Complete Me

Complete Me, Chapter Three

2009-04-28T01:19:22Z

“Let her go,” Batman growled, cape rippling in the light wind. The Joker giggled, knife still pressed to the woman’s throat.

“Well, Batty, have ya thought about it at all?” he laughed lightly, tapping his fingers along the edge of the knife. The woman sobbed in terror, and he clenched her wrists harder, drawing a whimper of pain.

“Let her go, and I’ll tell you,” Batman told him, keeping his eyes on Joker’s captive. She was nearly incoherent with fear, and the source of that line of blood trickling from under her reddish hair couldn’t be helping matters. He knew the Joker was just using her as bait for him, but what choice did he have except to answer the summons? If she didn’t serve her purpose, Joker would kill her without a second thought.

“Now, that’s not nice,” Joker pouted. “Here I’ve laid all my cards on the table for ya, and you won’t even tell me if you’ve considered my offer.”

His purple-gloved fingers clenched harder. If he pressed the blade even a hairsbreadth closer, he’d draw blood. Batman could think of only way to distract him.

“Why don’t you let her go, and we’ll talk it over?” he offered, drawing closer. The Joker watched him, eyes unfathomable. “We can talk it over when she’s safe.”

“Fine!” he snarled suddenly, shoving his bedraggled captive away from him. She cast him one last terrified look, eyes wide as a deer’s, before stumbling down the alley, tripping over the piles of rotting garbage in her haste to escape.

Joker crossed his arms over his chest. One foot tapped impatiently.

“Well?”

“I’ve thought about it,” Batman told him calmly.

“Aaaaaaaaaand?”

“I haven’t decided,” Bruce admitted, bracing himself for the storm that was sure to come.

“Well, when’ll you have an answer?” Joker demanded, voice rising. This was going too far! He was just looking for one little yes or no, Batboy was dragging this out for far too long. If Bats was just stringing him along, playing with him…

“Soon,” Batman told him, sensing his anger. “Soon. Just a little longer.” He was no closer to knowing his own mind, but if he could just placate the Joker a for a little while more…

“Dawn, Brucey,” the Joker told him, his voice oddly low. “I want an answer by dawn. I don’t like being led on.” And before Batman could reply, he had disappeared as quickly as he had come.

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Bruce was pacing. It was nearing sunrise, and the Joker still hadn’t shown up. He had thought things over, he had considered things from every angle, he had made his choice, and now he just wished that something would happen, that the Joker would show up so that he could act on it, before he could start reconsidering it again.

The decision had been easier than he’d dared to hope, once he’d had time to get his thoughts back in order. It was just so damn hard to concentrate on anything when the Joker was around, and for something like this, he wanted to be sure his decision was his own, not something brought on by the Clown Prince’s hideously distracting presence.

The Joker knew who he was. There was nothing that could be done about that. It meant though that there would be no escape for him; the Joker had tracked him down once, he could easily do it again. Running was never really an option.

Flight was out, so it was fight then, a confrontation of some kind. He could either agree to the Joker’s terms and see where that took him, or he could refuse. If he refused, he didn’t like the thought of what the Joker might do to him. He could probably fight – he had made sure he had several weapons around the bedroom for that very reason, if it came down to it – but…he didn’t want to. He was tired of the endless loop of pointless battles they fought, battles neither of them ever really won, to be repeated in a matter of days or weeks, when the only way to define a victory from a loss was by the size of the body count. This might be way out of that vicious circle. As an added benefit, it would be a way to keep tabs on the city's greatest criminal, perhaps exercise some control over his murderous crime sprees, if Bruce played his cards right.

But…

Bruce had no interest in one-night stands. Nothing he hoped to accomplish in this mad gamble could be achieved in one night. If the Joker wanted this to happen, he had to be serious about it. It was probably a sign of impending insanity that he was even considering an honest, all-cards-on-the-table relationship with a psychopathic clown, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He was done with running and agonizing and debating; he just wanted this resolved, one way or another.

He wished he could have talked to Alfred about it, but something had stopped him from telling his oldest friend.

That might have been a mistake, he reflected. In all likelihood, the Joker would catch him unawares, and he would be tranquilized, tortured, and, in all probability, dead, before he or anyone else could do anything about it, and Alfred would be the next target.

The fact remained though that the clown had had several golden opportunities to kill him, and had done nothing about it. The fact remained that while Bruce had been threatened, flirted with, exasperated, kissed, and had a knife held to his throat, he hadn’t actually been harmed. If Bruce had seriously thought that Alfred was in danger, he would have told him immediately, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe the Joker really was serious for once.

Now where was he?

“Now would be a good time to show up,” he grumbled.

“And here I am,” the voice that he had become very well acquainted with the past few days answered. He turned around. The Joker was lounging against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Bruce muttered, rolling his eyes. Always with the theatrics. Although, considering Batman’s taste for the dramatic, he supposed he probably shouldn’t pass judgment too harshly.

“Ya wanted me, and here I am,” the Joker repeated, watching him carefully. “Have you decided?” Normally he wouldn't bother letting his intended target choose, but since it was Batman, his greatest rival, he felt some small courtesy was due. Even if the Bat refused, he could always come up with a new scheme. He was nothing if not persistent.

Joker truly hoped Bruce would agree. The thought of having someone else, someone he could be direct with, someone he could consider an equal, someone who could know him, was intoxicating. And who could that be but Bats? Who could ever really know him but his other half?

Something dark ran through the core of both their beings, something that made them stronger, more dangerous, than anyone else. The Joker accepted it and used it, glorying in the chaos he sowed. Batman struggled against it, hiding behind a mask of justice but using it all the same. He tried to bury it, but it made him stand out. As soon as the Joker had come to Gotham, he’d known that the Batman would be a real challenge, someone he wanted to fight against and compete with, someone he wanted to know. Someone like him. Even the thought was exhilarating. Someone like him…

But he would not, would not, be used. If Bruce Wayne was up for this, then it would be all or nothing. He refused to be put to the side like a toy a child no longer had a use for. That was the mistake Batman had made at first: ignoring him. Now that he finally had the Bat's full attention, he wouldn’t give it up without a fight.

“I’ll have decided as soon as you answer one more question,” Bruce told him.

“Shoot.”

“How serious about this are you?” he asked quietly, praying that the Joker wouldn’t laugh, he couldn’t take it if he laughed right now…

He didn’t.

“Brucey, life is one big joke. It never pays to take anything too seriously. But if there’s one thing I’ll try to be serious about, it’s this.”

There was no trace of a lie in his face, but Bruce hesitated…

“Ya don’t believe me,” the Joker whispered. One of the few times he was being completely honest and Bats still didn’t believe him.

He’d have to show him.

Bruce’s eyes widened as the Joker kissed him. It was the first time he’d ever felt the other man’s lips pressed against his. They were oddly warm, and surprisingly soft, but insistent. Intoxicating. Before he’d fully finished enjoying the sensation, the Joker pulled away, studying his face, gauging his reaction. Bruce wasn’t ready for it to end yet, so he did the only thing he could. He kissed the Joker back.

Now it was the Joker’s turn to be surprised. Looked like Batsy had made his choice, he reflected, but then Bruce deepened the kiss and all other thoughts went out of his head.

The Joker really was intoxicating, a living drug. He smelled of sweat and leather and gunpowder, his scent filling Bruce’s nose as he deepened the kiss, gently exploring his rival’s mouth, knowing that he was doing the same. The taste of the greasepaint was bitter on Bruce's tongue, but somehow, he didn't mind. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to let go and truly kiss someone, and it felt wonderful, even if it was the Joker. He needed this, needed some kind of connection to break the isolating wall around him, no matter who it was with.

The Joker wrapped his arms around Bruce, letting his hands slide across his shoulders, and even through his shirt Bruce could feel the heat of them, and the roughness of his palms. He pressed the kiss deeper still, wrapping his own arms around the demented clown. His questing tongue traced the inside of the Joker’s cheek, and a shiver of fire shot through him. The scars extended to the inside of his mouth as well! Well, they had to, he supposed, but he had never really thought about it…then he noticed the tremor that had run through the Joker, and decided to try something…

He carefully pulled away just far enough to kiss along the Joker’s jawline, just below the paint. The Joker shivered again, and tilted his head, eyes completely shut. Bruce extended the kisses up to his ear before continuing down along the scar. A sharp intake of breath told him he’d guessed right. Smiling, he started gently kissing and biting the line of twisted flesh. He reached the Joker’s lips again, and would have continued up the other side, but the Joker had other ideas. Twisting his hands into the fabric of Bruce’s shirt, he pulled the uncaped Batman into another deep, passionate kiss. Bruce smiled. He might be able to get used to this.

Instinct had taken over where minds left off and they were kissing frantically now, desperate for any kind of physical contact, hands tangled deep in each other’s hair, crushed against each other. Bruce managed to unfasten his hands long enough to start pulling at the Joker’s coat, and the harlequin shrugged it off, followed by his waistcoat, still not breaking the contact between their lips. Bruce felt his long fingers begin to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. He helped the Joker unfasten it, steering him towards the bed.

The Joker’s shin brushed against the side of the king-sized bed, and he smirked. Well, if that was how Brucey wanted it, he had no objections…

Bruce pushed him onto the bed and pinned him there, straddling him, using his weight to press him down. The Joker arched briefly under him, then went limp. He was struck by the sudden thought that he had the Clown Prince who’d held Gotham in a reign of terror helpless, that he could do whatever he liked with the Joker; turn him over to the police, exact revenge for all the people he’d killed…

The Joker’s system threatened to shut down from the sheer overload of sensation, of the feeling of Bruce against him, the smell of him, the taste of him…it was all he could do to remember to keep breathing as Batsy pinned him to the bed. He arched against him, and they fit together perfectly, not a joint out of place or a gap between them. It was intoxicating, enough to send him over the edge…all his defenses were shattered in an instant; he was utterly powerless in his greatest enemy’s hands. Bruce could have picked him up by he scruff of the neck and tossed him off a building, and he wouldn’t have struggled.

Bruce could have done anything he liked… but at that moment, even with the weight of Gotham still on his shoulders, all he wanted was to snog the Joker silly and finish undressing him. With a growl, he began the kiss again.

The Joker deepened it and guided his hands to his chest. The tie came off easily enough, and was tossed into a corner, but the buttons of the shirt gave Bruce some trouble. Frustrated, he sat up and began to struggle with them in earnest. Finally, he succeeded in pulling open the Joker’s shirt, and got his first good look at the man.

He really was skinny, Bruce saw with surprise. The purple suits had always managed to give off an impression of power. But then, as he ran a hand over the smooth, pale stomach, he realized he was wrong. There was certainly muscle there, but rather than the well-defined body-builder muscles he had worked so hard to get, the Joker had the lithe, sinewy build of a gymnast. He wondered idly if he worked out at all. The thought of the Joker subscribing to a gym made him smile.

The Joker sat up and shifted so that he was sitting across Bruce’s lap, and now it was Bruce who found himself being pushed back into the bed, the Joker pressed against him, layering kisses down his face and neck, and along his stomach. For a moment he simply gave himself up to the sensation. It had been so, so long since he'd felt anything like this before...

“What, had enough already, Batsy?” the Joker whispered, and Bruce opened his eyes. No, he thought with a rare smile, not yet.

Complete Me, Chapter Two

2009-04-25T02:35:28Z

A/N: Chapter number two here. Please let me know what you think.

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Bruce groaned again and banged his forehead onto the desk. He was supposed to be getting a start on the ever-increasing pile of paperwork, but all he could think about was the events of last night. Knocking his head felt so good that he did it again, and again. At least now he had a physical headache to match the mental one.

Why the Joker? Out of all the people in Gotham, why did it have to be the Joker? And why did he have to know who Bruce really was? And come to that, why didn’t the freaking clown just kill him when he had the chance? Now that his rival knew Batman’s secret identity, Bruce couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder, checking to see if he was being followed. He knew it was pointless, knew that if the Joker really was after him he wouldn’t know it until too late, but he couldn’t help feeling paranoid. It was drilled into him.

And for that matter, what exactly had happened last night? Was he going crazy, or was the Joker flirting with him? Or was the clown just playing with him, like a cat toying with a terrified mouse? He groaned again and went back to banging his head. This was going to keep running through his head all day…

“I keep tellin' ya, you should never start with the head, darlin',” a purring voice behind him informed the aggravated businessman. Bruce turned around, at once apprehensive and irritated, frustration written all over his face. The Joker grinned at him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked the Joker. No point in mincing words; his head was pounding and he was fed up with the mind games. It was a mark of how disjointed his mind was at the moment that the Joker had come in without Bruce hearing him, which was itself a major problem. Good thing the clown didn’t seem too keen on killing him immediately. Still, he reminded himself, that could change at any second.

Have to keep control, Bruce. Focus.

“Why so serious, Brucey?” the Clown Prince asked him, carefully drawing a switchblade from his vest pocket. “You should try having some…” he licked his red-smeared lips, “…fun.”

“What are you doing here?” Bruce repeated. He was sick of games; he just wanted a straight answer for once, was that really too much to ask?

“I thought you could use some company,” the Joker informed him lightly, slipping off the file cabinet he had been perched on. “Ya must get lonely, stuck in this rattrap all day, so I thought I would drop by and, ah, say hello.”

“What the hell do you want?” Bruce asked flatly. The Joker pouted, an expression of mock hurt stealing over his face.

“Why Brucey, I thought we were doing so well,” he sulked. “We were making some real… ah… progress last night.”

Bruce stiffened. That was it then. The Joker was definitely flirting with him. Which he probably could have dealt with, if he hadn’t been torn between the desire to either throw the demented clown out a window, his one rule be damned, or, insanely, flirt back and see what happened.

“Arggggghhhhhhhhhh,” he growled, going back to banging his head on the desk. The Joker looked amused.

“I can’t imagine how that helps, but as long as it makes ya feel better…” he smirked. Bruce threw him an annoyed glare.

“So where do we go from here?” he asked, pointedly ignoring the Joker and checking his desk drawers. Finding a weapon of some sort would be nice, but at the moment he would settle for Aspirin.

“Weeeellllllllllll, that’s up to you now, isn’t it?” the Joker drawled from behind him. Giving up the search for drugs and weapons, Bruce slammed the drawer shut and turned to face him.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked quietly, his hands unconsciously balling into fists. The Joker smirked again, his Chesire grin twisting up the sides of his face. He knew he could be the most aggravating person on the planet, but even so, it was always nice to have it confirmed. Good to know he was getting under Batsy’s skin.

“Simple, really,” he purred, resuming playing with his knife. “We both know by now how I feel. You’re the, ah…variable, as the case may be. I’ve made my intentions clear. Now it’s your turn. Quid pro quo, no?” He smiled.

Bruce was very tempted just to walk out of the office entirely. The Joker had just come straight out and told him that he was interested, and was now waiting for Bruce to tell him whether he felt the same way. How the hell could he answer when he didn’t know that himself? It was the Joker. The most wanted man in Gotham! A psychotic villain who had killed dozens, if not hundreds of people! Even thinking about discussing feelings with him was beyond insane.

At the same time, his words had a ring of truth to them. There was some kind of connection between them, a connection that went beyond simply villain and hero. As much as he hated to admit it, Bruce was drawn to him.

The Joker watched him. Indecision was written all over his face. He could just imagine the internal dialogue, Batsy arguing with himself, trying both to justify it and to talk himself out of it. It would have been extraordinarily amusing, if he hadn’t been so impatient to hear the Batman’s answer. Why couldn’t he make up his mind, dammit, they both knew they they were drawn to each other; what was so hard about that?

A long, tense moment later, Bruce exhaled and turned back to the clown. “I don’t know,” he said simply.

“Are ya sure?” the Joker purred, drawing closer. Before Bruce knew what was happening, the Joker was embracing him from behind, with his head nuzzled deep into the hollow of Bruce’s neck. And damn…it felt great.

Jesus, he was tense, the Joker noticed. No wonder Batman was always so uptight. He'd have to work on fixing that.

“Are you sure you don’t know?” the Joker repeated, layering kisses up his neck and jawline. It took all of Bruce’s concentration to keep from moaning. It felt so good…

“Well?” he purred again, his breath hot on the distracted millionaire’s ear.

Bruce’s blood was pounding in his ears, and a burning wave of heat coursed through his body. He was extraordinarily aware of the Joker’s arms draped across his chest, the man’s breath on his ear, his own ragged breathing and pounding heart.

“Let me think about it,” he mumbled. All he could think to do was buy some time away from the Joker’s intoxicating presence, some time to consider things with a clear head…

“Oh, don’t be like that,” the Joker murmured, gently licking his ear and snuggling closer. “We both know ya want it.” Stupid, gorgeous, tempting Batsy, stop playing hard to get. The time for games is over. How do you know I’ll want to keep playing, won’t leave for a new game?

“Please…” He was almost begging now. “Let me think about it.”

The Joker growled low in his throat and seemed about to say something when someone knocked at the door. He instantly tensed, and growled into Bruce’s ear, “Make sure ya do think about it this time.”

An instant later, he had vanished.

The door opened, and Lucius Fox stepped in.

“Mr. Wayne, I thought this might interest you…”

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of his employer, standing as though dazed in the middle of the office, the collar of his shirt lopsided and hair slightly mussed.

“Mr. Wayne?”

Seeming to snap out of it, Bruce groaned and buried his head in his hands.

“I’m going to take the day off,” he said finally, voice slightly muffled. “I can’t think straight.”

“All right,” Fox told him, noting how unsettled he seemed. “This’ll wait. You look like you need one.” A moment later, he had stepped out, leaving Bruce alone with his very confused thoughts.

elizabeth_elf @ 2009-04-22T23:58:00

2009-04-23T05:11:04Z

A/N: Figured it was about time to put my LJ account to some use, so I'm posting my story Complete Me. I still have no idea what exactly I'm doing...

Anyway, this is the pseudo-sequel to my Batman oneshot, Rooftop Philosophy, which can be found at ff.net. My username there is Elizabeth Tudor. It's not necessary to have read that one first, but it is recommended. Just so's to warn you, THIS IS SLASH. Don't like, don't read, simple as that. This story will be mostly about the relationship between Batman and the Joker, so while there will be some fluff and some action, it isn't strictly either one of those. This is also my very first slash fic, and I'm still experimenting, so please, be gentle.

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The strangest night of Bruce Wayne's life began when he brushed his teeth.

Well, it's wasn't actually night, per se. It was close to five a.m. Not that he particularly cared about the technicalities at that point. It’d been a long day and an even longer night, and he was more than ready for some sleep. He finished up in the bathroom and shuffled back into the bedroom, with no other thoughts than collapsing into bed and sleeping for a good eight hours straight. As soon as his head hit the pillows though, he felt uncomfortable, the blankets too tight, too heavy, the cloth awkward against his skin. As he twisted and turned, trying to find a position that worked, the Joker’s voice came floating into his head, as it had so often over the past weeks.

Think of what we could do together. There’s no fight we wouldn’t win!

Ever since he had spoken them, that night on the rooftop, the words had swirled around his head. At times, the idea seemed crazy, preposterous. Other times, like now, it seemed perfectly plausible, perfectly natural. It seemed like it could work. Like it was meant to work.

More than that though... in a way... he wanted it to work. There was no doubt that he and the Joker were bound together somehow, and they would fight until they destroyed each other - unless they found another way. Unless they learned to worked together. But that couldn't happen, they were on opposite sides of the board...

You. Complete. Me.

Demented words from a deranged clown, accompanied by a mocking laughter track that kept playing through his head, no matter what he did...

Bruce groaned and rolled over, crushing a pillow over his head. He was exhausted, but he wasn’t going to get much rest tonight.

“Get out of my head, Joker,” he muttered.

“What, overstayed my welcome already?” a voice a few feet away asked. Bruce jumped. Even in the dark, he knew that voice.

The light flicked on. The Joker was seated not three feet from the edge of the bed, legs crossed, grinning under the scars, a knife in his hands.

Bruce slowly sat up, suddenly very aware of a number of highly unpleasant facts. First off, the Joker was here, in his bedroom, which meant that he knew who Batman really was, which was a disaster in itself. Second, the Joker had a knife, and looked more than ready to use it. Third, Alfred’s room was right down the hall. As soon as he’d finished with Bruce, the make-up smeared clown would probably check the penthouse for anyone else. And last…Bruce was uncomfortably aware that he was on his back, in bed, completely unarmed, wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of black silk boxers. He groaned mentally. Of all the ways to die!

His martial arts training wouldn't be much use here. Whether by accident or design, the Joker had caught him in a position where he had absolutely no leverage. He might be able to get to the Joker, but he was half sitting, half lying down, it would take precious milliseconds to get upright, and the Joker was wicked fast with that knife...

Joker noticed his renewed concentration, and hazarded a guess at what Batsy was considering so intently. His eyes narrowed.

“Now now,” he admonished, wagging the dagger far too close to the end of Bruce's nose for comfort, “I can’t have ya trying anything, so be a good bat and lay back down, and maybe I won’t need to, uh, hurt anyone.”

Bruce did as he said, sinking slowly back into the pillows. What choice did he have?

“Now then,” the Joker added, once he was satisfied his orders were being carried out, “when you were not out chasing after the local muck-raking lowlifes, did you, by chance, spare any thought for my, ah, pppppproposition?”

He drew the word out, making it sound as twisted and deformed as the scars across his cheeks, licking his lips at the end, as though tasting it. Even now, Bruce was equally fascinated and repulsed by him. There were bigger issues though.

“How did you find me?” he asked, his voice unconsciously taking on the roughness he always used when he was Batman.

“It wasn’t that, ah, difficult,” the Joker grinned. “Now that the games are over and I needed to find you, you left me a pretty wide trail. Batman would have to be rich to have all the fun gadgets he keeps, and, as it turns out, you are the only billionaire in Gotham who is under forty, over six feet tall, and has brown eyes. Piece of cake. Ya might want to ah, cover your tracks a bit, Batsy.”

Bruce groaned mentally again. Nice to know where I went wrong before I die, he thought sarcastically. He’d have to start taking steps to remain anonymous. If he survived tonight…

“You’re, uh, dodging my question though,” the Joker declared, dragging his thoughts back to earth. “Did you or did you not think about what I told ya that night?”

He had thought about it plenty. No need to tell Joker that though.

“Hadn’t thought about it much,” he said, as lightly as he could. The Joker’s grin twisted into a scowl.

“You’re, uh, lying to me Batsy,” he informed the billionaire. “I thought we were friends. If that’s how you’re going to play,” he added, rising lightly to his feet, “I think we’re going to have to take this game…outside,” he finished, placing the purple-gloved fingertips of one hand against Bruce’s chest.

Though normally the epitome of self-control, Bruce started. The Joker’s hands were only a little warmer than he’d expected, but in spite of the relatively normal temperature, the points of contact on his chest burned like fire. He felt his face grow hot. Damn subconscious reactions. Of course it was going to be uncomfortable having your greatest enemy examine you like some rare antique he was thinking of stealing.

The Joker grinned. He liked seeing Bruce so uncomfortable. Every time Batman touched him – during the interrogation, during a fight, any time – the sudden thrill of sensation made it difficult for him to even remember to keep breathing. He was more than happy to return the favor, with added interest.

He also had to admit that it was nice seeing his archrival out of the Batsuit. Yes, very nice, he mused, his dark eyes raking the form he’d only ever glimpsed under all the black Kevlar and spandex.

His eyes narrowed. Was Batsy blushing? Yes, definitely blushing. He smirked. If that was how he reacted to a little thing like that, well then…

Bruce gasped as the Joker’s hand flattened and slid across his chest. His entire body was burning now, his nerve endings tingling like live wires. Why was he acting like this? What happened to keeping a cool head? The only thing he could compare this on-fire feeling to was…but that was ridiculous…not the Joker. Surely not?

His body answered for him, sending his pulse skyrocketing until his entire body pounded like a drum to his heartbeat. He groaned, aloud this time. Why him?

The Joker’s grin widened. This was getting exciting. He’d been interested in Batman since he met the guy, but it had never even occurred to him that the caped crusader might be just as interested. Smirking, he increased the pressure. The result was instantaneous. Bruce gasped, and his entire body jerked as though electrocuted.

Ah. Almost certainly interested then.

He was tempted to see just how far he could take this little shindig, but something told him that if he tried anything too drastic, poor little Brucey would die of shock. Better to keep it simple for now. Might as well leave him with something to think about though…

He leaned over the bed, putting his face no more than an inch away from Bruce’s. The unmasked superhero pressed himself back as far as he could, but he couldn’t get away from the twisted, grinning scars.

For a moment the Joker stayed there, drinking in the sight of him. How often had he seen those eyes under the mask? They were stunning eyes, but much to better to see the rest of his lovely face too. He could have stayed there for hours, simply staring at Bruce, but there were other things that needed to be done.

He brought the knife up. Bruce’s eyes widened slightly, despite his effort to remain in control. Dammit, it was going to end then. Everything he’d worked for, undone by one stupid clown! Dammit dammit dammit...

He drew in his breath as the Joker placed the cold edge, almost lovingly, against his throat. For chrissakes, if he was going to kill him, then kill him already! His heart was pounding, fully expecting each breath to be his last, but he didn’t look away from the crazed madman. If he was going to die tonight, he was determined that he would die well. The Joker leaned in even closer, probably to savor all the fun little emotions, Bruce thought bitterly, remembering the GPD surveillance tapes. He expected at any moment to feel the sharp steel rip into his skin, slicing cleanly through his jugular and spilling his lifeblood out across the bedspread. What he did not expect was to feel the Joker’s scarred lips press against his forehead.

The Joker drew back and grinned broadly. Bruce starred at him in shock. Before the young billionaire could react, the clown blew him a kiss and vanished into the shadows, his plum-colored coat swirling behind him. Seconds later, the only evidence that he had been there at all was Bruce’s still-pounding heart and one of his trademark playing cards, laid almost lovingly on the pillow. Bruce picked it up cautiously.

See you soon, Bats

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Feedback is welcomed.