Story Title: Black & White
Chapter Title: Check Mate
Universe: Comic-verse
Word Count: 2,658
Genre: Drama/Romance, Continuation, WIP
Characters: Jonathan Crane, Jervis Tetch
Pairings: Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch
Chapter rating: M
Summary: Jonathan and Jervis find an abandoned games factory. Tim Sale style Scarecrow and more of a Gotham Central/Secret Six style Hatter.
Warnings: Language, adult themes, sexual content
Disclaimer: Characters, quotes, themes, etc © DC and © other people, places, etc. No financial gain is made.

Author's note: Edited.

Please visit my little deviant art page. The user name is xcrowscrowx.

R&R

Check Mate

The old Gotham Games factory resided on the edge of the city. It wasn't the best, but it could have been worse. Jonathan knew; he'd hid in the sleaziest of slums to evade the GCPD's efforts to find him. The manufacturing plant had been rundown for some time but it still held all of its remnants from previous years, old checker boards, 1000 piece puzzles, Chutes and Ladders, and of course chess. It was dingy, tattered, and ransacked, but it was the best they could find on such short notice. "It's a shit-hole," he said in his usual stoic manner. "Figures you would find something less than standard."

"Oh hush, Jonathan," Jervis replied. "I admit I've found better before, but it isn't all that bad. We can clean it up. It'll be frabjous."

"We?" Jonathan asked. "I'm here for a couple nights at most, then I'm off on my own, Tetch, you know that."

Jonathan Crane was not a social person in any sense; he hated interaction with other people and only did so when necessary. He also despised idle chit-chat, especially coming from Jervis Tetch. It was like the man could ramble on for days about nothing, about Alice and how exciting wonderland was, about how it would be simply frabjous to be there, and how the tea is on the fucking stove. No, Jonathan was simply not a social butterfly, but unfortunately the man in his presence embodied it.

"You mean you're leaving?" Jervis asked with a sad expression. "But we just got started!"

"Listen, Tetch," Jonathan interrupted, "I've already explained to you, I work solo. I don't want nor do I need your help. I didn't even want to come here but this is the only place I can hide while I get my shit together. So you'd better get this straight through your thick head, Tetch. I'm gone come morning."

Jervis simply looked up at him. "Would you like some more tea?" he asked, as if he'd heard nothing at all.

Jonathan stared at the shorter man, at that smile and barely contained glee. The conversation ended and Jonathan sighed, letting his angular shoulders roll back in a gesture of defeat. "Sure," he said.

Jervis skittered to one of the many derelict storage rooms, opening the wooden door in haste. He shook his head and went to the next one, mumbling that they couldn't have tea in such filth as he did so. He opened the next door and continued on while Jonathan examined their hideout with more scrutiny. How the hell was Jervis going to make tea here anyway, and with what? Was he going to boil the water in his fucking hands? Now admittedly Jonathan had his moments, sometimes lost in his own world, but it was barely a comparison to Jervis and his constant Carroll tick.

The sounds from Jervis and his exploration drifted as Jonathan let his mind wander. He thought about the reaction of fear he'd seen in the Arkham guard when he and Jervis had made their escape. There had been no knives or guns or toxin, nothing to strike fear- just him; tall, lanky, dark haired Jonathan Crane. It wasn't the Scarecrow, it was him. Oh, how he reveled in the fact that he could elicit terror with just a glance. It was always the man behind the mask, the true mastermind inside… always-

CRASH!

Jonathan's heart skipped a beat and he swiveled at the sound of metal hitting the factory's concrete floor. Jervis popped his head out from behind a door and flashed his sanity free smile. "Oops, clumsy me. Did I frighten you, Jonathan?" he asked.

Jonathan glared and answered, "I was not frightened."

Jervis lost his smile, looked the taller man up and down, and shrugged, regaining his grin as he made his way over to the other side of the factory, all the while seemingly oblivious to Jonathan's blatant scowl. He leapt up the spiral staircase to the next floor and reached for the first handle he found. The door read EMPLOYEES ONLY in big black letters. He opened the door and peered inside, squinting to see what lay within. "Jonathan!" he called. "I've found the perfect place for us to have a nice cup of tea! Come up and we'll make this our stay for the night! Oh, and bring up a chess board while you're down there! Might as well indulge in a game."

Jonathan looked around himself and yelled back sarcastically. "No, you think we should? We might run out of wonderful fun if we start now, and I'm not sure we have enough games." He stopped short the moment he realized Jervis had returned to the room. "Pat-a-cake, Pat-a-cake…" he sighed under his breath. He shook his head.

Concentrating on the mindless whistling emitted from Jervis in the room above, he dug through a stacked pile of dusty board games until he found a chess box. He blew on the top, rustling the dust particles from their resting place and nestled it under his arm. After taking another glance around, he then started towards the staircase. In a few loping strides he reached the second level of the building and came to the opened door of the employee's only room.

As he stepped in he witnessed Jervis perched on a stool leaning over a banged up tea kettle. The kettle was placed on the lounge stove, filled with water, which Jervis had apparently gotten from the working faucet. Next to the sink stood a fridge which had lost its bottom panel; its hinges were rusted and worn, and it was empty.

Two ragged couches sat opposite of one another on the far side of the room, complete with a small stand on which an out-of-date television had been smashed. Wasn't much, but it was far more livable then the rest of the rooms had appeared, and for that Jonathan's mood lightened a nuance. He moved towards the table in the center of the room and noticed Jervis pull out two kinds of tea boxes from the cabinet above, setting them down upon the counter between the stove and the sink.

The blonde man leered over his shoulder at Jonathan and asked, "What kind would you like, friend, Chamomile or English Breakfast?"

"Chamomile," Jonathan replied.

Frankly it didn't matter what kind of tea it was as so long as he had some. Jervis was a finicky person, and if Jonathan rejected the offer of tea it might just make the crazed man jump off the deep end entirely. Jonathan didn't want that. He wanted Jervis to remain as sane and stable as possible, if only for a few days. Jervis was a bit unnerving when he didn't get his way; even Jonathan had to acknowledge that.

"You know," Jervis poured the boiled water into the cleanest cups he could find, "Carroll's Through the Looking Glass is based loosely on a game of chess. The first book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, has a deck of cards as the theme but Through the Looking Glass actually has Alice placed as a pawn in the story. Isn't that interesting?"

Jonathan wore a blank stare. "Yeah, I didn't know that. Thanks for the insight."

Jervis placed the two mugs on the table and slid one towards his friend. He smiled that damned smile and settled back into the nearest seat, sitting down with a jovial flop. Fortunately, the chairs inside the room were still intact, so the two sat in silence whilst sipping their tea, with no cream to Jervis's dismay, and relaxed in an atmosphere resembling the norm. After a moment Jervis decided to break the silence. "How about we commence that game of chess now, Jonathan?"

Sipping his tea, Jonathan peered over his mug and nodded, wondering how the hell Jervis had found a kettle, cups, and tea in their little abandoned crap-hole. Jervis beamed and opened the chess box. He took the board, unfolding it between himself and Jonathan, and began to gather the plastic pieces; white on his side, black on Jonathan's. He finished putting the last pawn in place and cast his gaze to his only friend, whom was still sipping tea. Jonathan set the cup down and met Jervis' blue stare for the first time since they'd arrived.

"White first," he said with a raised brow.

Jervis took his turn, and Jonathan did the same at his, casting his sight to anything but the blonde man's gaze.

"What say we make this a little more interesting? Winner has the pleasure of deciding what to play next. How about that? It'll make the game more… entertaining," Jervis said as he moved his pawn.

"Whatever," Jonathan replied, taking his turn.

And so they continued, going back and forth for a solid forty-five minutes until at last the game was near its end. Jervis had trapped Jonathan's king in a corner, and his queen had already been taken. It was Jervis's turn next and he moved his rook in for the kill, grinning up at Jonathan. "Check mate, dear."

"Well, what do ya' know?" Jonathan said and yawned. He stretched his arms far behind his head. "You win." He was far from impressed, having not cared about who was going to win from the start. The only set back to Jervis winning was the fact that it was his choice what to play next. Jonathan cracked his neck to the side, wishing he could snuggle up with a good book, and waited for his blonde nuisance to decide. "I suppose you'll want to play Candy Land next?" he said with mock excitement.

"Actually," Jervis whispered. He maneuvered his hand to lie atop Jonathan's. "I was thinking we could indulge in something more adult. Maybe a game of… pat-a-cake?" He emphasized his point by rubbing small circles into the muscle between Jonathan's forefinger and thumb.

Jonathan was floored. He gawked wide eyed at the man across him, the man with the Cheshire cat grin.

"What exactly are you proposing, Tetch?!" he said.

"Oh come now, Jonathan, you know I'm as hopeless as a Jubjub. You can't possibly be that clueless," Jervis said. "And I won, so it is my choice, right?"

Jonathan was once again speechless. He snatched his hand from under Jervis's and gave the man a bewildered look. He shook his head, tearing his sight away to eye the remaining pieces on the checkered board.

"Jonathan, that's not fair," Jervis said with a whine. "We made a deal. I mean, what are you," He grinned deviously, "scared?"

Jonathan's head snapped to attention and he glowered.

"Are you a 'lil scared, Jonathan? Why are you frightened? I can understand, we're all scared of something." He ceased his taunting the moment Jonathan shot forward and seized the blue collar of his issued asylum shirt.

Fury stuck to Jonathan's features as he met that triumphant gaze eye to eye, this time without apprehension. "I am not afraid."

"Prove it," Jervis replied and licked his lips.

That was all it took for Jonathan to slam him down atop the chess board, the abiding pieces and tea flying from the table and spinning to the tiled floor. He shoved Jervis down with clenched fists, his angry face inches away. Jervis bent upwards and puckered up his lips. They kissed roughly, and Jervis ran his hands over the fabric of Jonathan's matching shirt, lifting it after reaching the bottom seam. Small hands ran franticly over Jonathan's lean torso and he inhaled sharply, tearing his lips away. He grabbed Jervis's hands and forced them above the blonde man's head. Panting, he strained to keep his cool while Jervis smirked below him, softly struggling against his grip.

"You're mad!" Jonathan yelled. He was losing his grasp on Jervis and the small amount of sanity he held.

The Hatter peered up, the corners of his mouth imitating the ghost of a smile, and said, "We're all mad here."

Jonathan's mind snapped as he bent forward and delivered a bruising kiss, it turning somewhat gentle as Jervis's tongue slid out. Jonathan hesitantly opened his mouth, shutting his eyes tight when he felt the tongue brush inside. Suppressing the urge to run, he instead tried to kiss back. Why be afraid? What the hell was wrong with him? He had no fear. None. He was not going to back down to some fool's dare, especially not from Jervis Tetch. Their kissing escalated, tongues colliding together as Jervis clung to his shirt. Soon, kissing wasn't enough, and Jervis tore his lips away to tug at the fabric between them. Jonathan arched up and in one swoop relieved himself of the cloth. Jervis did the same. They both paused.

Jonathan caught the other man's lips once more and kept his eyes closed, but opened them wide when he heard Jervis whisper.

"Jonathan wonderland is near. It's down the rabbit hole, Jonathan."

Jonathan pulled away, tilted his head, and whispered, "Jonathan isn't here right now." He stripped Jervis of the rest of his clothing, slipping off the man's shoes and socks. When both their skins were exposed to the chill of the air he leaned forward, meeting Jervis square in the face. "You're not going to like pat-a-cake when I'm through."

Jervis clenched at the intrusion and strained to relax. "Beware the Jabberwock," he said with a small giggled. "The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!" He jerked as Jonathan gave a particularly forceful thrust.

After a few more moments of awkward rhythm Jonathan began to find a good pace and Jervis, more at ease then before, began to move in unison along with him.

"Wonderland. I'm almost there," Jervis said.

Jonathan gripped the blonde man's jaw and looked into his ocean blue eye, seeing an endless abyss therein. In that moment Jervis came, and Jonathan's own orgasm reached its peak. He then collapsed upon Jervis, body slumping as his legs gave out.

Jervis sighed dreamily. "I was there. Ah, Wonderland…"

Jonathan abruptly pulled away. He needed a rag, something. Looking down he saw his own shirt. He picked it up and started to clean himself, wiping the contents of Jervis's… ecstasy from his stomach. Stalking towards the sink, he ran the shirt under some water, using it again to clean the rest of himself. Jervis was still splayed atop the chess board, sighing to himself and running his hands through his hair.

"Are you just going to lay there? Get up," Jonathan said. He threw his dirty shirt at the man.

Jervis sat forward and placed his outstretched arms behind him for support, his legs dangling off the side of the table. He appeared listless, eyes half lidded and smile clear. Jonathan's eyes narrowed and he grabbed his pants. He pulled them on and said, "I'll need to get more clothing."

"Where is your scarecrow costume?" Jervis asked in a daze.

"None of your damn business," Jonathan replied.

He glanced over and saw Jervis cleaning himself, and suddenly he had to get away. He skulked out of the employee's lounge and went to the side of the staircase, leaning his forearms onto the banister. He gripped a hand in his hair. Looking down at all the abandoned junk below, he wanted to retch. He was such a fool.

"I suppose you'll want to stay, Jonathan?" He could hear Jervis say in the other room. "You simply can't leave now that we've found wonderland together."

Jonathan didn't reply; he still felt sick. What happened to him? He curled up and almost laughed, but a realization came, hitting him hard like a freight train going full speed. There'd been no silly bowtie, no micro-technology, no electronic headband placed within the confines of his hat. It was him; short, annoying, blonde haired Jervis Tetch. It wasn't the Hatter… it was him. Jonathan felt himself begin to vomit.

"Tea is on the stove, Jonathan!"