TITLE: CURIOUS OBSESSION

SUMMARY:

There was one rule that the Clown Prince, aka the King of Gotham's criminal underworld, made sure everyone knew.

The Batman was his.

WARNING: SLASH

RELATIONSHIP(S): Batman/Joker A.K.A Bruce Wayne/Joker

NOTE: I envisioned Christian Bale's Dark Knight and Heath Ledger's Joker. I suppose you could imagine it as Affleck's Batman and Leto's Joker but... I wouldn't recommend it. Also, the Joker might seem a bit... sane (at times).

The atmosphere was stifling.

The very air was charged with heart-pumping adrenaline and bone-chilling terror. The crowd of onlookers, standing on the sidewalks on either side of the road, were frozen as if they were a part of a portrait.

It was the type of moment in which your logical part of the brain is screaming, 'GO GO GO GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE MOVE IF YOU WANNA LIVE GO!' At the same time, you are unable to move your legs, standing frozen and watching, with a sickening fascination, as everything happens like a riveting train wreck.

The people of Gotham had started screaming and running for their lives when the Clown Prince of Gotham had walked, carefree, onto the street, twirling an undeniably sharp knife, his minions following behind him. Within minutes, the space around the Joker had become empty, three cars had crashed when he had decided to stand in the middle of the road. Other cars stood abandoned as the owners, on seeing the cackling criminal, fled for their lives.

In a few more minutes, news vans had arrived on scene and the situation was being telecast live from the roofs of the buildings on either side of the road.

The Joker had just received an ice cream cone from one of his minions, who had terrorised the shop owner, and was threatening the few people who had had the misfortune of getting caught by a minion.

The people who were running stopped as the roar of the Batmobile sounded through the air.

Joker raised his head and gave a shrill, delighted giggle. As the Batman stepped on to the street, the dusk barely illuminating him, he looked like Christmas had come early.

The crowd of onlookers were unable to help themselves from being rooted to their spots, against their better judgement, and watching the interaction between Gotham's very own Dark Knight and the King of Gotham's criminal underworld.

They watched as the Joker taunted the Batman, who appeared to be hurt, judging by the way he walked gingerly.

They watched as Batman almost subdued the Joker, before Joker shouted a command. The minions who, until then did nothing but watch, surged forward to engage the vigilante in combat.

They watched as the Joker moved away, laughing still, with some of his men joining him to stand as his bodyguards.

They watched as a lucky blow caught the Batman off-guard.

They watched as he stumbled.

They watched, helplessness filling them, as two of the clown's cronies began attacking the Batman with sudden viciousness, sensing his weakness, while the rest of them moved away while glancing at the unsteady vigilante and their boss.

They watched, crying out in horror, as Batman finally fell, unmoving after he touched the ground.

They watched as the Joker's laughter stopped, leaving a ringing silence in it's wake.

Bruce Wayne knew that he shouldn't have gone out to face the Joker.

He was so very tired and ached in places he didn't know existed. The past week had been absolute hell for him. All the criminals had decided to become active in the same week and the Batman was but one guy. He had pushed himself till he was ready to drop.

Bruce had bruising all over his torso, a couple of cracked ribs and one definitely broken rib. When the news stations had telecast the Joker terrorising the streets and the people, Alfred had warned him that he was in no shape to take on a bunch of insane clowns.

But Bruce, being the headstrong, stubborn idiot that he was, had decided to go and face the Joker anyway.

And that's how he ended up fighting with a bunch of mad men in clown masks while Joker tried to make his getaway. The Joker's men appeared to be a bit well-trained than the normal morons he surrounded himself with. Any other day, Batman would have appreciated the workout. But that day, in his tired daze, he made a mistake. He stumbled.

That moment of weakness didn't go unnoticed as he was attacked with even more vigour and rage. He could have stood against them, for atleast some more time, if one of them hadn't gotten a lucky hit right at his broken rib. The wave of pain and dizziness that washed over him sealed the deal.

As darkness overtook his consciousness, he hoped that Joker would't try to unmask him.

"Batman's down! I repeat, Batman's down!"

Jim Gordon gritted his teeth as fear clenched his heart in an unforgiving grip, and floored the accelerator.

He hoped the police wouldn't be too late.

The Joker was laughing as he backed away, all the while watching his boys fighting against his Bat. He licked his bleeding lip where the Bat had punched him.

Even as he watched, his face a mask of eagerness and delight (it made him happy to watch his Bat fight, all his movements calculated, a controlled grace defining his every action), the Joker was frowning inside.

Something wasn't right. His Bat wasn't behaving as he usually did. It appeared as though he was... injured.

The Joker was furious that someone had dared to hurt his Batman. Because that was what he was, his. The Joker had stated, in no uncertain terms, to the entirety of the underworld, that the Batman was his.

He narrowed his eyes. Looks like he'll be hunting down some disrespectful people who couldn't follow simple rules.

The Joker was brought out of his thoughts when one of his men called out, "Boss!"

The Joker was still giggling when the Batman stood unsteadily. He chuckled when his men, other than the two whom he had recruited recently, purely because they sought vengeance against Batman, moved back from the vigilante, recognising the dark and dangerous look in their boss' eyes.

But then, Batman, his Bat, fell.

And he didn't get up.

Joker stood there, laughter cut off, waiting (hoping) to see the Dark Knight get up. He didn't.

The sound of the police sirens drifted towards them. Joker paid them no mind.

Before anyone realised what was happening, Joker stalked over to the two morons who were still kicking at the fallen vigilante. Grabbing them both by the necks, he threw them away from their target.

Their sounds of protest were cut off as two knives accurately found their place on their foreheads. With a choked grunt, they fell down, dead before they hit the ground.

The sirens were louder. It appeared as though the police had overcome the obstacles he had placed on their way. No matter, he could always play with them another day.

He knelt down next to his sworn enemy's head, whispering, "Batsy, Batsy, Batsy..."

The Joker could see the Batman's eyes flickering under his eyelids. He didn't touch him, no matter how much he wanted to, he craved to.

"Batsy," Joker called out, loudly. "Come on, Batsy, time to wake up!"

The Batman groaned and shifted. But slowly, he opened his eyes, looking dazed and out of sorts. As his eyes focussed, Joker made a show of reaching for his mask. His wrist was caught in an unrelenting grip and he was pushed away.

The Joker cackled as he got up, dusting his pants. The Batman got up shakily, on unsteady feet.

"See you later, Batsy!" The Joker said, laughing gleefully. He dodged as the vigilante tried to grab him.

"We'll have to play some other time," he said, pouting with disappointment.

The Batman growled. It was obvious that the Bat wanted to go after the Joker, but he had almost no energy and also, the police were almost upon them.

"Get some sleep, Batsy," Joker said, winking at him and blowing a kiss.

In half a minute, both the Joker, along with his minions, and the Batman had vanished, and even the TV cameras couldn't find them.

Jim Gordon breathed an unobtrusive sigh of relief as they found no signs of the Batman. He glanced at the two dead bodies on the road, with knives sticking out of their heads, and made a note to watch the full news. He wondered what they had done to earn the ire of the Joker.

Bruce collapsed on a bed Alfred had installed in the Bat-cave, as Alfred tended to his wounds, giving him a disapproving look once every few minutes.

As he allowed sleep to overcome him, he remembered Joker's eyes, burning with the light of insanity. His muddled brain thought he had detected a hint of concern and something else, in addition to the insanity.

But, when awake, Bruce dismissed it, chalking it up to his mind playing tricks.

The Joker wiped the blood from his knives and looked down at his purple suit. He licked his lips, tasting blood and paint, and mourned the loss of another suit. The bloodstains would never come out.

Glancing at the bodies littering the warehouse floor, he laughed in delight.

Now, the whole underworld will know that the Clown Prince meant business when he said that the Batman was his.

A/N: I love the trope of villains coming to the aid of heroes. Even though this story might not conform to the exact trope, I had to write a possessive Joker. Sorry, couldn't help it.

I watched Suicide Squad, and Leto is amazing as the Joker. But, somehow, Ledger is the only Joker for me (no offense to Leto and his fans). I prefer Leto to be sane, without manic laughter, and wearing a suit (yum!) or a casual outfit (double yum!).

Drop me a comment or PM me!

Oh my god, I canNOT BELIEVE I WROTE A BAT/JOKER FIC!