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Bruce has bright red lipstick smeared on the left side of his cowl.
How did that end up there? Well, Joker, of course. His greatest enemy always used a lipstick that stained remarkably well, for whatever reason. He wonders how often Joker has to re-apply it.
In times like this, he wished Joker would wear waterproof makeup.
“Sir, might I ask why there's a bright red kiss mark on your cowl?” Alfred's voice interrupts his super important thinking time, startling him out of his thoughts. Right, Bruce had just come back from fighting Joker, and was now sitting at the Batcomputer, staring blankly at the stats-filled screen.
“I… slipped and, uh, fell on one of J-bir- I mean, Joker's banana peels, and… Fell into… his face?” Bruce tries, although his narrowed eyes and awkward grimace gave him away. Damn! Alfred's always been way too good at reading him. And it's definitely not because he's obvious.
Alfred just sighs. “Could it be there's something you're not telling me? About your feelings?”
“Batman doesn't do feelings, Alfred, I thought we already established this. All I feel is rage, and for Joker, only the deepest, burning hatred. There is no way, in a million years, that I would ever feel anything other than that for him.” Bruce emphasizes, gesturing with his hands, an almost punching, crushing motion. Like he wanted to… pound Joker into the floor or something. Wait, that came out wrong.
He's suddenly extremely grateful for his cowl, concealing just how red he is in the face.
“He's a villain, and Batman's a hero. We're each other's greatest enemy, and that… that's never going to change.” He hates how damn melancholic he sounds. Accepting, even. But he'd let it happen, hadn't he? He let Joker get close enough to plant a big smooch on the side of his cowl, then stood frozen as Joker scampered off into the night and disappeared, giggling.
Stupid Joker. Stupid feelings… He hates having feelings. He's supposed to be a brooding, rage-filled, unstoppable force of justice. He doesn't like feeling all soft and mushy inside, and yeah, he does have his family now. Alfred, and Dick, and even Barbara too. Bruce felt… feelings for them too, but they didn't feel like this. Does that even make sense? He's proud of Dick, he admires Alfred, and Barbara is his completely platonic work friend with no strings attached.
He isn't scared to admit that he cares for them. Not anymore.
So then why is he so afraid to admit that Joker… means something to him? Like this, beyond hate. Maybe it's because Joker is a villain. A criminal, a madman with a weird thing for bombs and chaos. But no, that just seemed shallow. Almost like a thinly veiled excuse for what's really twisting in his gut.
Maybe it's because… because this love is so much different. It's all encompassing. Joker makes his heart race and his blood boil in a way that isn't driven by anger. He thinks about Joker when he lies awake at night, after all, Joker is the reason he's up so early, pumping iron until his arms feel like they're going to fall off.
All of it is new to him. He's always hated Joker, even if he never wanted to admit it, but after what happened with saving the city and everything a while ago, things changed. And now Bruce doesn't want to punch Joker. He wants to kiss his greatest enemy.
That's different. And it scares him.
“Sir? Sir. Master Bruce.” Alfred’s voice suddenly pulls him out of his impromptu reverie, and he looks back, hoping his face is as blank as he thinks it is. “I really hope this isn't what I think it is, but…”
“Whatever you're thinking, it's completely wrong. I already told you, nothing is going on. Absolutely nothing.”
His butler—father figure? Whatever—just sighs. “As I was saying, if it is what I think it is, I hope that you won't let what happened before… Happen again.” Alfred gives him a pointed, if hopeful look, before he turns and heads back upstairs. Bruce just spins around in his Batchair, muttering to himself.
Don't let what happened before happen again. What even happened before? He was… scared, scared of caring, and he pushed everyone around him away because of it. He changed though, didn't he? He won't repeat the same mistakes.
But, if he was being honest with himself, the thought of living in a world without Joker didn't even sound like living at all.
—
Bruce is in hot pursuit of the Joker. Again. For the third time this week, and it's only Tuesday.
Joker's been more active than usual, and the crimes have been… strange. Like tripping the alarm at a flower shop, only to leave behind an explosive box of chocolates and a note in some cryptic code that he's still trying to decipher. And then the day before that, Joker had led him all throughout the city in a grand chase, forcing him to endure going through the swan boat ride at the amusement park, and then to add insult to injury, led him to the top of Gotham's tallest building to see the sunrise.
Weird. What did all of that crap have to do with Joker's completely unexpected, unwarranted and surprise kiss on his cheek?
Who knows.
Bruce easily jumps across rooftops, slowly but surely catching up to a surprisingly nimble Joker. He uses his grappling hook to propel himself forward, but Joker has always been slippery, and his attempts at grabbing or tackling his arch nemesis prove fruitless.
Eventually, Joker runs out of rooftops to parkour across. He comes to a skidding stop right before the ledge, turning back to Batman with a wide, sharp-toothed smile. “Oh, shoot! Looks like ya caught me, Batsy.” Joker shrugs, almost playfully, taking a careful step back. His heel is hanging slightly over the edge, and something weird lurches in Bruce's throat.
“Don't you dare take another step, just stay still so I can…” Bruce stops in the middle of his sentence. Joker seems to be leaning backwards.
He takes a step forward, before he lunges and reaches out, but it's too late. Joker falls over the edge, plummeting down several stories.
“Joker!” Bruce cries out, hating the worry that seeped into his voice as he looms over the edge. To his relief, he watches as Joker pulls out some sort of… Large, daisy-themed propeller to gently float to the ground. He lets out a sigh of relief, his heart still racing, but now calming down. Joker lands near the end of a pier sticking out from one of Gotham's more prominent shorelines, which is completely empty due to the late hour.
Bruce wonders what Joker could be planning. He doesn't let himself dwell on it as he extends his cape out, following in Joker's footsteps as he leaps off the edge, gliding down like a flying squirrel, landing just a few feet away from his greatest enemy.
Joker seems amused, if a bit amazed. “Could your cape always do that? I don't remember it doing that.”
“Duh” Bruce wraps the cape around himself, making him look more akin to a silhouette than anything. “What are you planning, J-bird?” He demands, taking a step closer. The distance between them suddenly feels much more significant than it did a second ago.
“You haven't figured it out yet? I thought you were, what, the ‘World's Greatest Detective’? I've left aaaall sorts of clues for you, and I gave you the most obvious one yesterday.” Joker's grin only widens as his eyes land on the slight red stain on the side of Batman's cowl. Just as he thought, still there.
Bruce doesn't respond, just grunts. It causes Joker to laugh, but it isn't that ear-grating, maniacal screech he's used to. It's borderline joyful. Unique, more inhale than laugh.
“You're useless, Batsy. Here, I'll show you.” That certainly puts Bruce on edge. What was Joker going to do? Would a bomb go off underneath them, plunging them into the ocean? Or would a submarine come barreling out of the water? It wouldn't be the first time. Bruce almost doesn't notice Joker stepping closer. His mind screams at him to lunge, to tackle Joker and put the crazy bastard into handcuffs, to be thrown right back into Arkham like always. He almost does, but-
But then Joker's lips are on his.
Joker's lips are chapped and waxy, the lipstick is almost offensive in the way it prevents him from feeling them bare, like a layer of clothes. It's hesitant, and he can tell that Joker is just as afraid of this as he is.
For a second, he's compelled to push Joker away. To stop this right in its tracks, before it can go any further. Alfred's words ring in his ears like they're being said all over again. Don't let what happened before happen again. He can't push Joker away. He can't let this chance slip through his fingers, the way he almost abandoned his family entirely. Bruce has never wanted anything more in his life. He doesn't just hate the Joker. He loves the Joker, and for once, that thought doesn't scare him.
Before he can kiss back, Joker notices his stiffness, and pulls away with a nervous little grin. It's almost sly, but Bruce can see the resignation in Joker's eyes. Almost like acceptance.
“Sorry, I got a little carried away.” Joker tries, his giggle much heavier, in a way. “Y'know, I have a lot of important villainy to get to. And you should really invest in some chapstick, Bats.”
And then Joker is walking away. No. No, this can't end like this.
Bruce spins around, grabbing Joker by the arm, startling his arch nemesis and forcing Joker to turn back. “Wait.”
There's a pause, and Bruce stutters, trying to find the right words. “I… you…” He sighs. This is useless. Instead of bothering with words, he grabs Joker by the collar, smashing their lips together with almost bruising force. He can feel how Joker freezes with shock, before melting into it, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck and finally, Bruce can loosen the force, the kiss turning more gentle as he's assured that Joker won't be going anywhere. His hands move down, wrapping around Joker's waist, holding his arch nemesis with, for once, care.
They stay like that for a while, until Bruce's lungs burn and he's forced to pull back. They're both panting, flushed, and everything feels way too warm, but it's perfect. Kissing Joker feels even better than when he finally admitted that he hated him. That they were greatest enemies.
“I hate you.” He sighs, their foreheads pressed together and God does Bruce wish he could just rip off the cowl and feel Joker, skin to skin.
Joker's smile is watery, leaning into the touch with misty eyes. “I hate you more.”
“Hrn, well… I love you.” Bruce grumbles, and Joker gasps. He feels like he's finally brought his head out of the water, like he can breathe, and he wonders how he ever let himself be afraid of this at all. Their lips are pressing together again, much more desperate. Bruce doesn't plan on letting Joker go just yet. Or anytime soon, for that matter.
—
When Bruce comes back to the Batcave later that morning, covered in lip marks of a familiar red lipstick, Alfred can only sigh and shake his head.
At least the city wasn't being destroyed this time.