#batjokesweek

“Hey Bruce.” Dick leaned against a clutter free area next to the Bat Computer. “So Damian told me that he thought something was bothering you…” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with having to be the one to do this. He got Bruce’s attention, at least, even if he wasn’t looking at him directly. “Wanna talk about it?”

Bruce sighed, running his hand through his hair before pushing away from the computer. “I proposed.”

Dick burst into a smile. “What did he say?”

He tapped the desk “That’s the problem. He didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe you should talk to him about it again.” Dick straightened up. “Did you make it clear that you were proposing? Like, candlelit dinner, flowers, etc.?”

Electric blue eyes flicked up, brows furrowed. “Do you really think that he’d want that?”

“Out of all the melodramatic men I know, and I know a lot, he’d want it the most,” Dick assured. “How did you ask that he didn’t respond, anyway?”

Bruce only sighed. “It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t good enough.”

—-

It had actually been in their bed. The moonlight had been streaming in through the glass windows, making the Joker’s skin glimmer. He looked beautiful, like he did every night.

Like he usually did, Bruce had contemplated anything he could say. One arm was wrapped around his waist, his back to Bruce’s chest.

“Love?”

The Joker hummed in response. He sounded tired but he’d probably be awake for a while still, staring out onto the balcony.

Bruce propped himself up onto his elbow. “Would you marry me, if I asked?”

—

He probably shouldn’t be smiling as much as he was when Bruce pushed his chair in. He pressed a kiss to his cheek before taking his seat across from him.

“How are you doing today, love?” Bruce asked as he poured them each a glass of the Joker’s favorite rose wine.

He was trying so hard not to laugh. It was just so amusing to have Bruce playing it up like this, practically in his playboy persona, but just enough of it for him to notice.

“I’m… Peachy,” he said, throwing in a smile for good measure. “What about you, darling?”

Bruce rubbed his thumb on the base of the wine glass. It was an unconscious nervous habit that the Joker had noticed over the years. At the same time, his eyes were a little bit steely… It felt like he was getting the best of all three of Bruce’s personas tonight.

The appetizer was a pleasant summer salad with locally grown fruit tossed in. He wished he hadn’t taken his mess because he could feel himself getting tired and the alcohol wasn’t helping.

They were actually at a restaurant tonight (although it was empty, implying that Bruce had bought it out for the night), which curbed the Joker’s usual banter even more. He could tell that Bruce was trying, and usually he’d be trying too (if he wasn’t mad, that is) but he was so tired.

Unfiltered, his chin in his hand, he muttered, “You’re so beautiful when you’re angry.”

Bruce paused in lifting the wine glass to his mouth. “Excuse me?”

He looked down at the place setting that he had arranged again after the appetizer. “Because I didn’t answer you the other night. I mean, why else would you be doing this? You’re angry, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “I’m not mad, not in the slightest. Dick thought that maybe you thought I was joking or something.”

“To be honest, Brucie, I thought that you were. Why would you want to…” He sighed. “Why on Earth would you want to marry me?”

He got out of his seat and kneeled in front of him, taking both of the Joker’s scared hands into his own. “I love you, with all of my heart, do you understand that? You’re my other half, love. You make me whole.” His hands slid up thin arms, settling on pale cheeks before leaning up and kissing him. “I’d like nothing more than for everyone else to see that, too.”

The Joker tilted his head, leaning into one of Bruce’s palms. “I think we both know that we can’t do that.”

Bruce but the inside of his lip. Maybe he did know that, but it wasn’t going to stop him from getting the marriage license. Wasn’t going to stop him from making it official, that they were truly family. “Love…”

“I do want to be with you. Until the end of my days, Bruce.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, didn’t want to scare him off, just wiped away tears that were starting to well up. But please, say yes.

He leaned down, kissing Bruce. He stood up, wrapping his arms around the other. “A million times yes, Batsy,” he whispered when they pulled apart. He rested his hand on one of Bruce’s cheek, admiring his fiancé’s features even though they were already burned into his memory.

On their first visit, the psychiatrist told them to make themselves comfortable… he took this as an open invitation to sprawl himself out on the couch (and, subsequently, Bruce) how ever he saw fit. Maybe it was the whole ‘deprived of everything that once made him him’ thing that made Bruce just let him be.

He didn’t like talking to the woman, since she reminded him too much of Harley. He’d take his meds before they would go so that he’d be sleepy and Bruce wouldn’t make him talk, though later on he’d ask him the same questions as she would.

Oh, he did love it when Bruce put a hand in between his shoulders though. His eyes closed and he hummed softly.

"John? How are you feeling today?" He detested being called John. It reminded him of Crane, made his hands itch.

"Tired," he muttered after a moment. "I would like to go home."

Bruce pressed down, tried to be comforting without words... It didn't really work. They both knew that they had to go to 'couple's counseling' once a week, but it was really just hiding (the improved) Arkham's psychiatrist doing their weekly report.

He stretched out a little bit before sitting up. Something about people trying to deceive him always breathed a breath of fresh air into him. "Do you really want to know how I feel?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce shift. His hand had fallen away and was now resting on his own thigh. The psychiatrist hesitated before nodding. "Of course. We're all friends here, aren't we?"

"I hate my life. I feel like it was drained of color. Slowly, I'm losing color while everyone else keeps moving. The heroes keep saving, the villains keep killing. Was I ever important? To anyone? I thought that I was a supporting column, someone who couldn't be removed, but look. My spot was quickly filled in with another person. I'm nothing.

"Don't get me wrong. I love it at the Wayne manor. I love Bruce and I love the kids, and maybe I'm starting to feel like I have a family. Maybe I had that once with Harley, I can't remember." He took a deep breath and looked over at Bruce, feeling like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs. "I miss me."

---

Bruce had their dinner brought up to the bedroom. He wasn't afraid to admit that he was worried about his boyfriend. It hadn't even been two years since they had started this reform, and in that time, the Joker had given up everything. He didn't even have any freedom. Bruce had told himself that this was all for the best, that he wanted to help him because he loved him--and it had grown from twisted love not something resembling normal some how.

He sat on the bed next to him, reaching out to run his hair through dirty blond curls. He had never known the Joker with such curly hair before.

Maybe he should have noticed that. Questioned it. But he hadn't.

He wrapped his arms around him, pulling him up. "You should really eat."

"I should." White hands covered wrapped around Bruce's wrists, a thumb rubbing over the inside of each.

He sighed before nuzzling his neck. "What can I do?"

The Joker was silent before he looked up at Bruce, meeting his bright blue eyes. "We could play a game."

"Oh?"

He turned around, straddling Bruce, thin fingers already working on undoing his tie. "We could. And it could be nice, fast, and rough, like it used to be."

The Joker grabbed the lube from the nightstand and handed it to him. "Come on, Batsy. I know you wanna play."

He undid all of the buttons, pushing Bruce's shirt off of his shoulders. He, himself, was already bare chested, only a pair of Bruce's sweatpants resting loosely on his hips.

He sat there, waiting for Bruce to do something. Come on, come on.

He was not disappointed.

---

He sat in Bruce's lap, a blanket wrapped around their legs. The soup that Alfred had made was cold by now, but the bread was still soft. He didn't really care, since he was surrounded by Bruce and his warmth.

"I love you," Bruce reminded him, placing his hands on the Joker's stomach, kissing his neck.