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Their fight had nearly come to an end, with the both of them panting for air and hyperaware of the injuries they sustained throughout the night. Batman holds Joker against a wall, squeezing a hand around his neck with the strength of two men. As he watches Joker cough and gasp, Batman wonders how his grip has always been just gentle enough to keep Joker teetering on the edge of life and death. One more second, another good squeeze, and he could end it all. But he never will. And he knows it.
They both do.
The Joker chokes down a cackle, and kicks his legs back into the wall behind him. Batman loosens his grip completely, and watches Joker fall to the ground in a wheezing heap of laughter. "B-batsy..." He manages to choke out, "Playtime over already?" He bats his eyes, one eye barely moving due to its swollen, bruised lid.
"I'm not playing with you," Batman lies, "This isn't a game."
Joker dusts himself off, hobbling up from the ground. "I'm not gonna bother with trying to convince you, darling!" He spins around and turns toward Batman. "I know," he pauses, "that you know, that what we have between us, is special!" He punctuates his sentence with halfhearted jazzhands. "But I also know you're not one for, uh, verbal encouragement." He pats Batman on the shoulder.
Batman maintains usual cold stare and shoves Joker's hand away. The Joker, however, clearly has some energy left as he snatches Batman's hand in his, and brings it to his heart. "Ohh batsy... my Bat-Man! Clock's ticking, tick tock, this young clown isn't always going to be so young anymore!"
With his mention of a clock, Batman almost flinches. Too many times he's had to rescue civilians with mere minutes- no- seconds, to spare. Joker's right though. They've been at it for a long time now. Something should change.
No.
It's not that something should change, it's that he wants something to change. Batman can't let that happen, not with the things Joker had done. He pushes those thoughts away the best he can.
With his hand still on Joker's heart, he expects to feel something. He doesn't, physically, at least-- the gloves are too thick. If the Joker's knuckles could whiten any further than they are now, they definitely would. His clench on Batman's hand is as if he were holding Batman's very own heart. The Joker may be doing just that, in a way. Batman knows that even with his gloves on, he it's there. He reminds himself of the fact that Joker does in fact have a heart, and it does beat. An erratic, yet strong beat that powers his lithe, yet powerful body.
Joker bites his lip, and awaits the next shove, kick, or punch that will burst forth from Batman and grace his skin. It doesn't come, however, as Joker stares into Batman's eyes, he watches as Batman stares back. Time seems to stop. Doesn't it always, when they're this close? Batman can see the pores on his face, the blood on his lips, the love in his eyes. Batman merely stares at Joker, but he knows that Joker stares deep into him.
He brings his head ever so slightly closer to the Joker's, and watches Joker's reaction: his eyes briefly dilate. "Ha." Batman lets out a small chuckle as he realizes he's startled Joker for the first time all night. Not even the peak of their chase gave Joker any setbacks, as per usual, yet this smallest, seemingly insignificant movement has done much more than a punch ever will.
Forcing out a laugh that breaks the silence, Joker says, "I've been trying to get one of your infamous Bat-Laughs all week..." His eyes don't leave Batman’s. "What's so funny now?"
"You. This. Us." No hesitation, not even a blink.
Joker's lips curl into a snarl as he jerks toward Batman, "And why is that, hon- ey- bun?"
He can even smell that faint, chemical stench that never quite went away. It's mingled into a cologne that just overpowers the sweat of their night's endeavors. Batman knows he needs to stop thinking about this, about him, and about how he might smell, feel, or taste.
"Will we do this forever, Joker?" Batman continues, "Or are you going to be the death of me?" He won't let it be the other way around.
Joker's anger morphs into suspicion as he raises his brows slightly. "Awe Batsy. Getting a little introspective there? Come on. I thought the game was gonna change tonight." He flashes a smile, something almost genuine, however with a hint of provocation beneath it. "Guess I was wrong!" He almost turns away, but Batman grabs his shoulder, locking him into place and bringing them even closer.
Batman's eyes narrow. "Changing the game..." It always seems as though Joker has a way of peering into his soul, deep and black, and prying his most secretive desires from his chest. They stick and cling to the pit of his heart, yet under Joker's hands they mold into shape- like clay- and they become something he can bring forth and show to the world. It's disgusting, but almost refreshing.
"You can feel it too, can't you?" Joker's eyes almost sparkle with this statement and its surface-level innocence. Batman scans the Joker's body: from his bony hand to lean shoulder, and from his lean shoulder to his wounded face. He watches his warm breaths condense in the cool air. The clouds of their breaths are already mingling, and they haven't even started yet.
Started what?
All he needs is a little push.
A push is what he gets.
The Joker, as if on cue, whips his arm upward, pulling a knife from god knows where. Maybe Batman would have known where if he paid closer attention to the Joker's hands. Either way, this is that sick display of love he needed this night. He's ready to change the game.
Batman pulls the Joker close as he watches Joker's gloved hand guide the knife's fall through the air, ready to plunge into the dark knight's side. Batman watches the clown's eyes dilate for the second time tonight before closing his own eyes and tightening his hold on Joker's arms and back. With Joker locked into a mockery of a hug, their heads are quickly drawn together, and their lips meet. Batman hears the clang of the knife hitting the ground. The kiss is stiff at first, with his lips pressing against Joker's-- shocked, yet pursed. However, they melt into it soon enough.
After enough time has passed, with Joker's clothes significantly more dishevelled than the beginning of their encounter, they let their lips part. Panting, Batman wipes the side of his mouth with his hand and eyes the lipstick smudged onto his glove. The lipstick remaining on the clown's face is quirked up into a smile, larger than before. He lets out a giggle and runs a hand through his hair. "Wow Batsy. Who'd a thunk it-- you're a better kisser than I thought!"
"Surprised?"
"Not really." He deadpans, and begins straightening out his clothing. "Surprises are my job anyways."
Batman folds his arms. That much is true.
Joker continues with a wink, "While I'd love to stay the night in this oh-so-romantic alleyway, I'd better scurry off. Lest I get caught by a bat, or something scarier." He stops dusting off his pants, and locks Batman in the eyes while beginning to back up. "Truly though, Bats, whatever overtook you tonight-- I hope you reveal that side of yourself more often."
Batman hesitates before speaking, "What if I don't?"
Joker squints, mouth flat, "'Don't', as in don't want to? Or 'don't' because you're too afraid to?" He scoffs, "You know exactly what you want." Moving further into the darkness now, he's just two pinpricks of green accompanied by a red, red, smiling mouth-- the chershire cat. "Either way Batsy, with or without the ring, you know I'm yours."
Batman almost works up the courage to respond. By the time he opens his mouth however, that oh-so-familiar smile is gone. He picks the abandoned knife up from the ground, and sees the red on his hands-- lipstick, tonight, instead of blood. He swears he can hear a bout of laughter in the distance before muttering to himself: "And I'm yours."