An Offer He Couldn't Refuse
A/N: Nolanverse, but I'm incorporating Harley Quinn. This will contain Batman/Joker SLASH, so if you don't like slash or this pairing, then don't read.
Disclaimer: really? Characters belong to DC, Kane, Nolan, etc. No copyright infringement is intended—this is just for shits and giggles, and the entertainment of fellow slashfans.
Chapter One: The Proposition
Batman knew something wasn't right when he saw the batsignal lighting up the Gotham skyline—the cops still thought he was a murderer, and would never ask for his help this blatantly. He snuck up to the roof of the MCU anyway, sticking to the shadows as he silently approached the modified searchlight. Peering around a corner, he saw someone casually leaning against the side of the batsignal—one of the last people he wanted to see right now.
And, naturally, the bastard was standing in the one spot on the entire roof where Batman couldn't sneak up on him. He was wearing his usual makeup and purple trench coat, its pockets probably stuffed full of knives. The Joker was looking around in the darkness, tapping a finger impatiently and licking at his scars.
Trying to suppress his apprehension about whatever kind of twisted games and mindfuckery were about to ensue, Batman stepped into view.
Joker's eyes immediately riveted to him.
"Well, it's about fucking time," Joker snapped, stepping away from the searchlight and towards his—heh—better half. A half-second later the irritation evaporated and Joker burst into laughter.
Batman remained silent, crossing his arms in a very We Are Not Amused manner.
A few seconds later, Joker regained his composure, still chuckling, and said, "It is, though—if you say yes." He licked his lips, raising his eyebrows at the vigilante.
"What are you talking about?" Batman growled.
"I've got a, uh, proposition for ya—"
"I don't negotiate with terrorists."
"That's too bad," Joker said, licking his scars, "I guess I'll just tell Harley to kill all the hostages—" he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dramatically dialed a number. He started to bring the phone to his ear but a batarang shot out and sliced it in half.
Joker watched the broken pieces clatter to the ground, then glared at Batman and irritably started, "Ya know—"
"What hostages?" Batman interrupted.
"Well I had a video in there," he gestured vaguely at the broken phone, "but I guess now you'll just have to take my word for it—a bus full of kids, uh, disappeared today during a field trip."
Batman produced his own cell phone and instructed, "Give me the memory card."
"Oh, aren't we clever," Joker mocked, digging the card out of the ruined device.
Batman held out his hand silently. The Joker stepped forward, placing the tiny card in Batman's gloved hand and letting his own hand linger longer than necessary, his thumb stroking along Batman's. Batman tensed and pulled away, staring suspiciously at the Joker, who just smirked.
Batman switched out the memory cards and pulled up the video—it was short and choppy, but it showed Harley behind the wheel of a school bus, wearing a gas mask and waving childishly. Then a purple-gloved hand entered the frame and tossed a smoking canister into the bus—Batman really hoped that was just sleeping gas. A familiar but slightly distorted laugh erupted as the children panicked and quickly lost consciousness. The bus started up, and the radio blared a few lines of Alice Cooper's School's Out, then the video ended.
"Where are they?" Batman growled.
"Oh, they're safe—for now."
Knowing he would probably regret it, Batman asked, "What do you want?"
Joker licked his scars. "Same thing I always do—you."
Batman stared. Surely he didn't mean—
"The deal is: for every night you spend with me and Harley, I'll release a hostage, and I won't even torture 'em. How's that sound?"
"What exactly are you asking for?" Batman asked, hating himself for it.
Joker chuckled. "You a little slow tonight, Bats? I want you and me and Harley to have a three-way. Do ya need me to draw you a picture?"
"You're serious?" Batman asked incredulously.
"I'm never serious…but yeah."
Batman stared at his nemesis, his mind infuriatingly numb. "If I agree—"
"I'll release one kid every time."
"How many are there?"
Joker shrugged. "I didn't count 'em."
"Joker," he growled.
"You saw, a bus-full. And not a short bus, either."
Batman sighed. "And if I refuse?"
"I kill one every day, 'til I run out or you change your mind."
He'd figured as much. He looked away from the Joker's disturbingly eager expression as he tried to find some way out of this—but he knew there really wasn't one. He couldn't refuse, knowing that children would die as a result.
Batman sighed—this had Disaster and Years of Therapy written all over it.
"Alright," he finally said. "I'll do it."
"Goody," Joker grinned. "Let's go!"
"What—right now?" He'd hoped he would at least have some time to try to get used to the idea of having a three-way with his archenemy. Or to figure out where the kids were hidden, and avoid it altogether.
"Yeah, where's that batmobile of yours?"
"It's not called that," he grumbled, but he led the Joker to where he'd hidden the tumbler anyway. He opened the door, growling, "Don't touch anything."
Joker held up his hands in a show of mock-innocence and climbed in, still smiling, thinking to himself, this is gonna be fun!