Fan Fiction ❯ The Game We Play ❯ Wear & Tear ( Chapter 18 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Dark Jester 
Bumps in the road...?
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Angst / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.18.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 244 | Status: Completed
Bumps in the road...?
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Adventure / Angst / Drama / Psychological / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 12.18.2002 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.7K | Visits: 244 | Status: Completed
Chapter 18 - Wear & Tear
Worried green eyes neglected to blink, staring at the farthest reach of the Batcave they could see.
When was he coming back? It had been hours, now.
Joker was beginning to think Batman was in trouble. Sure, he'd never had to wait at home for him, but... things had changed drastically, lately. It could've been him out there, making the Batman's life miserable. It could've been him with another grand scheme, killing or maiming people at random.
It bothered Joker that Batman was out there by himself, fighting against somebody he hated. What if Batman never CAME back? What if tonight he died?
If Batman died tonight, so would Poison Ivy. Joker would be sure of it. He clenched his fists and fell back onto the bed, too worn to stand any longer. He'd just finished pacing the ledge, again. Very quickly, the computer had lost his interest. And more quickly after that, playing with the various Batsuits kept nearby. Nothing was as fun as the real thing.
Joker sighed and pouted, fidgeting again.
A soft roar began in the distance, but gained volume and aggressiveness quickly. A dim orange light glowed in the depths of the tunnel leading from the cave to the surface. In a matter of seconds, the Batmobile whipped around the corner and wildly careened into the cave.
The car screeched to a halt and the engine died.
And then nothing. The cave was silent except for a few clicks as the engine cooled down.
"Batman?" Joker stood up slowly, his eyes wide in hope. He made his way toward the car and pressed timid fingers against the glass, as though to push it. "B-Bruce? Are you in there?"
The only response Joker received was a dull wet thud on the other side of the window.
"Bruce?!" Joker hit the window a few times, bending over it nervously. "Hey... hey, wake up!" He peered to see through the glass, but couldn't... as always. "Aw, man... how do I open this thing?" He walked around the car once and hit the window again.
There were some scuffling sounds from inside the car and a few moments later, the door opened a little. A tiny red droplet fell onto the floor of the cave.
Joker hurried over to the door and pulled it open, aghast with horror when he was met by the sight of blood along the seat and window. "Bruce?" he asked again. "Oh, don't be hurt. That isn't very clever of you." He reached in and tapped Batman on the shoulder, hesitant to do so for fear of being lashed out against.
Slowly, Batman reached out and grabbed the Joker's arm.
"Help me out." He said weakly.
"Of course." Joker reached in and hooked an arm under Batman's, trying to guide him out of the car. With his own weakened state, it was difficult, and he wasn't really doing much good. "Are you okay? I mean... you aren't badly injured, are you? Was it Ivy?" He strained to hold Batman's considerably heavy body upright.
"Remember how we were talking. . . about getting shot?" Batman struggled with the words as he dragged himself out of the car. As he stood, blood gushed anew from a deep wound in his thigh, and a gash in his neck.
"Y-yes?" Joker couldn't understand what Batman was talking about. What did their conversation have to do with it? He was very quickly growing anxious, not enjoying the look of red on Batman's body one single bit. "Lay down," he instructed, trying to make him go toward the bed.
Batman shook his head, wincing. He was leaving a trail of bloody footprints as he staggered away from the car. "Get Alfred." He said firmly, adjusting his grip on the Joker and revealing a bloody handprint in the process.
Joker frowned and forced Batman down onto the bed. It wasn't very hard to do, considering the circumstances. "Stay here, then." He turned and hurried off, glancing over his shoulder to be sure Batman hadn't moved. "Stay," he ordered a second time. Quickly, he retreated up the stairs and into the Manor, hesitant to really penetrate a place he'd never been allowed into... especially by himself.
"Ummm... Alfred?" Joker called timidly. "Alfred?!" Joker pushed through the grandfather clock and into the library.
"Can I help you?" The butler asked dryly from the end of the hallway.
Joker glared angrily, his expression intimidating. He wanted to lash out and demand respect, feeling the old habit bubbling inside his chest. Shaking his head, he tried suppressing it. "You can help HIM," Joker answered, his voice restricted. "HE is in pain and bleeding all over your nicely polished Batcave."
Alfred sighed, trying not to let the fact that there was a homicidal maniac in the Manor faze him. "Again? Very well." Coolly, he headed toward the study, pausing only momentarily when he was about to pass the Joker.
He was getting too old for this.
Joker growled angrily and snatched Alfred's collar. "How can you be so DISTANT?!" He yanked the older man downward into the Batcave, dragging him along the stairs as he went. "Hurry it UP!" he hissed. At the bottom, he let go and pointed with a quick jerk of his left hand. "Go. Help. Him."
The old butler shook with fear, but he stepped back and adjusted his clothing before making his way over to the bed. Bruce was struggling to breathe, and he'd pulled the cowl off to get more air.
"Had fun tonight, did we?" He sniffed as he started to look his patient over.
"Left leg. Outer thigh. Bullet's still in there." Bruce gasped.
"Of course it is." Alfred replied. "This should be interesting, Master Bruce. Your little tantrum destroyed some of my medical equipment as well as whatever you were intending to break."
"I'm not in the mood, Alfred." Bruce said through gritted teeth.
"You never are, sir." With that, the butler set about rounding up the instruments he'd need to extract the bullet.
Joker stood nearby, his expression shifting every few seconds. It went from rage to concern in fleeting seconds, unable to settle on one particular emotion. He began pacing soon after. It must have been Harley. It had to be.
Which meant she had to pay.
Alfred gathered up whatever he could find and returned to the bed.
"Turn over onto your right side, please." He instructed. Bruce struggled to comply.
Twenty feet onto the bridge leading out of the Batcave, Joker was making his way along, winded and feeling faint from all the moving around. His brow was lowered in anger, intense with the need to avenge the blood on his clothing.
A cry of pain echoed through the cave. With a clank, the bullet fell into the pan Alfred had found.
"Where's Joker?" Bruce asked, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
Alfred looked around but couldn't see the clown.
"I really don't know, Master Bruce." He said as he started the sutures.
Bruce's eyes snapped open. "What?"
Without stopping, Joker started up the next path toward the cave opening.
"Hurry up, Alfred!" Bruce snapped impatiently.
"Hurrying, sir." Alfred muttered, continuing the stitches.
There was a sound of scuffling as the Joker tripped and tried regaining balance, finding his body increasingly unwilling to comply with his demands of it. "Come on!" he snarled to himself, clawing at the ground before making his way back up to his feet.
Bruce was on his feet before Alfred had even trimmed the last stitch.
"JOKER!"
The rage-filled Prince of Crime neglected to answer, furthering his climb up out of the Batcave.
Bruce growled in frustration, then closed his eyes, motioning for Alfred to be silent. If he couldn't see the Joker, he might be able to hear him.
Joker tripped again and grunted in pain, one hand slipping out over the edge. He jerked it back quickly, already moving to get up again.
*Gotcha.* Bruce thought. His heart was pounding violently in his chest, and he felt a little dizzy, but all things considered, he didn't feel too bad. Guess that gas Ivy had nailed him with hadn't done very much. At least that had gone his way, even though the gas mask in his cowl wasn't working.
He grabbed a new cowl and headed into the tunnel after the Joker.
"Go 'way!" Joker called over his shoulder, feeling the approach of Batman. "I have things to do!" He took two more steps before collapsing a third time.
Bruce felt a funny twinge in the back of his head and his vision went wavy. Despite this, he managed to catch up to Joker and grab him from behind.
"Let go," Joker mumbled. He pushed weakly against Batman and struggled to stand up.
"You don't want me to let go." Batman said. He paused, confused: where had that come from?
"No, I want to wring Harley's neck," Joker hissed. He pushed again and then stared up at the cowl. "Why're you wearing that silly thing?"
"Because I didn't have time to change and I wasn't sure if you'd made it outside." Bruce explained. "You're leaving me for Harley, huh? I'm hurt."
He blinked behind the cowl. He was acting really oddly.
"Leaving you?" Joker questioned. "I can't leave someone who doesn't want me around." He frowned and crossed his arms over his purple pajama-covered chest.
"But I DO want you around. I thought we were friends." Bruce responded quickly and emphatically. As he spoke, he grabbed Joker firmly by the shoulder. "Don't leave. Please?"
"Uh..." Joker scratched at the side of his head nervously and then winced. He had to remember not to do that. "O-okay. I guess." He let his arms drop and released a long breath. His resolve faded and disappeared, Harley forgotten for the moment.
"Good." Batman said, letting his hand slide down to the Joker's elbow. He gave it a tug. "Come back in then."
"Fine." Joker started walking back down the sloping entrance to the cave, trying to remind himself he needed to do Harley in, later.
"So can we stop fighting, please?" Batman asked conversationally. "It's really wearing me out."
"Mhmm," Joker answered simply. He wondered in the back of his mind at Batman's behavior, thinking it odd that he was so... eager to be nice all of a sudden.
"I have to ask you something." Batman said, putting his arm around the Joker's shoulders. "When you were messing around with my cowl, did anything come loose or get damaged?"
Joker shook his head a few times and then leaned in against Batman. "No. Why?"
"Because the air filter in it didn't work tonight. Ivy hit me with some green gas. It didn't seem to do anything at the time, but now I'm feeling. . . not myself." As he said this, Batman stumbled a little, but quickly regained his footing. "Might be the blood loss, but I've never had quite these effects before."
"Awww... I'm sorry." Joker twitched a little in Batman's arms, quickly becomming enraged again.
Ivy. Joker hissed something under his breath. Harley. His arms shook briefly with contained emotion.
Those. Detestable. Women!
"I don't think it's really anything to worry about. Gases tend to take fairly short periods to run the course of their effects. And the fact that I'm still conscious is a. . ."
As if on cue, the edges of his vision shimmered black and he stumbled again.
"Okaaay, spoke too soon." He ammended, sounding a bit drunk. "Do me a favor and don't let me pass. . ."
Before he could finish the sentence, he slid down onto the floor.
"Bruce," Joker chided. He sighed and pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to keep himself calm long enough to do what he needed to do. With measured steps, he made his way back down into the Batcave, retrieved the blanket... and then walked back to the collapsed man. "Here," he said calmly, letting it drop down over him.
Joker paused and then took a few extra moments to lovingly tuck it under his body, keeping him warm - as though Batman would care.
After another long while, Joker frowned and laid down a few feet away, watching him quietly as he argued mentally about the demise of his former henchwench.
A while later...
A groan came from Bruce and he started to move again, feeling like a pile of hell. He started to sit up, but that wasn't going to happen quite yet it seemed. He slumped back downward.
"Awake, I see." Joker propped himself up on the terribly uncomfortable floor and watched.
"You could say that." Batman grumbled, lifting his head a little.
As simply as the Joker could manage, he answered with, "I could."
Batman's head dropped back onto the ground. "Don't screw with me, Jack. I'm not in the mood."
In an impressive display of mind over matter, he lurched himself to a sitting position. The wound in his leg, however, wasn't happy about that.
Joker wanted to spit back, "I can't - you won't let me," but refrained and smirked instead. He sat up as well, but leaned on the wall opposite of Batman.
Batman winced, grabbing at his leg. He glanced at the Joker for a moment, then chuckled. "We make one sorry pair right now, don't we?"
"We aren't a pair," Joker grumbled. He stood up and hobbled off toward the Cave, his head and limbs making subtle movements by themselves... as though he were losing control over them, bit by bit. A soft whimper of pain came from him as he vanished from Batman's sight, resting down onto the bed he'd grown used to inhabiting. Batman's medications weren't working as well anymore. Each time the pain was drowned out in less noticable amounts... and each time it returned more quickly. Joker figured he didn't have a lot of time left before it was constant. He didn't want to encourage it.
Batman growled in frustration, then sighed. Joker wasn't going to be happy unless he played at their relationship being some epic romance.
Was wanting a friend really so much to ask? He didn't want the stresses of that dynamic. He wanted someone he could talk to, spill his guts to, really know. . .
And for Christ's sake, he wasn't gay! . . . Was he? Blood loss made things very murky.
He staggered to his feet and used the wall for support as he made his way back to the cave. Automatically, as he'd done so many times before, he stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it.
Joker resisted his urge to hit the person behind him. His nerves were all frayed, confusing his thoughts as they spilled through his mind one after the other. It was getting to be a challenge even to think! He clenched his fists under his arms and tensed up, willing himself to remain silent.
Bruce, semi-conscious, pulled the cowl off and slowly wriggled out of the batsuit, then climbed under the covers of the bed. He was aware of the Joker's presence, but was too weak and light-headed to care. He just needed sleep, and he wasn't going to make it upstairs. The Joker could draw his own conclusions.
After a while, Joker noticed that Bruce settled and his breathing steadied itself out. He sat up and winced when the bed creaked, but climbed up out of bed anyway. Cold and unsettling forest-colored eyes studied the outline of the other man, noting that he'd stripped and tossed his suit to the floor.
He must've been exhausted.
Determined not to put up with being near the man that made him so upset, Joker crawled out of bed and folded his arms, dragging his feet as he walked across the cave. Much like an angry child, he settled into the desk chair and pouted, trying his best to fall asleep.
...but...
Joker yawned and scratched his neck, turning to look back at the bed. Bruce was so big. And warm. And naked.
Seconds later, the white-skinned man was scrambling back into bed, eagerly searching for a way under the covers. He slinked down inside, pulled the sheets up over him and then scooted in toward Bruce.
*
Worried green eyes neglected to blink, staring at the farthest reach of the Batcave they could see.
When was he coming back? It had been hours, now.
Joker was beginning to think Batman was in trouble. Sure, he'd never had to wait at home for him, but... things had changed drastically, lately. It could've been him out there, making the Batman's life miserable. It could've been him with another grand scheme, killing or maiming people at random.
It bothered Joker that Batman was out there by himself, fighting against somebody he hated. What if Batman never CAME back? What if tonight he died?
If Batman died tonight, so would Poison Ivy. Joker would be sure of it. He clenched his fists and fell back onto the bed, too worn to stand any longer. He'd just finished pacing the ledge, again. Very quickly, the computer had lost his interest. And more quickly after that, playing with the various Batsuits kept nearby. Nothing was as fun as the real thing.
Joker sighed and pouted, fidgeting again.
A soft roar began in the distance, but gained volume and aggressiveness quickly. A dim orange light glowed in the depths of the tunnel leading from the cave to the surface. In a matter of seconds, the Batmobile whipped around the corner and wildly careened into the cave.
The car screeched to a halt and the engine died.
And then nothing. The cave was silent except for a few clicks as the engine cooled down.
"Batman?" Joker stood up slowly, his eyes wide in hope. He made his way toward the car and pressed timid fingers against the glass, as though to push it. "B-Bruce? Are you in there?"
The only response Joker received was a dull wet thud on the other side of the window.
"Bruce?!" Joker hit the window a few times, bending over it nervously. "Hey... hey, wake up!" He peered to see through the glass, but couldn't... as always. "Aw, man... how do I open this thing?" He walked around the car once and hit the window again.
There were some scuffling sounds from inside the car and a few moments later, the door opened a little. A tiny red droplet fell onto the floor of the cave.
Joker hurried over to the door and pulled it open, aghast with horror when he was met by the sight of blood along the seat and window. "Bruce?" he asked again. "Oh, don't be hurt. That isn't very clever of you." He reached in and tapped Batman on the shoulder, hesitant to do so for fear of being lashed out against.
Slowly, Batman reached out and grabbed the Joker's arm.
"Help me out." He said weakly.
"Of course." Joker reached in and hooked an arm under Batman's, trying to guide him out of the car. With his own weakened state, it was difficult, and he wasn't really doing much good. "Are you okay? I mean... you aren't badly injured, are you? Was it Ivy?" He strained to hold Batman's considerably heavy body upright.
"Remember how we were talking. . . about getting shot?" Batman struggled with the words as he dragged himself out of the car. As he stood, blood gushed anew from a deep wound in his thigh, and a gash in his neck.
"Y-yes?" Joker couldn't understand what Batman was talking about. What did their conversation have to do with it? He was very quickly growing anxious, not enjoying the look of red on Batman's body one single bit. "Lay down," he instructed, trying to make him go toward the bed.
Batman shook his head, wincing. He was leaving a trail of bloody footprints as he staggered away from the car. "Get Alfred." He said firmly, adjusting his grip on the Joker and revealing a bloody handprint in the process.
Joker frowned and forced Batman down onto the bed. It wasn't very hard to do, considering the circumstances. "Stay here, then." He turned and hurried off, glancing over his shoulder to be sure Batman hadn't moved. "Stay," he ordered a second time. Quickly, he retreated up the stairs and into the Manor, hesitant to really penetrate a place he'd never been allowed into... especially by himself.
"Ummm... Alfred?" Joker called timidly. "Alfred?!" Joker pushed through the grandfather clock and into the library.
"Can I help you?" The butler asked dryly from the end of the hallway.
Joker glared angrily, his expression intimidating. He wanted to lash out and demand respect, feeling the old habit bubbling inside his chest. Shaking his head, he tried suppressing it. "You can help HIM," Joker answered, his voice restricted. "HE is in pain and bleeding all over your nicely polished Batcave."
Alfred sighed, trying not to let the fact that there was a homicidal maniac in the Manor faze him. "Again? Very well." Coolly, he headed toward the study, pausing only momentarily when he was about to pass the Joker.
He was getting too old for this.
Joker growled angrily and snatched Alfred's collar. "How can you be so DISTANT?!" He yanked the older man downward into the Batcave, dragging him along the stairs as he went. "Hurry it UP!" he hissed. At the bottom, he let go and pointed with a quick jerk of his left hand. "Go. Help. Him."
The old butler shook with fear, but he stepped back and adjusted his clothing before making his way over to the bed. Bruce was struggling to breathe, and he'd pulled the cowl off to get more air.
"Had fun tonight, did we?" He sniffed as he started to look his patient over.
"Left leg. Outer thigh. Bullet's still in there." Bruce gasped.
"Of course it is." Alfred replied. "This should be interesting, Master Bruce. Your little tantrum destroyed some of my medical equipment as well as whatever you were intending to break."
"I'm not in the mood, Alfred." Bruce said through gritted teeth.
"You never are, sir." With that, the butler set about rounding up the instruments he'd need to extract the bullet.
Joker stood nearby, his expression shifting every few seconds. It went from rage to concern in fleeting seconds, unable to settle on one particular emotion. He began pacing soon after. It must have been Harley. It had to be.
Which meant she had to pay.
Alfred gathered up whatever he could find and returned to the bed.
"Turn over onto your right side, please." He instructed. Bruce struggled to comply.
Twenty feet onto the bridge leading out of the Batcave, Joker was making his way along, winded and feeling faint from all the moving around. His brow was lowered in anger, intense with the need to avenge the blood on his clothing.
A cry of pain echoed through the cave. With a clank, the bullet fell into the pan Alfred had found.
"Where's Joker?" Bruce asked, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
Alfred looked around but couldn't see the clown.
"I really don't know, Master Bruce." He said as he started the sutures.
Bruce's eyes snapped open. "What?"
Without stopping, Joker started up the next path toward the cave opening.
"Hurry up, Alfred!" Bruce snapped impatiently.
"Hurrying, sir." Alfred muttered, continuing the stitches.
There was a sound of scuffling as the Joker tripped and tried regaining balance, finding his body increasingly unwilling to comply with his demands of it. "Come on!" he snarled to himself, clawing at the ground before making his way back up to his feet.
Bruce was on his feet before Alfred had even trimmed the last stitch.
"JOKER!"
The rage-filled Prince of Crime neglected to answer, furthering his climb up out of the Batcave.
Bruce growled in frustration, then closed his eyes, motioning for Alfred to be silent. If he couldn't see the Joker, he might be able to hear him.
Joker tripped again and grunted in pain, one hand slipping out over the edge. He jerked it back quickly, already moving to get up again.
*Gotcha.* Bruce thought. His heart was pounding violently in his chest, and he felt a little dizzy, but all things considered, he didn't feel too bad. Guess that gas Ivy had nailed him with hadn't done very much. At least that had gone his way, even though the gas mask in his cowl wasn't working.
He grabbed a new cowl and headed into the tunnel after the Joker.
"Go 'way!" Joker called over his shoulder, feeling the approach of Batman. "I have things to do!" He took two more steps before collapsing a third time.
Bruce felt a funny twinge in the back of his head and his vision went wavy. Despite this, he managed to catch up to Joker and grab him from behind.
"Let go," Joker mumbled. He pushed weakly against Batman and struggled to stand up.
"You don't want me to let go." Batman said. He paused, confused: where had that come from?
"No, I want to wring Harley's neck," Joker hissed. He pushed again and then stared up at the cowl. "Why're you wearing that silly thing?"
"Because I didn't have time to change and I wasn't sure if you'd made it outside." Bruce explained. "You're leaving me for Harley, huh? I'm hurt."
He blinked behind the cowl. He was acting really oddly.
"Leaving you?" Joker questioned. "I can't leave someone who doesn't want me around." He frowned and crossed his arms over his purple pajama-covered chest.
"But I DO want you around. I thought we were friends." Bruce responded quickly and emphatically. As he spoke, he grabbed Joker firmly by the shoulder. "Don't leave. Please?"
"Uh..." Joker scratched at the side of his head nervously and then winced. He had to remember not to do that. "O-okay. I guess." He let his arms drop and released a long breath. His resolve faded and disappeared, Harley forgotten for the moment.
"Good." Batman said, letting his hand slide down to the Joker's elbow. He gave it a tug. "Come back in then."
"Fine." Joker started walking back down the sloping entrance to the cave, trying to remind himself he needed to do Harley in, later.
"So can we stop fighting, please?" Batman asked conversationally. "It's really wearing me out."
"Mhmm," Joker answered simply. He wondered in the back of his mind at Batman's behavior, thinking it odd that he was so... eager to be nice all of a sudden.
"I have to ask you something." Batman said, putting his arm around the Joker's shoulders. "When you were messing around with my cowl, did anything come loose or get damaged?"
Joker shook his head a few times and then leaned in against Batman. "No. Why?"
"Because the air filter in it didn't work tonight. Ivy hit me with some green gas. It didn't seem to do anything at the time, but now I'm feeling. . . not myself." As he said this, Batman stumbled a little, but quickly regained his footing. "Might be the blood loss, but I've never had quite these effects before."
"Awww... I'm sorry." Joker twitched a little in Batman's arms, quickly becomming enraged again.
Ivy. Joker hissed something under his breath. Harley. His arms shook briefly with contained emotion.
Those. Detestable. Women!
"I don't think it's really anything to worry about. Gases tend to take fairly short periods to run the course of their effects. And the fact that I'm still conscious is a. . ."
As if on cue, the edges of his vision shimmered black and he stumbled again.
"Okaaay, spoke too soon." He ammended, sounding a bit drunk. "Do me a favor and don't let me pass. . ."
Before he could finish the sentence, he slid down onto the floor.
"Bruce," Joker chided. He sighed and pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to keep himself calm long enough to do what he needed to do. With measured steps, he made his way back down into the Batcave, retrieved the blanket... and then walked back to the collapsed man. "Here," he said calmly, letting it drop down over him.
Joker paused and then took a few extra moments to lovingly tuck it under his body, keeping him warm - as though Batman would care.
After another long while, Joker frowned and laid down a few feet away, watching him quietly as he argued mentally about the demise of his former henchwench.
A while later...
A groan came from Bruce and he started to move again, feeling like a pile of hell. He started to sit up, but that wasn't going to happen quite yet it seemed. He slumped back downward.
"Awake, I see." Joker propped himself up on the terribly uncomfortable floor and watched.
"You could say that." Batman grumbled, lifting his head a little.
As simply as the Joker could manage, he answered with, "I could."
Batman's head dropped back onto the ground. "Don't screw with me, Jack. I'm not in the mood."
In an impressive display of mind over matter, he lurched himself to a sitting position. The wound in his leg, however, wasn't happy about that.
Joker wanted to spit back, "I can't - you won't let me," but refrained and smirked instead. He sat up as well, but leaned on the wall opposite of Batman.
Batman winced, grabbing at his leg. He glanced at the Joker for a moment, then chuckled. "We make one sorry pair right now, don't we?"
"We aren't a pair," Joker grumbled. He stood up and hobbled off toward the Cave, his head and limbs making subtle movements by themselves... as though he were losing control over them, bit by bit. A soft whimper of pain came from him as he vanished from Batman's sight, resting down onto the bed he'd grown used to inhabiting. Batman's medications weren't working as well anymore. Each time the pain was drowned out in less noticable amounts... and each time it returned more quickly. Joker figured he didn't have a lot of time left before it was constant. He didn't want to encourage it.
Batman growled in frustration, then sighed. Joker wasn't going to be happy unless he played at their relationship being some epic romance.
Was wanting a friend really so much to ask? He didn't want the stresses of that dynamic. He wanted someone he could talk to, spill his guts to, really know. . .
And for Christ's sake, he wasn't gay! . . . Was he? Blood loss made things very murky.
He staggered to his feet and used the wall for support as he made his way back to the cave. Automatically, as he'd done so many times before, he stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it.
Joker resisted his urge to hit the person behind him. His nerves were all frayed, confusing his thoughts as they spilled through his mind one after the other. It was getting to be a challenge even to think! He clenched his fists under his arms and tensed up, willing himself to remain silent.
Bruce, semi-conscious, pulled the cowl off and slowly wriggled out of the batsuit, then climbed under the covers of the bed. He was aware of the Joker's presence, but was too weak and light-headed to care. He just needed sleep, and he wasn't going to make it upstairs. The Joker could draw his own conclusions.
After a while, Joker noticed that Bruce settled and his breathing steadied itself out. He sat up and winced when the bed creaked, but climbed up out of bed anyway. Cold and unsettling forest-colored eyes studied the outline of the other man, noting that he'd stripped and tossed his suit to the floor.
He must've been exhausted.
Determined not to put up with being near the man that made him so upset, Joker crawled out of bed and folded his arms, dragging his feet as he walked across the cave. Much like an angry child, he settled into the desk chair and pouted, trying his best to fall asleep.
...but...
Joker yawned and scratched his neck, turning to look back at the bed. Bruce was so big. And warm. And naked.
Seconds later, the white-skinned man was scrambling back into bed, eagerly searching for a way under the covers. He slinked down inside, pulled the sheets up over him and then scooted in toward Bruce.
*