Chapter Text
Joker let out an instinctual half-laugh as a gauntleted hand smashed into his shoulder, his flag pistol falling meekly to the side, the “Bang!” flag still sticking from the barrel. He went to throw a swing at his masked attacker, only for his elbow to be grabbed in return, twisted and held against his back as a pained too-wide grin spread across the clown’s face.
No, none of this was like their usual dance.
Bats seemed antsy today - barely giving him any material to work with during their routine exchange of playful threats, and going for such a direct takedown with so little foreplay beforehand, he’d barely gotten to deliver this evening’s disaster-related pun before the crazy caped crusader came to crack him!
No, something had Batboy worked up, and while that usually made him even more fun to play with, this time it was seriously getting in the way of their game.
Joker struggled at the vigilante’s grasp for just a few moments before practically humming in delight at the closeness they now had.
“Y’know, something seems different today, Batbrain! Some hawk find his way into your crummy cave? Wake up on the wrong side of the stalactite?”
.
.
.
No response.
“Oh, that’s no fun! Come on, partners don’t keep things from eacho-” Joker’s half-flirt was interrupted by a tighter twist of his arms, sparks of pain shooting up from the joints being bent past their limit. That was even weirder, and he hadn’t even slapped the handcuffs on yet, almost like he wanted an excuse to keep eachother there…
A breakup, maybe? The vigilante didn’t seem like the type to get touchy-feely after something like that, in fact the games they played after the occasional fling with Catwoman were always extra tense! In a fun way, of course. But now it was so bland, flavorless punches and kicks without the banter and tact that made it enjoyable. What problem could possibly make their games less fun instead of more?
Well, if he wanted to find out, he’d just do what he did best! Poke around in that bat’s beautiful brain with honeyed words that hid far more authenticity than anyone in Gotham could guess.
“What’s got you so riled, Bats? Is it because I’m not wearing my usual suit?”
The grip tightened for just a moment, before Batman realized and composed himself as much as he could.
“Heehee, I didn’t know my clothing bothered you so much! If that’s really the root of the problem, you could always just take ‘em off!”
This time the clench those gloved hands gave was in character, all work and no play, so stoic, so Batman. Nobody else would’ve realized Jokers costume change, to everyone else he was still wearing his iconic orange button-up with lime vest and violet coat to match, a royal blue bowtie and reddish-pink flower adorning the ensemble, somehow complimenting it as much as it clashed against the other too-saturated hues. But it was only Batman who got close enough to see the absence of a fairly new detail, one the Clown Prince of Crime had gone through great theatrics to show off ever since it appeared.
An embroidered black bat, outlined with yellow on the vest’s breast pocket, right over his heart. It appeared under the excuse of sewing up the tear a Batarang had made, one that made the Dark Knight flinch for a moment, one that hit far too close to vitals for his comfort, one that sat in a lump in his stomach when he realized how relieved he felt at the damage being barely permanent.
That same lump visited again now, squirming uncomfortably at the sight of the new, plain breast pocket.
“I really did want to look my Sunday best for you, but it’s laundry day!” He smirked, feeling the grip on his arms loosen more despite his lack of struggling. It seemed he hit the nail on the head, despite his attacker still refusing to speak. But it was an exciting challenge to decipher what the Caped Crusader was thinking under all that brooding, fun to try and rip off that mask he made for himself, to expose him to the world - no, not the world, just Joker. A giggle formed in his throat at the irony, a nameless clown understanding the hero more than the city he gave so much to save.
The jester was pulled from his thoughts when the grip on his arms disappeared entirely, the caped hero stepping back in what might be seen as offense, or perhaps mild surprise at some sudden unspoken realization. Joker whipped around as fast as he could to read Bat’s expression - hurt, perhaps? But not the blunt kind of hurt, no, the kind of hurt that wriggled in you and choked you from the inside before you could tell it was there. Something that took so very long, but made itself apparent so suddenly, as if it knew it would win as soon as it dug into your skin.
Oh, the plot thickened. It was him who ruined Batsy’s day, the Joker had done something to stir that expression to life.
But it was always so obvious when he did something wrong! The store he robbed to get the bats attention in the first place was nothing special - but if it was the unoriginality of the scheme, that would’ve earned a quip about him losing his touch. Let’s see, what were all the illegal things he did today? Escaped from Arkham, stole only the shiniest pieces from a jewelry store, made Harley pose as the cashier to catch Bats by surprise, left a heart-shaped card saying to meet him on the roof when Harley was inevitably beaten…
It had to be the card, that was the only outlier. But why would it get to him so much…?
“Did you not like my invite?” Joker mused, taking slow but deliberate steps to lessen the space Bats put between them. “You shouldn’t get all grumpy just because I couldn’t find any glitter to put on it!”
“Enough, Joker.”
The other man finally responded, his gruff voice sending the clown’s smile up to his eyes.
“Oh, you’re just the same card as always, Batsy! If you wanted this to end so badly, you’d have cuffed me and thrown me to the curb by now!” He stepped closer, giving a comically exaggerated pout before going back to his best smile, gums peaking out with the teeth. “No, you want to talk! What’s wrong sweetums, how can Jokey help?”
The vigilante’s posture got even tighter, hands tensing to fists and brow settling low in disapproval. His muscles must be a wreck from posing angrily so often. Joker took the small gap in conversation to imagine all those gorgeous muscles getting a massage for once…
“It would help if you took this seriously, Joker.” The caped hero replied.
“Oh, you know that’s my blind spot Batsy, but just for you!” He smoothed out his hair a bit, trying and failing to stop smiling, setting for a focused smirk instead. “Looking for another semi-annual team up? Because you’ll need to throw in a more than generous bribe, I’ve really been working up to something here!”
“That’s not what that is. But it is about… Us.”
Now that made Joker stop smiling. The line itself would’ve made him giggle in any other circumstance - yelled at Ace Chemicals, an abandoned amusement park, any of Joker’s usual haunts - but Batman’s voice seemed to cut out at the end, as if it took everything in him to push out that last word, and could still only force a whisper. It made the clown’s stomach twist with an uncomfortable authenticity, too close to genuine worry for his comfort. It was his turn to widen the distance between them now, though he only took one small step back, intent on searching his rival’s eyes for anything to get him back in character, finding little to work with under the obscuring cowl.
“I’ve been thinking about you lately,” Batman continued, seemingly fighting himself with every word. “About what makes you do this - what makes us do this. Why we can never close the distance.”
Silence. Neither spoke, taking their time to chew through the weight that had settled in the air, the words leaving a taste that would take an eternity to dull and settle into yet another rope that kept the two tethered to each other. This was not what the Clown Prince of Crime wanted to hear, not when he had prepared for a night sticking so closely to their usual script, but he also recognized that if he didn’t let the caped crusader speak now, whatever news he had to share would be lost for good.
And so he just stood there, the smiling fiend piecing together little more than a “Go on,” in a tone embarrassingly similar to a child being scolded. He could do little more than pray that the Bat’s next line would give him some sort of fuel to kick up more banter, and try not to run when he was inevitably disappointed.
“But I want to fix that tonight. For good. Even if it ruins the game.”
“Well?” Joker probed, impatience overpowering his anxiety for a moment. “Spit it out, Batbreath! Are we breaking up or not?”
Batman flinched, hand hovering over his grappling hook momentarily like he was going to fly the coop altogether, before settling for the opposite and taking weighted steps to the man opposite him.
“Oh come on, just say it if it’s so important!” The clown continued, face heating slightly at the absolute gall this haughty hero had to betray the sanctity of dramatic timing. “If you’re trying to retire, boohoo, because I’m not leaving anytime soon, and it’s just not crime without my favorite hunk there to stop me!”
No response, just more walking. Slow, but oddly determined - Joker might have felt just the slightest bit intimidated if he wasn’t in the beginning stages of flying off into a rant.
“Are you leaving to go drool over Supermoron and his League of Losers? Cause you’re the mad one if you think I won’t follow! Meslopolis could use a good laugh!”
More nothing, and now it’d take nothing less than a full choke to stop the Joker’s rambling, which was maybe what he wanted. Something in-character, something predictable, something that wouldn’t risk this new game the bat wanted to try being less enjoyable than the one they’d practiced for so long. Laughter formed at his chest at the thought of such a chaotic criminal fearing the unknown, giggles adding an awful flavor to his rage, a toxic sound not meant for intimate chats on moonlit rooftops.
“What, are you scared I can’t take it? Darling, I’ll take everything you throw at me and swing it back twice as hard - has ‘ol Jim decided to send me to a new prison? Finally decided to throw me on the electric chair whether you like it or not? Are you getting hitched to-”
The clown’s monologue was finally cut off, Batman’s gauntleted hands grabbing at his shoulders and pulling his cool lips onto the Joker’s scarlet ones.