Chapter Text
Jonathan Crane had denied the idea of him liking someone before, and would continue to do so for as long as he lived. Especially when it came to someone such as Jervis Tetch.
Jervis Tetch. The Mad Hatter. Barely an ally and even less of a friend. Jonathan hardly considered him such. He hardly considered anyone such. He had allies, sure, associates even— for one could only get so far in his line of work without any, but he never had any friends.
No, regardless of how many times Jervis referred to him as such, how many times he had been personally invited to a tea party, how many times Jervis had smiled his way, he did not consider him a friend.
The king of fear had no friends. None at all.
He repeated the phrase as if it were a mantra as he entered Jervis’ hideout upon the invitation of yet another tea party.
He ignored the fact that it wasn’t his first time.
“March Hare!” Jervis exclaimed as Jonathan entered the room. He sat on one end of a ridiculously large table, piled with a ridiculous amount of tea cups and kettles. Ridiculous. “You can’t think how glad I am to see you again, you dear old thing!”
“Yes,” Jonathan said cordially— a lie, of course. “As am I.”
Another lie; Jervis was just so easy to fool, after all.
After he had settled into his seat, Jervis came quickly to his side with a special kettle in his hands. He poured generously into Jonathan’s cup, whistling a tune as he did so.
“I’ll have coffee,” Jonathan said bluntly. He rather hated tea.
“And I’ll have tea!” Jervis said in a sing-song voice. “And that’s the reason we couldn’t agree.”
Once Jervis had finished pouring, Jonathan drank with full intention to spit it out shortly after. Instead he nearly choked for how good it was. It wasn’t coffee but sweet tea— his favorite. How had Jervis known?
“Do you like it?” Jervis asked.
Jonathan wanted to spit it out even more now. He swallowed. “It’s fine.”
Jervis cheered, and happily skipped back to his seat. Jonathan indulged in the sight, but not because he enjoyed it.
“My dear Hare, I am just so glad you decided to join me today,” Jervis said with a grin. Jonathan returned a small smile, but only as a way to fool him. He never smiled for anything. “We have much to discuss!”
“Indeed, we do,” Jonathan said coolly, taking another sip of his drink— only as a farce. He didn’t like it all that much, really. “I heard that the Gotham Bank’s security’s quite lax this time of year. What say we test to see if that’s true?”
The conversation took off from there, plans being made, ideas being thrown. Not that many of Jervis’ ideas were good, though. The fact that they just happened to align with Jonathan’s own was just a coincidence.
Jonathan knew he only kept Jervis around as a means to an end. It just so happened that he didn’t know when that end was, but he knew that it would come. Surely, it would.
In the meantime, he used the man as a source of allyship, even at times entertainment. Jonathan could rarely ever resist the compulsion of a mad mind, to see from the inside exactly how it could break. If that meant playing the part of a friend, of the March Hare, then so be it. Jervis was little more to him than an asset, after all. There was no other reason.
The fact that he attended his tea parties meant nothing. It was just an act.
The fact that he drank and enjoyed his sweet tea meant nothing. It was only a lie.
The fact that he constantly worked with him meant nothing. It was simply business.
The fact that he stared at Jervis’ smile whenever it crossed his face meant nothing. It was mere fascination.
After all, his visage was plagued with such— it was so…
… As he stared, he wondered if Jervis’ pupils always dilated that big whenever their eyes met.
Then, he wondered if his own did too.
He shook his head, finished his cup, and asked for seconds.
It meant nothing.
No matter how much that small voice in the back of his head said otherwise.