Bruce Wayne was sneaking into his own penthouse, after spending the night at the farmhouse with the Joker, when Alfred accosted him.

“Mr. Wayne,” he said. “I'm wondering just what it is you think you're doing.”

“What do you mean, Alfred?” Said Bruce Wayne.

“I am not an idiot, sir,” retorted Alfred.” I know who you thought you were sneaking in here a few weeks ago when you had your 'headache'. I also know that you are probably fresh from his bed right now. How could you, sir? That man killed your best friend.”

Bruce started and turned white at Alfred's words.

“Stop thinking with your 'little head' this instant, Mr. Wayne!” Alfred admonished him.

 

As Bruce went to lie down, the implication of Alfred's words came home to him. What was he doing?

The thing was; it wasn't just sex. Not anymore. Bruce got the feeling that the Joker understood him better than anyone. The Joker understood about Batman and even encouraged him. But, Alfred was right. What the hell was he doing?

 

Bruce lay under his huge duvet and wondered how he could have made such a colossal mistake. Fucking the Joker? What was worse was that the man was actually starting to become human to him.

 The Joker told him once that he saw Bruce and Batman as two separate people. That surprised Bruce. He sometimes saw himself as both Bruce and Batman. Bruce didn’t think that even Alfred understood so well about Batman.

He drifted off to sleep wondering how he had gotten himself into such a mess, but his dreams were still filled with bright green eyes.

 

When he woke up a couple of hours later, Bruce made a decision. He wouldn’t see the Joker anymore.

Having made that decision, he headed for the showers and a morning wank where he wouldn’t think about the Joker.

For the next four days, Bruce did his best to forget that he had been having a sexual relationship with the Joker. He patrolled as Batman, getting more information about the ‘lost boys’ gang. He went out with Heidi and Madison, and set a date with them for the new gallery opening on Friday. He told himself he wasn’t missing the Joker. He wasn’t keeping an ear out for him when he patrolled. He wasn’t expecting him in the elevator of his penthouse.

 

Friday came, and Bruce took his two favorite dates, Heidi and Madison to the gallery opening. It was a new gallery specializing in abstract art, especially expressionism and abstract expressionism. Bruce bought a couple of pieces because strangely enough, they reminded him of the Joker. Not that he was thinking about the Joker because he wasn’t.

 

Bruce got to the gallery opening and was really attempting to enjoy himself when nature called and he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

He was washing his hands when the Joker appeared in the mirror behind him.

“Miss me?” he asked.

Bruce tried not to be surprised, because the Joker usually showed up like that, but he had to wonder how he did it. Not for the first time, Bruce suspected that the Joker might be ex-military. It would certainly explain his ability to get in practically anywhere, among other things.

“No,” he answered.

“Let me guess,” said the Joker. “Someone reminded you of why you’re supposed to hate me.”

Bruce just stood there looking at him.” I do hate you, “he said.

“No you don’t,” the Joker reached around and caressed his cock through his pants. “At least, part of you doesn’t.”

Bruce cursed his traitorous body and tried to sound angry.

“You killed my best friend.”

“Let me tell you something, Brucey. She may have been your best friend when you were a child, when her mom was working for your dad and you were playmates together, but she wasn’t your best friend. She wasn’t even a good friend. She hated Batman.”

“How did you know that?” Bruce asked.

“It was pretty obvious the night I crashed Harvey Dent’s fundraiser. She was almost as scared of you as she was of me. Someone that cares about you cares about all of you, not just the parts they’re supposed to like.” The Joker’s hand caressed him again after he said this.

“Listen,” the Joker whispered in his ear.” We don’t have time for this right now. Meet me later.”

His hand caressed again.

“No,” Bruce closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings, but the Joker’s hand was caressing him again.

“Meet me here, in front of this gallery, at 2:00 a.m. “The Joker’s hand moved again and Bruce found himself saying yes.

 

 

Bruce got the girls home and had enough time to go on a short patrol as Batman. He was continuing to put fear in the 'lost boys' gang, and he had managed to stop a couple of gun shipments, as well.

He decided to go to the meeting with the Joker as Bruce. He stopped home and changed into a black sweater and black jeans before heading over to the gallery.

The Joker wasn't immediately seen, but as soon as Bruce got there, a shadow detached itself from the others.

“You're right on time,” the Joker said. “Come with me.”

“Why?” asked Bruce.

“Because we're going to have a fight,” the Joker answered.” Do you really want to have it out here?”

He turned and walked away. Bruce followed before he considered what he was doing.

The Joker walked three blocks to a building. He went in and up a flight of stairs. Bruce was surprised. The building was non-descript, as was the door they stopped at. Once inside, it was definitely the Joker’s apartment. It was painted in loud, riotous colors which reminded Bruce of the paintings he had purchased.

 

“So, you’re upset with me.  I killed ‘the woman you loved. Only, and this is funny,” the Joker giggled. “She was going to marry Dent. Now, with you, I can see Batman right here,” he reached forward touched Bruce’s temple gently. ‘With Dent, Two-Face was right there. Even when I first met him at your party. “

 

Bruce was both confused and intrigued.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Brucey, “the Joker singsong.” That if I hadn’t given Dent his little ‘push’, that Two-Face would have appeared anyway. Dent’s father beat him. He would use that coin Dent had. He would tell him; ’heads you’re a bad boy and you deserve a beating, tails you’re a good boy’”.

“But it was a two-headed coin,” Bruce whispered in horror.

“Exactly,” the Joker said with a flourish and giggled again.

 

Bruce sat there in reflective thought for a few minutes, digesting what the Joker had told him.

“So, you see,” the Joker was unable to keep silent any longer.” She would have married someone crazier than you.”

All of Bruce’s rage at the Joker came back and he stood up and grabbed the Joker.

“Can’t you, for once, shut up?” he asked, slamming the Joker against the wall.

“Ah, there we go,” the Joker was still giggling. “I knew Batman would come out and play sooner or later. Slam me again, Brucey.”

 

Bruce did, knocking the Joker’s head into the wall in the process.

“Mmm, “the Joker purred. He shifted his body.

“Aargh,” Bruce angrily slammed him against the wall again. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Do what, Brucey?” The Joker asked innocently.

“This! All of this. You get me riled up and I still want you.” Bruce gestured angrily and punched the wall.

“That’s the point,” the Joker whispered. “It doesn’t have to have meaning. It just is. Go with it. “

Bruce growled again and made as if to turn away, but the Joker had had enough and he grabbed Bruce’s face with his two hands and kissed him. At first, Bruce bit him, but when the Joker groaned in pleasure at the bite, he gave in.

 

He pushed the Joker over his own couch and yanked down his pants. There was a bottle of lotion on the coffee table and Bruce grabbed that. He quickly pushed down his own pants and lubed himself before plunging into the Joker.

 

The Joker hadn’t been prepared and he howled at the intrusion, but Bruce could tell that he liked the pain by the way he was panting. He groaned as he began to fuck the Joker in earnest, unwilling to admit how much he had missed this.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” The Joker panted beneath him. “Just like that, Brucey. Just like that.”

Bruce knocked the Joker’s head against the couch cushions and growled,” Don’t you ever shut up?” He knew that it hadn’t hurt, but the Joker moaned at the gesture.

 

It struck Bruce anew that he shouldn’t enjoy being with the Joker as much as he did. But again, he felt more alive than he had over the past few days.

 

Below him, the Joker was moaning and twisting and with a loud groan, he came all over the couch below him. Bruce held out for another minute or two, viciously thrusting into the Joker before he came too, leaning forward to bite the Joker’s neck.

 

They both lay there panting before Bruce slid out and pulled up his pants.

 

“I don’t know why I do this,” he muttered.

“Because you don’t feel alive without it,” the Joker answered.” Because being with me is like looking into a distorted mirror.”

“Is that why you do it?” Bruce walked around and slumped into a chair.

“Pretty much,” answered the Joker.

 

FIN