Chapter Text
“Once again there is torrential rain in the beautiful city of Gotham. Tonight's weather does not seem to be improving at all…” The newscaster droned on in the background.
Batman had far more important things to worry about than the weather, and besides, the rain made the city look very moody and dark, so he could look cooler while fighting villains.
There was a slight problem in the last statement, however, Batman realised, because for the past two weeks, there had been virtually no crime for him to fight.
This was not good. Batman was having an existential crisis in the middle of his batcave. Did all the villains decide to retire and forget to inform him beforehand? Would he have to retire? What would the purpose of his life be?
Batman twirled around in his chair in agitation.
He stopped himself immediately. He was Batman. No matter how agitated he was, he would never twirl.
Twirling was for clowns, like the Joker.
He missed the Joker.
Maybe the weeks of silence would be broken by a large threat to Gotham? Is that why everyone is so silent?
They were planning a little crime surprise for Batman, that was all! Nobody forgot about him.
Realising that he was literally praying for something terrible to happen to his own city, he sighed. Was he that desperate for validation? Usually putting the Joker in jail would be enough to inflate his little ego for a while.
But now that the Joker wasn't screwing around, he couldn't just barge up to him and demand a fight…
Suddenly, the Batcomputer chimed with an incredibly loud, high-pitched ding!
Batman nearly fell out of his chair. He lunged forward, hitting his chin on the console before furiously typing with two fingers. A massive, flashing red alert filled the screens.
Ohno! What’s happening! I swear I installed my antivirus protection!
ANONYMOUS DOOMSDAY WEAPON DETECTED. LOCATION: GOTHAM LUXURY HOTEL.
Oh thank god, it was just a bomb threat.
Rubbing his chin in what he hoped was a very manly gesture of dominance, Batman stared at the blinking red letters. His brain short-circuited. Joker… Didn’t forget me? We’re still sworn enemies… right?
He had to find him and sort out their complicated relationship.
Batman read the message that had popped out on his screen.
“Where will vengeance be when the city needs him? - H”
Ew. It wasn’t the Joker. Batman contemplated leaving the security threat on read.
After further contemplation, however, it would probably also be in his best interest that his city does not get blown up. He decided to take a look at the issue at hand.
There was just one tiny, minor, completely embarrassing problem. Batman looked at the scrambled data, the encrypted firewalls, and the total lack of clues. He had absolutely no idea how to thwart it. Literally none. His world-class detective brain was completely empty because he hadn’t slept in two weeks due to severe clown withdrawal.
He was totally helpless.
But then, a lightbulb went off in his bat-eared head. A slow, highly unnecessary smirk spread across his face. If he couldn't thwart it alone... he needed an expert. He needed someone chaotic. He needed the Joker. This was perfect! He could use this highly dangerous, city-threatening crisis as a completely legitimate, totally professional excuse to go see him! He didn't look desperate at all. He was just doing his civic duty.
"Alfred!" Batman yelled into the empty cave, dramatically throwing his cape over his shoulder. "Fire up the Batmobile! I have to go and demand help from my nemesis!"
…
“Alfred.”
“ALFRED.”
Alfred came tumbling down the stairs.
“Master Bruce, I have packed your tactical lunchbox. I included extra juice boxes for the Joker.”
Batman sighed in disbelief. Seriously, he wasn’t a kindergartener on a play date!
Grabbing the lunchbox roughly to assert his dominance, he fired off a list of tasks Alfred had to complete in his absence.
Utterly hopeless… Alfred thought, as Batman attempted (but failed) to heroically jump into his Batmobile.
***
The abandoned gag-gift warehouse on the edge of the docks was dead silent. Usually, there would be the sound of cackling, bombs ticking, or at least some upbeat carnival music. Tonight, there was nothing but the sound of the pouring rain.
Batman tiptoed sexily towards the warehouse, the very picture of clandestine.
CRASH!
The skylight shattered into a million pieces as Batman dropped from the ceiling, executing a flawless, dramatic superhero landing onto the dusty concrete floor. He really didn't need to break the glass, but it made him look cooler, so he ignored it. He stood up, throwing his chest out, ready to deliver a booming monologue about justice.
He paused.
The front door of the warehouse was wide open. There was a little mat that said "Welcome" in comic sans.
"Joker!" Batman boomed, his voice dropping into his deepest, most gravelly register. "I know you're in here! Your days of quiet compliance are over!"
At the far end of the warehouse, sitting on a neon green beanbag chair under a single, depressing lightbulb, was the Joker. He was wearing mismatched fuzzy pajamas and holding a half-eaten tub of ice cream. He looked up, his smeared eyeliner making him look incredibly pathetic.
"Batsy?" Joker gasped, dropping his plastic spoon. "You... you came? To see me?"
"Do not flatter yourself, Joker!" Batman marched forward, aggressively pulling out his Bat-pad to show him the encrypted files. "A massive, anonymous threat is targeting the Gotham Luxury Hotel with a weapon of mass destruction. I am completely out of my depth and have no idea how to stop it. Therefore, I am commanding you to help me."
Joker blinked, looking at the screen, then up at Batman's desperate, brooding face. A slow, dramatic tear rolled down the clown's white-painted cheek.
"Oh, Batsy," Joker whispered, clutching his chest like a Victorian maiden. "You missed me so much you made up a whole fake terrorist plot just to talk to me. I knew you cared!"
"It's a real threat!" Batman yelled, his face turning bright red under his mask. "I'm literally using it as an excuse to ask for your help! Wait, no! I mean, it's a real mission! Shut up and help me plan a week-long stakeout!"
Joker thought this over for a while before responding “What’s in it for me, Batsy? You’d never willingly team up with me!” He asked.
“Uh, quality time?”
Fair enough.
***
“For the fifteenth time, no, we will not pretend to make out to distract the guards!” Batman snapped, flinging his tactical lunchbox at the Joker.
“Ooh! Fruit juice!” Joker replied, ignoring Batman completely. “Listen Batsy, we need to surprise our enemies. The number one rule of any mission is: confuse yourself, but confuse your enemies more.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s just you.” He deadpanned, attempting to snatch the fruit juice from the Joker, as the fruit juice tasted pretty fucking good and he wasn’t in the mood to share.
Both were soon close to tears, however, when they realised they could not plan a basic break-and-enter due to clashing views.
You see, Batman wanted a silent but broody, intimidating entrance.
Joker wanted to blow up the front door with a custard covered timebomb.
They couldn’t possibly do both.
“Batsy, the villain will blow up a fancy hotel. It’s not that deep, let's just stay home and eat dinner.”
That was a very strong argument, but Batman had a city to save. “No. If there is no Gotham, there is no us. Remember?”
Joker was hungry. Joker did not seem to care. Joker nodded stupidly, deciding to yield to the Bat for now.
Batman relaxed. The Joker was willing to listen.
As he pushed his brain to the limit for a semi-functional plan, the Joker helped himself to what looked like mouldy jelly and smelled suspiciously of a dog’s arse.
Trying his best to ignore the concerning substance Joker was happily ingesting, Batman paced around. Then, like a heavenly tribulation bolt from above, inspiration struck Batman. “We need to enter the hotel long enough to find and defuse the bomb without their knowledge. In most story plots that go like this, the supervillain would be hiding in plain sight, waiting for the hero to appear.” he brainstormed.
Joker nodded, “We have to be in disguise, enter, find the bomb, the villain, and leave!” he shouted, pleased at his sudden burst of intelligence.
Batman nodded.
There was only one problem. How do they go undercover?
Surely he couldn’t walk in dressed like an overgrown Halloween costume accompanied by a green-haired lunatic?
They stood in the gloomy warehouse, completely stumped. The world’s greatest detective and Gotham’s most chaotic criminal mastermind were utterly defeated by the concept of formal wear.
"I am not wearing a basic tuxedo, Batsy," Joker declared, crossing his arms and pouting. "It completely washes out my complexion. If I can't wear my purple suit, I might as well go naked."
"You are absolutely not going naked to a five-star hotel," Batman growled, his voice dropping an octave in sheer panic. "Think of the collateral damage to my reputation."
He could volunteer to be naked after the mission…
Batman would surely appreciate that after a long day.
Trying his best to contribute to the conversation instead of being horny, Joker then spoke with an expression which suggested he had reached secret spy Nirvana. “What if we dress as priests?"
"Why would we do that?" Batman sighed.
"Nobody suspects priests," he replied calmly.
"Absolutely not." he retorted.
Joker’s eyes lit up with a terrifying, manic glee. He tossed the empty jelly container over his shoulder. “How about we go as a wealthy tech billionaire and his deeply misunderstood, incredibly high-maintenance trophy wife?"
"No," Batman said immediately, his voice dropping an octave in sheer panic.
"Too cliché?" Joker pouted, tapping his chin. "Fine. Business partners. We're here for a convention. The Annual... Uh... Clowns and Bats Enthusiast Gala."
"We are going as high-end critics," Batman stated firmly, crossing his arms. "The Gotham Luxury Hotel is famous for its five-star service. If we arrive as demanding, elitist reviewers, the staff will be too busy kissing our boots to notice us snooping around the boiler rooms. I will be Bruce Wayne's... very distant, very eccentric cousin. And you will be my eccentric, avant-garde interior designer."
Joker gasped, clapping his hands together. "Oh, the drama! The artistic vision! I can already see it, Batsy. I'll demand they repaint the lobby neon purple because the current beige is an 'assault on my creative soul.' While I'm screaming at the manager, you can sneak off and do your little detective routine!"
"Exactly," Batman smirked, highly pleased with his own genius. "It's a flawless, highly professional tactical strategy."
"And what about the bomb?" Joker asked, leaning forward, his smeared eyeliner wrinkling. "What if 'H' sees through your 'manly dominance' and blows us all to kingdom come before we even get to check out the mini-bar?"
"That's where you come in," Batman said, pointing a dramatic, gauntleted finger at the clown. "You're the chaos expert. If things go south, you start a riot. Throw a tantrum. Use your custard-covered timebomb if you must. Just buy me five minutes."
Joker stared at him, a soft, goofy smile spreading across his pale face. "A riot? For you? Oh, Batsy, you really know how to treat a guy. Let me change out of my pajamas. I have a tweed suit that screams 'I judge people for a living' but still matches my hair."
Oblivious to Joker’s increasingly insane train of thought, Batman's eyes lit up under his cowl. He remembered the trunk of the Batmobile. Alfred, ever the over-prepared butler, always packed an emergency contingency wardrobe for every conceivable social scenario.
Ten minutes later, the dynamic duo emerged from the back of the Batmobile.
Batman was wearing a ridiculously oversized, trench coat, a fedora pulled low over his cowl, and a fake mustache taped directly onto his bat-mask. He looked less like a suave secret agent and more like three kids stacked inside a coat trying to sneak into an R-rated movie.
Beside him stood the Joker, who had somehow squeezed into one of Alfred’s spare, pristine butler suits. He had slicked his green hair back with engine grease and was wearing giant, round Harry Potter glasses to 'hide his identity.'
Marvellous. This would definitely work.
"Well?" Joker asked, doing a dramatic runway spin. "Do I look like a respectable member of the proletariat?"
"You look like a sleep-deprived penguin," Batman deadpanned, adjusting his fake mustache, which was peeling off due to his brooding sweat. "But it will have to do.
Remember the plan: we walk in, we blend in, we do not cause a scene."
“And remember, if anyone asks, we are NOT married.” he hissed.
Joker chose to selectively forget that last bit.
"To the hotel, my good sir!" Joker cheered, immediately tripping over the hem of his oversized trousers.
The Gotham Luxury Hotel didn't know what was coming.
***
The ride to the hotel was almost unbearable. The Joker, after stealing an innocent civilian’s car, insisted on an acrobatic performance inside the moving vehicle despite Batman's desperate disagreement.
Surprisingly, no accident occurred due to Batman's unmatched driving skills.
The Batmobile screeched to a halt a block away from the Gotham Luxury Hotel. The pouring rain hammered against the windshield, casting moody, dramatic shadows over Batman’s fake mustache.
"We walk from here," Batman ordered, his voice muffled by the adhesive tape on his upper lip. "Maintain total radio silence. Do not engage with the civilian population."
"Whatever you say, honey," Joker chirped, adjusting his giant round glasses.
"I told you, we are not married!" Batman hissed, throwing open the driver-side door and stepping out into the deluge. He immediately regretted the trench coat. The heavy fabric soaked up the Gotham rain like a sponge, adding an extra fifty pounds of water weight to his already bulky frame. Every step he took sounded like a wet sponge being violently squeezed.
Joker skipped along beside him, completely unbothered by the downpour, holding a neon-green umbrella he had definitely stolen from a child earlier.
The lobby of the Gotham Luxury Hotel was the epitome of high society. Crystal chandeliers gleamed overhead, jazz music played softly, and wealthy socialites sipped champagne in evening gowns and tailored suits.
Then, the front doors slid open.
In walked a massive, square-shaped block of a man in a soaking wet trench coat, a fedora dripping water onto the marble floor, and a handlebar mustache taped crookedly onto a black leather cowl. Behind him slinked a pale, green-haired man in a butler suit three sizes too big, smelling strongly of premium motor oil.
The entire lobby went dead silent. The jazz band stopped playing.
"Greetings, fellow high-society elites," Batman boomed, his voice dropping into his deepest, most intimidating register. He realized too late that he sounded like a mob boss from a B-grade movie trying to buy a used sedan. "I am... Inspector... McCool. From the... Investigation Department of... Wealth."
Joker covered his mouth, snickering loudly. "Oh, Inspector McCool! Truly, your masculine dominance is dazzling!" He then turned to the horrified hotel receptionist, slamming his hands onto the polished mahogany desk. "Listen here, my good proletariat! My employer, the Inspector, requires your finest suite, adjacent to the boiler room, preferably with a view of whatever poor soul is currently planning to blow up this establishment!"
Batman pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his cowl. The fake mustache peeled off entirely and fell into a nearby decorative fountain.
"What my... assistant means to say," Batman growled, stepping forward and dripping a puddle of rainwater onto the pristine rug, "is that we are here to inspect the hotel's infrastructure. Immediately. For justice."
At this commotion, a highly overworked receptionist stepped out to chase the two lunatics out of the hotel. She wore a professional uniform complete with a nametag too fancy for her pay grade.
“Apologies, Mr, uh, McCool and, Mr… Greenhair, but you must leave. You can’t search this place without a warrant.”
"We cannot leave! We lied! We aren't inspectors!" Joker gasped, suddenly clutching his chest. He turned to Batman, his giant Harry Potter glasses fogging up from his dramatic breathing. "Tell her, honey! Tell her about our tragic, forbidden love! Tell her why we had to flee the countryside in nothing but our Sunday best and a stolen sedan!"
Batman’s brain short-circuited. He looked at the receptionist, then at Joker, who was batting his greasy eyelashes with total commitment to the blushing bride role.
"Yes," Batman boomed, his voice dropping into a desperate gravel. "We are... eloping. I am Bruce... senior. And this is my beautiful, deeply eccentric fiancé, Jay."
Sharon crossed her arms, entirely unimpressed. "An elopement. Right. And I suppose that's why your 'fiancé' is wearing a butler suit covered in motor oil, and you have a fake mustache floating in our lobby fountain?"
"It was a themed wedding! We met during Halloween! In the 60s!" Joker cried out, throwing himself dramatically against Batman’s soaked trench coat. "A proletariat-chic aesthetic! Oh, the judgment we face! Batsy… pardon me, Brucie-poo, show her the ring! Show her how much you love your little clown-cake!"
Batman panicked. He didn't have a ring. He had Batarangs, smoke pellets, and an emergency tactical lunchbox, but zero matrimonial jewelry. Desperate to assert his manly dominance over the situation, Batman ripped off his sodden trench coat with a loud, wet rip.
Beneath the coat, Batman wasn't wearing his standard armor. To "blend in," he had attempted to squeeze his massive, hyper-muscled frame into a generic, neon-pink Hawaiian shirt Alfred had left in the trunk. The buttons were screaming for mercy, straining against his massive chest like tiny, plastic soldiers holding back a flood. The short sleeves were cut off mid-bicep, completely suffocating his circulation.
"Look at him!" Joker swooned, pointing a pale finger at the straining buttons. "He wore my favorite color just to appease my delicate sensibilities! Are these the actions of a fake couple, Sharon?!"
Sharon sighed, rubbing her temples. "Look, 'Brucie-poo.' We have a strict policy against letting people snoop around the premises unless they are registered guests. And right now, our system is showing a massive security anomaly on the top floors. If you two are actually a couple, prove it. Kiss, or I'm calling the GCPD."
Batman froze. Kiss? In front of a civilian? With a fake mustache fountain incident fresh on his record?
Joker, however, looked like he had just won the Gotham lottery. He turned to Batman, leaning in close, his smeared red lipstick parted in anticipation. "Well, Inspector McCool? For the city. For justice. Do your civic duty."
Batman stared down at the clown. His severe clown withdrawal was officially cured, replaced by a deep, burning realization that he was about to make out with his arch-nemesis in a five-star hotel lobby just to find a doomsday weapon.
"For... Gotham," Batman growled.
He leaned down, his massive Hawaiian-shirt-clad frame eclipsing the Joker entirely, and grabbed the clown by the waist to assert total tactical dominance.
A few rooms away, ‘H’ was snickering at the two clowns who had to thwart a bomb threat, because apparently that meant making out aggressively in a hotel lobby.