The Joker woke up with morning breath and a hangover. But other than that, he was surprisingly comfortable. Very comfortable. As if he had fallen asleep in a cloud made of the softest things imaginable, like whipped yogurt and dead kittens.

He gave a long, spine popping stretch and fell back onto the heavenly bed. The sun was bright enough that he had to open his eyes slowly to appease the drunk fuzzies pounding in his skull. Once he had them open, he saw that he was in one of the nicest rooms he had ever seen.

The only reason it wasn't the nicest room was because he had seen Bruce's room.

The Joker let out a lazy grin as memories of last night began to filter into his conscious. His smile only dimmed when he realized he had passed out before anything really fun could happen. But maybe that was for the best. He was still trying to take things sloooow with his Batsy.

But as much as he was enjoying the hospitality, The Joker decided he'd better leave while he still could. The room didn't agree with that though, and it spun dangerously when he stood. That did little to deter The Joker though. He'd had so many trips, hangovers, and hallucinations that it was almost more disturbing when he was sober.

The door wasn't locked, another pleasant surprise. Perhaps Bruce had just forgot or maybe he was hoping the madman would see himself out. Which The Joker fully intended to do, but as usual, his mind got sidetracked, and he ended up in his will-be-whether-he-consents-or-not lover's room.

This is why he couldn't have plans.

Luckily for him, the billionaire was sound asleep in his bed. Visions of chloroform and handcuffs danced in his head, but The Joker decided not to push his luck. He just wanted to check up on his love, and he was delighted to see that Bruce looked even worse off than he did. Maybe he had been missi—

The Joker's mind abruptly switched tracks to a new train of thought as something occurred to him. He raised a tentative hand to his face.

Well, maybe Bruce didn't look worse after all, because fuck it all—he wasn't wearing his facepaint! Batman had probably even seen his real face last night, if not at the bar, then at least when he was passed out.

The Joker bit back a curse and wondered if he needed to find a knife and stab Bruce some. His eyes swept across the room, searching for anything sharp, but it was something else completely that caught his attention.

A cellphone, laying on the nightstand next to the bed.

The Joker stalked over to the nightstand and grabbed the phone. If Bruce had dared to take pictures, he might have to make his love bleed a bit ahead of time. But the phone was password protected and needed a four digit number to get in.

The year of his birth. Access Denied.

His birthday. Access Denied.

The year of...fuck, how old was Alfred, anyway? Would that year even start with 19 or would it be 18? Skip it for now.

His mother's birthday. Access Denied.

His father's birthday. Access Denied.

Strange combination of the two. Access Denied.

Rachael's birthday...The Joker hesitated. If this worked, promise or no, the pug faced bitch died...Access Denied.

The Joker paced back and forth beside an oblivious Bruce, trying to think of other common numbers that came in four digits. Historical dates? Meh. Ages maybe? But that was only two digits.

Unless it was two people.

He entered the ages Bruce's parents had been when they died. Access Denied. Again, but this time with the mother first. Access Denied. Ages they would be if they were alive today?

Access Granted.

Well shit, that was depressing. Even The Joker frowned for a moment at that. Bruce really needed a therapist. Even the irony of that thought didn't cheer him up. He scrolled through the menu until he reached the photo album which had...

Nothing. Goddamn, Bruce had to be the most depressing person he'd ever met. It was a good thing he had shown up in the billionaire's life when he did, otherwise the vigilante would probably be catatonic by now.

In fact, he should spruce up his photo album a bit. After all, what type of person didn't have pictures on their phone? Depressing people, that's who.

Some unzipping and a few snap shots later, and Bruce's photo album was much better. Now about his contacts...Hate, hate, hate, loathe.

The Joker was tempted to reset the password to something a bit more cheerful, like 666, but that was only three digits. Then he thought about using his own birthday, but it wasn't like he remembered when that was, and Bruce certainly wouldn't know it anyway, so he ended up leaving it the same.

He placed the phone back on the nightstand, in exactly the same position as it had been. He gave Bruce one last longingly psychotic gaze, but he knew better than to try to touch the other man, no matter how exhausted he seemed. Instead, he just sighed and walked out the bedroom door.

Straight into Alfred.

They both jumped aside like they had each met a leper, although Alfred somehow managed to perfectly balance the breakfast tray the entire time.

"Goooood morning. Ah-ah, don't worry, I'll uh...see myself out." The Joker tutted. Then with a wink, a giggle, and a whirl, he was out the hall and down the stairs.

"Alfred...?" A groggy voice called from inside the bedroom.

Alfred straightened the tray first, then his back, and stepped into the room. "Here, Master Wayne."

"Please tell me I didn't really bring...him...home last night." Bruce muttered, still half buried beneath covers.

"You did not bring home an unconscious criminal last night. You did not put him in the spare guest room that has been designated as 'his.' He certainly did not just exit your room mere moments before." Alfred dutifully replied.

Bruce sat up as if electrocuted and immediately regretted it as the room spun. "He was here?!"

Alfred sighed and set the tray on the nightstand. "Yes, Master Wayne. But please, lay back down. You've been overworking yourself for weeks now, hardly even eating, no sleep at all...you're in no condition to chase after him this morning."

"I...fuck." Bruce finally growled, flopping back against the pillows. He knew his friend was right, but it only made him feel worse.

The moment of relative silence was cut off when his phone rang with the ringtone that had come with the phone that he had never bothered to change. Bruce winced and didn't move.

"Who is it, Alfred?" He asked.

"I don't know, sir."

"Is the number blocked, or is it one of my contacts?" Bruce asked, trying to tamper down his irritation.

"Well the name of the contact is 'pug faced bitch' but the picture is that of an erect penis...sir." Alfred replied.

"GODDAMN HIM!"

A/N: So perhaps this isn't truly "sexting." More like, "inappropriate picture taking" since The Joker didn't technically text the picture to Bruce. But I think it was close enough.

Last time I asked for prompt suggestions, and I actually got a few replies! What good little minions. But this is 101 ways to annoy Batman, so I can always use more. Tell me your ideas, what you would like to see, or even challenge me, and I'll post a list of the next ten prompts I'll be working with next Friday.