Chapter Text
So! A lot of things had changed for Batman since the whole saving the city thing AGAIN. There was, of course, Robin, his number one sidekick and adopted son. And his totally platonic workmates thing with Barbara. And the grandfather-father-son picnics with Alfred and the aforementioned adopted son.
These were all well and good. They did kind of mess up his image of being a brooding, hardened loner with NO FEELINGS AT ALL, but what could he say? Watching Must Love Dogs on his own had become a drag. He was allowed to change and still be the world’s coolest, most awesome and handsome eligible bachelor/hero.
But the worst thing? The absolute worst, most annoying thing to have interrupted his previous life of solo badassery? The Joker had been texting him NON-STOP.
And he wasn’t texting HIM, exactly. Oh, no. Because Batman’s number was unlisted! So there!
But somehow that green-haired, pointy-toothed little menace had gotten his hands on Bruce Wayne’s PRIVATE number.
I know you’re roommates. Please tell Batman to call me back!
It’s the Joker! Remind him about the time we held hands and declared our feelings to each other.
Did Batman get the flowers and bombs I sent? Did he like them?
AND SO ON.
It was enough to drive him mad. No amount of ignoring the texts or blocking the Joker’s number seemed to work, either. The texts continued for weeks on end, until Batman had finally had enough.
He found the Joker in his ‘secret hideout,’ (he had texted the location to Bruce Wayne no fewer than four times over the last week) and dragged him, kicking and screaming, all the way to Arkham.
Well, kicking, screaming, and maybe some flirting? No, not flirting. Was it flirting? He tried not to think about it.
“Stop texting Bruno,” Batman snarled at him, once the Joker was behind glass.
“Who?”
“Bruce Wayne!”
“Oh, him! Did he give you my number?” The Joker asked, hopefully.
“Why would he do that? Why do you keep texting?”
The Joker pouted. “I thought...I thought things would be different now. Now that, you know…”
“What?”
“Now that you’ve admitted how you feel about me.”
Batman thought back. He seemed to remember some mutually agreed upon hatred, but he didn’t see how that should make them texting buddies.
“Well, I did say I hated you.”
The Joker put his hands over his mouth and squealed excitedly. “I know, I know!”
“I still don’t want to text you.”
The man in the cell began to look teary-eyed at his words. Why did he keep doing that? Didn’t he know there wasn’t anything sadder than the tears of a clown?
“I agreed to fight you,” Batman continued. “That’s it.”
“Fine, I get it,” the Joker said, voice sounding watery. “So nothing really has changed?”
Why was Batman starting to feel guilty? Let in a few stray emotions, and suddenly they’re all there, making him, you know, FEEL THINGS.
Batman crossed his arms and glared at his prisoner. “I think I’m done here.”
He turned to leave, his cape swishing behind him in a really amazing and dramatic way. He was too awesome to look behind and witness the destroyed look on the Joker’s face. At least, that’s what he told himself.