I HAD to write about this pairing. I'm listening to Evanescence and reading back over some of my favorite fanfics and now I just want to write. My latest obsession is Batman/Joker, which is truly the freakiest pairing I've ever liked, but what can you do?

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight, which means that Batman and Joker are not my original characters. The claim to these characters belongs to their respective owners.

Bloody Addiction

He stared below at the city, relishing the darkness and the gloomy town of criminals and crime. Secretly, he still ached for more.

Licking his lips, he continued to taste the blood he used to color his mouth. The taste was something that was a part of him now. Blood, all in all, did not have too bad a taste. And after experiencing the metallic flavor for so many years, one grows used to it.

A man in his position really could not be picky about anything. His hunger for chaos was able to dull any other flavor within his mouth. There was no sweet, no bitter, no spice. It was all dulled.

He diluted the illusion of flavor with his powerful visions, the very things that made his existence worth anything.

Humanity meant nothing. It really didn't.

All of these pathetic creatures…he only saw greed and selfish little emotions within them. Fear, corruption, everything. Yet, they see him, an idealist, as something filthy and wrong. He was the evil in the world.

But he knew it wasn't true. Chaos was not evil. There was a fine line, but there was a difference.

His way of thinking, his actions, may not fit into the standard code of morals just about everyone else had, but that was the point. Ever since the day he came into the world, he was designed to be unique. It was fate.

His mission was to spread his message of chaos and anarchy and ground it into the world. Even if they never paid it attention, he was going to shove it into their thick skulls until they freaking go it.

Sighing contentedly, he began to envision the city around him engulfed in an intense fire. He could almost feel the heat and made a soft, unidentifiable noise out of desire for that thought to become a reality. Seeing the world burn…he would love to see it.

A world of darkness where the only light comes from fire. The fire of hate, of death, of turmoil.

A little bit of light started to come off the horizon and he sighed in irritation, the orange rays casting off his white make up and making the black around his naturally dark eyes stand out even more. He licked his red lips again and looked back down at Gotham City once more.

Tomorrow night…he was going to come back out and play.

After his long absence, he was going to play.

And not only that, he would draw out his favorite toy.

Leaving the hated city below with that thought, the man was gone in a blur of purple from his suit and dark green from his wild hair. He was gone in a quick wind of toxic.

Bruce Wayne lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

His eyelids felt heavy and it was nice and shadowy in his bedroom, the only light coming from the moon outside his window. But despite these ideal conditions, he could not urge his body into a state of sleep.

Deep down, he hungered to prowl the death of night.

His soul had become that of the Bat. He was hardly Bruce Wayne anymore. He was the Batman.

Honestly, the billionaire felt more at home sneaking and slipping into the shadows of the slums in Gotham verses sleeping in his huge, gorgeous mansion. How does that add up?

But not only did he itch to run free in the darkness outside, an anxiety was storing up inside his chest.

The insane laughter. The blood-red smile. Those wild eyes.

He could only see the man who had nearly burned the city to ashes. The man who had driven Harvey Dent, Gotham's white knight, into madness. The man who had killed the woman he had loved.

The Joker.

He was back and running wild right at this second. One month in Arkham Asylum, and now he was back.

That God damned placed didn't know shit about security. And if they did, they certainly weren't applying it.

Do they not understand that a madman needs to be strapped down every waking moment?

Apparently not…

Groaning in frustration, Bruce sprang up and shook his head.

"I can't sleep…" He slid out of bed and crept into his Bat cave under the manor. Everything was quiet and a little dusty.

He hadn't been down there for a month. The police had gotten their act together recently, and with the Mob ground out thanks to, ironically enough, the Joker, things were easy enough to keep under control.

Although, now that the clown was out, maybe it was time for the Dark Knight to resurface.

He frowned briefly and pressed a button. His suit rose up in a containment pod, taunting him cruelly. He wanted to wear the armor more than he wanted to breathe right now. The suit that turned him into a creature of the shadows.

His hand "slipped" and brushed the button that opened the containment pod with a loud hiss. Fingers shaking, he reached up and brushed his hand against the bat insignia on the breast plate of the armor.

"What would one night hurt?" he asked himself.

Humming a tune quietly to himself, Joker laid back and listened to the screams below, smelling the smoke and chuckling airily.

"Beautiful, wonderful chaos…" he sighed, feeling his heart pounding wildly with excitement in his chest. There was one thing, only one, which could heighten this moment up anymore.

The soft swoosh of a cape caught his attention and he sat up, capturing sight of that very thing that made this moment of ecstasy for him even greater. Quickly, he grinned and jumped to his feet.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Batman. It's been a while."

"A month."

"Far too long, really."

"How did you escape Arkham?" Joker scoffed and eyed him, licking the inside of his cheek briefly.

"Have you seen their security, Batty? I mean, you throw half of the lunatics in Gotham in there, I'd have thought you'd at least take the time to see where they're going."

"I don't bother. I'm too busy stopping scum like you."

"What did I tell you about talking like one of them?" Joker asked, frowning briefly. "I know how they've turned on you. I know how you lied to save Harvey's reputation. You're just so noble, aren't you?"

"Shut up."

"You know, sooner or later, the truth will leak out. Then what?" Joker smirked smugly and crossed his arms. "I'll have won. Gotham will finally crumble and burn." As if rehearsed, the neighboring building Joker had set on fire and placed bombs in started to collapse.

Batman growled at him.

"You're sick!"

"Says you." Joker snickered darkly. "Face it, Batman, no matter how noble you are, you can never truly defeat me unless you kill me, and either way I'll still win. I'll have corrupted Gotham's true hero and anarchy will rise in the hatred and confusion that comes out of it.

"Or, you will let me live and just keep throwing me in Arkham. If that's the case, it will never end." Batman punched him in the jaw.

"Damn you!" Joker grabbed his face and cackled wildly.

"Oh, that hurt Batman. That really hurt. I've really missed our little fistfights." He grinned wildly. "Come on then, let's play." Batman ran at him and punched him in the stomach. Joker grunted and kicked Batman in the ribs, cackling.

He stomped his foot and a blade came out of the tip of his shoe. He ran at Batman and kicked him in the side, earning a much desired shout of pain. Cackling, he ran at him again, prepared to dig the blade back through a weak spot in the armor.

Batman growled and hit him in the face, causing the Joker to fall on his back. He snickered.

"I see you brought your A-game, Batman." Joker stood up and cracked his neck. "But so have I." He kicked him in the stomach and Batman gagged a little at the force and gasped roughly.

The Joker continued to beat him about the head and shoulders, laughing crazily. Growling, Batman popped his elbow back and jabbed him in the gut with all the strength he could offer, earning a gag from the clown.

Before he could smash his fist into his face, Joker stumbled back, letting Batman swing his arm uselessly at the air. He picked up a rod and ran at him, prepared to hit him.

Batman leapt back and picked up another rod. The metal clanked as the two madmen clashed.

"The eternal battle of good and evil…"

Joker grinned, his blood pounding in his veins. He felt so alive. All it took was a battle with Batman to get him feeling this way. The masked vigilante truly did complete him.

"It'll never end…"

The sound of sirens came from below and Batman paused, but immediately regretted it. The pipe came into sharp contact with his skull and made everything spin. He staggered backwards and fell into a pile of trash bags.

Joker skipped up to him, humming a little. He tossed the pipe aside and pulled out a knife, licking the blade slowly.

Batman opened his eyes and saw Joker hovering over him, his tongue gliding over the gleaming metal.

He felt an unusual lurch in his stomach and assumed it came from fear and disgust. Joker knelt in front of him, pressing the edge of the knife against the corner of Batman's mouth, smirking.

"You know…I could kill you…I really could. But you….you are just too much fun to kill." He licked his lips and laughed silently. "Those cops should be here any minute now." Joker smacked his lips thoughtfully. "I could just leave you here for them to take…but where's the fun in that?"

He offered a hand and Batman stared at it venomously. Slapping it away, he moved his face away from the knife Joker had pressed against his flesh.

"Don't touch me, freak." Joker clicked his tongue.

"Now that's not very nice of you, is it, Batman?" He backed up, smirking. "Well, don't worry. I'll be back to play tomorrow night." He backed up to the edge of the building.

"What are you doing?" Batman asked, standing up and trying not to show any signs of fatigue or pain. Those wounds inflicted by the Joker were worse than he thought. He could feel blood. It made his armor stick to his flesh uncomfortably, but he was able to ignore it.

"Don't worry about me. You, though, might want to get moving. I wouldn't want you going to prison without me." Snickering, Joker jumped off the edge.

Batman gasped in horror and ran to look over the side. Joker yanked out another knife and slammed it to the face of the building. He slid down, the metal leaving a trail of sparks behind him.

He leapt off the side and landed on top of a van. Batman watched him stand and dust himself off, a striking figure in the light of the fire that continued to incinerate the remains of the building. His green hair reflected the light and glowed with a dim, bronzy sheen and his grinning face made him a frightening image to behold.

Smirking and waving up at Batman, he leapt off the car, pulling out a gun. God, how much shit can one guy carry in that suit?

It wasn't long before he was gone.

Batman sighed and hit a device on his utility belt, shooting out a thick wire. He swung down off the building and vanished into the dead of night.

When Gordon came up to the rooftop, he saw a little bit of blood and two dented rods on the floor.

Bruce lay back in his office, tossing cards onto the floor. He had obtained a deck of playing cards and was tired of Solitaire.

"King of clubs…"

He tossed another one on the floor.

"Four of diamonds…"

One more card.

"Joker…" His eyes widened and he stood up, staring at the card fixedly.

Meanwhile, Joker was leaning back in his chair, resting his feet on an old desk in a warehouse near the old shipyard on the outskirts of Gotham.

He, too, was tossing playing cards aside.

A joker card flew onto the floor and he stared at it.

"Hmm…" He stood up and picked it up, eyeing it with a mild sense of curiosity, licking the back of his front teeth.

"Doesn't mean a thing." Bruce tossed the card into his trashcan.

"Eh." Joker let it float back to the floor before flinging the rest of the desk onto the ground, frowning mildly. "I really need something to do."

Bruce flung the deck onto the floor and his heart knotted up miserable in his chest as he stared at the cards on the top of the messy pile.


"I'm losing it…It's just cards."

He walked out of his office.

"Just cards…"

Joker looked up at the cracked ceiling, wishing wistfully for the night to fall. He wanted to play with his toy.

"Mmm…" He sucked the inside of his cheek, wondering for a moment what his friend was up to right now. Then, he pondered as to whose face was beneath that cowl. Maybe, just maybe, he'd figure it out someday. Just him. Nobody else could ever know.

The Bat would be his.

His enemy. His rival. His…

Joker scrunched his forehead, searching his brain for a third thing.

He couldn't think of it at the moment, but it would come to him. Eventually. His mind worked in unpredictable ways. Even he himself wasn't perfectly certain what he would think of next.

The day was moving too slow. Secretly, he cursed the sun.

After all…Bats only come out to play at night…

Bruce was sitting alone, eating dinner. Alfred was already in bed and it was well after midnight.

For a moment, he thought about the Joker. He wondered what he was up to right now. Then, he wondered why he cared.

"To protect Gotham, of course!"

However, something inside of him was contradicting that reasoning. He didn't know what it was, but something was telling him that wasn't the real reason. Gotham was not his reason for wondering about the insane clown on the streets right now.

Gotham wasn't the reason he wondered whether or not that man was dead or alive. Gotham wasn't the reason he cared. For once, it really wasn't.

Bruce wanted to slap himself.

The Joker was a homicidal psychopath!

He had killed Rachel.

He made Harvey Dent go insane.

And yet…there was something that made him different from all the other criminals he faced. Something that made the Batman want to keep him in one piece, no matter what. Something made him want to address him as "Joker" not "the Joker."

Some people don't see a difference, but Batman felt more intimacy in calling someone what they are without the word "the" in front of it. If someone called him "Batman" verses "the Batman," there was something more personal about it to him.

He didn't understand what was making him feel this torn inside. It was like three things were tugging at him in different directions to the point where he was about to be ripped into a bunch of little, tiny pieces.

One thing that was pulling was his sense of justice. His undeniable desire to fight off the scum of Gotham and brighten the darkness.

Then, there were his feelings of doubt. The feeling that, no matter what he did, Gotham would never, ever change. There would always be criminals soiling his home.

Finally, his pain. The bruises and scars on his heart that ached down to the core of his being. They were what kept him moving.

However, he was starting to feel like there was a forth thing pulling at him. He wasn't sure what it was.

Before, it had been his hope. His hope to be with Rachel for the rest of his life. But that became impossible the moment she had died.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair and pushed his plate away, all interest in the filet mignon and baked potato lost.

He remembered what Alfred had told him a long time ago about the Joker and what the Joker had told him about how they were similar. It was all coming together in his mind. He realized that, part of it was true.

He and the Joker were not as different as one might think at the first glance.

Batman and the Joker were both beasts straight from Hell. Joker was the demon who spit in the face of the devil; Batman was the reject of the divine world above and the flames down below. They were destined to battle it out in a never-ending struggle, trying to balance each other.

They truly completed each other…

The way he thought of it made his stomach lurch again and he almost thought he'd vomit. A burning sensation, resembling that of a strong alcoholic beverage searing his esophagus, came next and he could not understand it.

"What…the hell?" he hissed to himself, unable to understand what was going on with his body. The strange sensations that continued to irk him were starting to become a problem.

The last time these lurches and burning sensations had really affected him was the last time he'd seen…


Flinging him off the building.

Saving his life.

Watching him dangle there, taunting him.

What in God's name did it mean?

Bruce remembered that night in the police holding cell, his interrogation of the madman. The way he fought him with such hatred and anger.

No other villain ever brought out his passion like the Joker did.

A grimace came briefly when he thought of the words "Joker" and "passion" in the same sentence. And all at once, the lurch came back. It left an odd tingling sensation in him and he wanted to rip his hair from his scalp in frustration.

Suddenly, he felt a strong desire to get his suit on and see what he would find in the underbelly of Gotham. He had a sudden need to see that scarred face that struck terror into the hearts of every sane person in Gotham.

"I guess I really am insane…" he thought grimly before going into the Bat Cave.

"I've left things quiet for too long…I know you've been looking for me, but I wanted to give you a little vacation."

Joker tapped his fingers against his knee. He sat with one leg propped and the other flat against the floor, draping an arm over his one leg. His eyes were half lidded as he muttered incoherently to himself, clicking his tongue in a strange, rhythmic way.

He was waiting.

Patience is a virtue he was blessed with.

"It's been a month, Batty. I wonder if you miss me. I heard you were looking for me. Well, now I'm coming back out to have a little fun."

The truck came up and Joker stood, popping his neck and cracking his knuckles. He picked up the shotgun he had laying on the concrete before stalking over to the truck.

"Ready, boys?" he asked, looking around at the three clowns he had in the back of the truck. There was a small pile of guns and other weapons lying in the middle of the floor. The clowns all nodded and Joker kicked the wall, signaling the driver to get a move on.

He laughed in an odd, quiet little way that screamed insanity. Cocking his gun, he looked out the open slot of the truck, waiting for target practice to begin.

Bruce Wayne was just leaving Wayne Enterprises after a long, irritating meeting. Now, he couldn't wait to get out of there.

"Hello Master Wayne." Alfred opened the door for him.

"Hi Alfred." He started to get in but something didn't feel right. He paused and walked a few feet away from the limo, narrowing his eyes.

"Something wrong, Master Wayne?"

"I'm not sure, Alfred…" A truck rounded a corner sharply and he stared as it sped in his direction. The sound of gun shots and explosions followed quickly. His eyes widened as cars and buildings started to blow and people on the streets were shot. "GET DOWN!"

He tackled Alfred and they ducked a few feet from the limo.

Joker bit the top off a grenade and tossed it at the limo. It sizzled and Bruce yanked Alfred away from it, narrowly avoiding the explosion. Joker pursed his lips and looked back at the billionaire with a dull gleam in his dark eyes.

"That guy…"

Bruce looked up and stared after the Joker. Joker blinked and started to think about something.

Slowly, a grin started to spread over his face. A crazed smile that horrified his minions. It was the last thing the three of them saw before receiving a mouthful of bullets.

Another week passed uneventfully. Joker was quiet again.

But after killing over seventy people and blowing up about forty cars and nine buildings, it made Bruce anxious for what he was going to do next.

Batman was also quiet.

He avoided his late night crusades. Gordon was relieved. Batman was lying low again.

But, things don't stay quiet for too long in Gotham. Nope.

And a knock on the door at Wayne Manor was perfect proof.

Alfred answered it and was surprised to find a small, wrapped box on the doorstep. He picked it up and examined it curiously. The only thing on it besides a bow was a tag that read "Bruce."

It was a petite box wrapped in silver paper with a purple bow.

"Master Wayne." He walked inside the manor and handed the box to Bruce, who was lying on his bed, watching a movie. "This just arrived for you."

"Who from?" Alfred shrugged.

"A secret admirer?" he suggested. Bruce smiled and accepted the box.

"Thanks, Alfred." He watched his butler leave the room and undid the ribbon before opening the lid. The thing inside was a piece of paper. He pulled it out and a joker card fell out and landed on the box.

His heart stopped beating for a moment and he quickly opened the paper.

Hello Batman.

I have a request of you. Come to the old pier this Sunday night precisely at 11:00 pm, or I blow up City Hall at midnight.

I'll be waiting for you.

Come alone.

Bruce felt the blood drain from his face and his breathing became shallow with fear. His whole body felt like it was on ice and he was afraid he'd pass out.

Joker was humming a song and dancing around, feeling positively giddy.

"I know who Batman is…" he sang, still dancing with an imaginary partner. "Ah, Brucey, Brucey." He snickered, licking his lips in excitement.

It was Friday night and he was on the roof of some random building, blowing up random things and allowing the flames to fill the air. He loved it all so very much!

Chaos, sweet chaos.

All of his desires were so delicious; they just about drove him…

"Crazy!" Snickering wildly, he clapped and ran to the edge of the building and leaned as far forward as gravity would allow him.

The smell of smoke filled his nose and he breathed it in deep.

"Ah, anarchy. My wonderful little drug."

He licked his lips and could almost see the shape of a bat in the fire. His second drug.

Joker pulled out a knife and used it to kill one of his clowns. He watched the beautiful, red blood flow and smirked.

"All it takes to get a dose of my favorite drugs is a little blood…" Laughing, he picked up the body of his minion and flung it down to the fire below. "Everything burns…yes, everything burns."

In the quest for power, for wealth, for prosperity, flames engulfed those who strive and connive along with all who got involved.

Joker loved to help spark the flame and watch it spread like food coloring spreads in water.

There was something so erotic about fire. About blood. It made him get Goosebumps and shiver with pleasure every time he thought about it. Batman had that same effect on him.

And now that he knew who he was, he could gain access to him whenever he wanted without getting the damn press or the police involved.

What would happen next between them, he wondered.

No matter what it was, he lived for his obsession.

The sun finally set on Sunday evening. Bruce refused to tell Alfred where he was going. All he said, was he had a date.

The past few days had been a living hell for him.

Those damn lurches and tingling feelings were back and stronger than ever. His anticipation was hard to hide along with his anxiety and…something else. A feeling he wasn't too sure how to describe. It was an emotion that alarmed him.

His thoughts were foggy and clouded with thoughts that were disturbing.

They involved him seeing his fights with Joker as…something else. Something sensual that left him a little bit…heated. He replayed fights in his mind, reliving pressing his body against that of the clown.

However, instead of reliving the anger in the fight, he experienced different feelings.

He hoped to God that these blasted feelings would leave him once he was standing face to face with the maniac. Hopefully, that heinous face and rotten personality would turn him off to such disgusting concepts forever.

The clock struck eleven.

Batman stood ready for whatever was to happen next. He could smell the salty water of the sea and hear a few late seagulls in the air. This was odd, but he didn't ask questions.

What was left here was all rusted metal and rotting wood. The breeze made old chains cling together weakly and created an ominous air. All that was missing was fog and the sound of random creatures in the depth of the night.

He breathed slowly, peeling his ears for any sounds, any movement.

He heard stirring and turned to see his clown.

Wait…what did he mean his clown?


"How did you find out?"

"It was simple, really. The night I wanted to lure you out, I tried to shoot at you as Bruce Wayne. Your reflexes…they weren't exactly normal. Most of the morons in this city just stand there and become my targets.

"You, on the other hand, moved. You even saved your butler friend, quite impressive. After that, it was all a matter of putting the pieces together. At your little shindig for Harvey, you dove after that woman without a minute lost. I looked back and she used to be your girl. Hm?"

Batman growled low in his throat.

"You saved that stupid lawyer from getting in one hell of an accident. Uh, when Batman apparently went after Lau, you had that love boat thing. I didn't really get into all the details." Batman grabbed him by the jacket and slammed him into the wall of an old building, practically snarling like a rabid dog ready to bite the face off some kid poking him with a stick.

"I swear to God, I am tempted to break your neck right here and now."

"Aw, Brucey, relax. Who said I was going to mention this to anyone? Hm?" He raised his eyebrows and Batman loosened his grip a little.

"Then why bother telling me you know?"

"It'll be our little secret, simple as that." He lowered him slowly, watching him warily, while the Joker merely smiled at him. He straightened his collar and smirked. "You're so very paranoid, aren't you?"

"If you so much as breathe a word-"

"Calm down already. Look, I may be a criminal, but when I give my word, I mean it. Like when I promised to kill those people, I was dead serious. And when I…hm…I guess all of my promises pretty much related to killing someone, but you get the point."

"Hmph. Is that the only reason you called me here?"

"I was bored."

"…you were…bored?" he repeated, staring at him with disbelief in his eyes. Joker nodded.

"Yup, I wanted to play."

"You're crazy."

"Ah, ah. So are you, Batty, so are you. Don't use the term crazy like it only applies to me. It sure as hell doesn't. I swear…the whole world is crazy. I cannot think of one person, not a one, who is totally sane. Can you?" Joker urged, eyeing him. "Well?"

"Shut up."

"And if I refuse?" Batman punched him and Joker laughed. He wiped his mouth and grinned, licking his lips. "Now we're talking."

And so, that began their usual fight.

Batman aimed punches and kicks at the clown, and he refuted with his own strikes. Tonight he left the knives and guns out of it. For a change, he was totally alone. No random clowns popping out of nowhere, nothing.

Batman was starting to smell a rat…

Joker spun gracefully and dodged a kick, temporarily freezing Batman. He didn't know why, but he was so entranced by the way his lithe body turned in such amazing timing to avoid him. It was like the Joker wasn't fighting with him but dancing.

In his stupor, he was caught off guard when Joker clipped him in the chin. As Batman stumbled back, Joker tsked and wagged his finger.

"Sloppy, very sloppy." Growling, Batman lunged at him.

Joker moved aside and turned his torso over his left shoulder to watch Batman, his eyes glittering maliciously. Batman ground his foot into the floor to stop him and moved toward the clown once again.

They exchanged more punches and kicks.

After a while, it felt rehearsed. Like something they had written together. Each move felt perfectly planned.

Joker punching, Batman catching his hand in his fist. Him trying to kick him and break his nose and Joker pulling off a Matrix and demonstrating an amazing elasticity in his spinal cord as he bowed backwards and out of harm's way.

It was an amazing thing.

Watching the two damned figures of the night, moving together in the light of the bloody moon, was like staring at an enticing tango. It had a beautiful, almost erotic effect on the mind.

Joker spun and brought his foot around at Batman, who caught his foot and threw him back. All at once, the spell was broken.

Joker hit the ground and groaned a little before snickering.

"Mmm…you never go easy on me. That's one of the things I love about you, Batman." Batman grunted quietly, another lurch coming. This was the worst one yet.

His breathing became irregular and he felt like his body was on fire.

"No…not now…can't…I have to…focus…"

He moved and punched the Joker again, knocking him down and making the clown sprawl onto the floor. Laughing again, he licked his lips.

"Well…you haven't disappointed. Tonight was just as fun as always."

"You're going back to Arkham, clown." Joker stood up and dusted off his suit, smirking at Batman.

"No, no. I don't think I will."

"It wasn't an option."

"That's where you're wrong. You won't take me to Arkham, Batty." He pulled out a watch and eyed it, grinning.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking the time. See?" He held up the watch and it read 11:56 pm.


"Anyway, I'm not going back to Arkham."

"Yeah? Well I beg to differ." Batman stood in a fighting position, ready to continue beating the man before him. Joker mirrored him, leaning forward slightly.

"Let's see you do it." Batman moved at him and Joker weaved out of the way and snatched the Bat's right arms. He locked it behind him and slammed him to the wall.

Grunting and wriggling furiously, Batman cursed silently as he realized that he was trapped. Joker smirked victoriously.

"You are really getting sloppy, Batty. I'm disappointed."

"Shut. The. Hell. Up."

"Ooh, someone's getting angry. Unfortunately, as much as I'd love to stay and play some more, my ride is almost here."


"Yup. But, uh, before I go…" He turned Batman around and slammed him to the wall. Before the Bat could respond, he felt something strange. Something that wasn't supposed to be there.

It was something warm and a little rough pressed against his lips. His eyes widened as he realized it was the lips of the clown pressed against his mouth.

"GET THE HELL AWAY!!" a voice in his head screamed.

He told himself to hate it. To get far away. To disinfect his mouth.

He told himself that his stomach was not flipping over. He told himself that his heart rate was normal, and not speeding up. He told himself that this felt disgusting, not wonderful.

He told himself to keep his mouth shut when he felt the other man's tongue stroking his lower lip seductively.

But, for whatever reason, his body was ignoring his mind.

His lips parted and he could feel Joker's tongue inside his mouth, tasting him, experimenting.

It was a while before the Joker backed off, and when he did, Bruce felt dazed. He tasted blood and…was it coffee? Blood and coffee in his mouth.

Joker smacked his lips for a moment.

"Not bad, Batty. Oh, and, thanks for the gifts." His eyes widened as Joker held up his utility belt.

Before he could yell at him, the sound of a helicopter filled his ears and he looked up in time to see a ladder fall. Joker snatched it and it carried him off.

He waved the utility belt, laughing insanely.

"Thanks again, Batman!" he yelled.

Bruce growled. That son of a bitch. Yet…when he was gone, a small smile crept onto his lips. Even though that man was a damned bastard and he had probably just made out with him to steal that utility belt…he lived to fight with him again.

Looks like the Batman was just as crazy as the Joker.

Wow…that really…sucked.

I'm sorry. But I spent, like, three hours on it last night and I didn't want to just delete it, so I decided to try finishing it. Please don't mercilessly flame me. If you hate it, please divert your attention away and I'm sorry for just wasting a chunk of your precious life.

If you actually happen to like it, reviews are nice.

This was my first attempt at a Batman/Joker oneshot. Sorry… -_-