Today was the day.

Today was the day the Joker entered Wayne Manor. (Cue ominous, dramatic music.)

It had taken him over a week, but he'd finally cracked the code to the subterranean glass elevator that launched into the estate above. The reason it took him so blasted long? Because he'd been giving the Batbrat far too much credit, as per usual. Just what, you may ask, was the illusive password to the illustrious hi-tech lift leading to the most secret chamber of one of the smartest and richest men in the entire world?

Th0m rtha.

That's right. Th0m rtha.

Absolutely ridiculous. He was expecting some sort of bizarre, twenty character, randomly generated thingymabob. Not a bloomin' portmanteau of Bats' dearly departed parentals. It was an insult.

Joker scoffed and tsked and huffed all the way up. He did it some more as the elevator finally slowed to a stop. He became positively ruffled with indignation as the door slid open and a bookshelf twirled around in front of him. He stalked angrily and in a very unimpressed fashion directly into the library where...

Oh.

...Where Batman, currently dressed as Bruce Wayne, was sitting at a small table directly facing the false bookcase, eating what looked to be a very delicious sandwich.

An elderly, balding chap with a pencil mustache stood beside Batman, carrying both a silver tray and an air of eternal boredom. "Ah. I see that Sir has decided to grace us with the dubious delight of his presence. I'll fetch another sandwich." Then he strode calmly out of the room, as if the Joker popping out of a bookcase during teatime was a perfectly ordinary occurrence.

Joker stood stupidly frozen in place, one eye wide open with the other nearly scrunched shut, mouth forming a small 'o'. Then he straightened haughtily and clasped his hands behind his back, trying desperately to appear as if this was exactly the reception he had been expecting.

"Have a seat, Joker," said Batman graciously, motioning to the chair next to him.

Joker obeyed, still slightly stupefied. "Sooo, ehm..."

"I was wondering when you'd finally crack the new password. It's been nearly a week."

Actually it had been eight days, but the Joker wasn't about to correct him.

"Maybe if it hadn't been the password of a geriatric Luddite I would have gotten it faster," he shot back disdainfully, crossing his legs and throwing an arm over the back of the chair, hand hanging inches from Bats' shoulder.

Batman flicked his eyes to the ceiling and the Joker was so close to getting that eye roll. "That's always your problem, isn't it? Overcomplicating things."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you. I know about that switch in the aquarium."

Batman looked startled. "How-"

"Your arm is always sopping wet when you come sliiiding down that absurd tube of yours."

Batman looked away and took a huge bite out of his sandwich. "Figured you'd like the tube," he muttered around half-chewed food.

"D'aww." Joker clasped his fingers under his chin. "Did mummy and daddy not take you to enough amusement parks when you were a little batling? Oh, that's right." He snapped his fingers. "They both got shot in the head before you were tall enough to ride anything but those swirling ta-heacups. Too bad." He pulled a long, sad face.

Batman glared dangerously. Mayonnaise squirted onto his $400 sweater-vest as the hand holding his sandwich suddenly clenched in anger. "Joker..." he warned.

"If I'd known about this slide fetish of yours I would have put a couple in my last Funland. Before you wrecked the place, that is. Ooh, maybe with a cozy little vat of acid at the bottom." His eyes glazed over happily as he imagined it. "Splish-splash, watch them thrash! Uheheheheee..."

"Aren't you going to ask why I allowed you to come up here," Bats interrupted.

"Oh puh-lease. I would have made it up here eventually." Batman looked unconvinced and Joker had to admit the reaction was not unfounded. "Ehm, be that as it may, my curiosity is positively peaked by your change of heart."

"Good, because I'm not going to tell you."

Joker frowned resentfully. "You really are a monster. A very poorly dressed monster."

Batman glanced down. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Besides everything? The mayo doesn't help."

Bats frowned and dabbed at the stain ineptly with a dirty napkin, smushing the goop further into the fibers.

Joker rolled his eyes and dipped a clean napkin into a water goblet before swooping in. The first thing he did was scoop up the excess and pop it into his mouth. "Mm! Miracle Whip! You can aaalways tell."

Batman stared, eyes open wide, making no move to stop the other man.

"Ca - er, clown got your tongue, Batsy?" No sense bringing that damnable Cat into this, not when he had the Bat in such a comfortable position.

Batman's eyes widened even further at the question, seemingly frozen in place. Joker shrugged and ignored him, dabbing at his firm chest with the damp napkin in a much more competent manner.

"You try getting out bloodstains, binky, and eventually condiments become a piece of cake. Whoops, almost missed a bit..."

"Ahem."

Blue and green eyes snapped to the doorway. Alfred stood with a freshly made sandwich on his tray. The butler was blatantly unable to make eye contact with either his master or the homicidal clown. The clown which Bruce had allowed to crawl halfway into his lap and was currently pawing at his chest.

"Is that for me?" Joker asked, springing to his feet and rushing over to Alfred, completely ignoring the sudden tension in the room as his bestest enemy refused to make eye contact with the old man. Weren't they a pair?

Alfred composed himself quickly. "It is."

"I take back everything I said about the service in this place!" He took a bite and promptly spat it back out all over the floor, the tray, and the butler. "Eugh! What the blazes is this?!"

"Cress. The very best money can buy. Sir."

"Take it away, Jeeves!" exclaimed the Joker, turning away with a hand to his brow. He flapped the other hand in Alfred's general direction. "Bring me a steak. Rare. Hold the veggies and carbs and whatnot. Just the meat. I want it bleeding, you understand?"

Alfred looked to Batman for confirmation. The young master made a weary gesture and the old servant's jaw tightened in anger.

Joker beamed.

"Very good, sir," said Alfred stiffly, clearly against his will. It warmed Joker's heart, it did. Guilt-centric coercion was the best.

"I'm going to change," said Batman loudly. He stood up hastily, jostling the table and making all the dishes clatter, before making a very swift and dignified escape from the room. His head poked back in for a moment. "You two behave yourselves." Then he was gone.

Awkward silence reigned, which Joker skillfully ignored.

Alfred turned to the Joker, eyes hooded in distrust veiled by forced civility. "I do wish you would leave Master Bruce out of your sadistic games," he said, as harshly as his station allowed.

"Oh, but Al-fie!" Joker threw an arm around the old Brit's shoulders, revelling in the automatic cringe. "A spat without Bats is like bread without spread, hardly delicious at all."

"If you think you can-"

"Ssteak." He placed a hand on each quivering shoulder and shoved the old man into the hallway, delighting at the subsequent crash and sound of swearing.

Joker waited a full six minutes in the empty room, grew bored and decided to take the elevator back down to the batcave.

###

"There you are, Batsy!" Joker leapt away from the computer terminal he'd been attempting to hack without success, face splitting into a semi-sincere smile. "I was wondering when-"

Batman (once again dressed as himself) walked calmly up to him and broke his nose. Joker fell to the ground and Batman broke three ribs with one well-placed kick.

"What," Joker wheezed with a painful laugh, "did I do this time?"

"You broke Alfred's collarbone," Batman snarled, angrier than the Joker had ever seen him before. For the first time in their prolonged acquaintance, the Joker felt fear of the other man. This time the anger seemed more directed, more... personal.

"I did?"

Another kick and he could feel two more ribs crack.

"I was a fool. It will never happen again."

Yet another kick, this time to the already broken ribs. The pain was excruciating, but Joker supposed he should be thankful Bats chose not to break additional bones.

"I didn't mean to. I just pushed him! Come on, Bats. I'm not used to dealing with the elderly."

Another kick. Joker decided silence may be the better strategy.

"You told me," kick, "that he's like my father," kick, "and so help me, you were right." Kick, kick, kick.

Joker coughed up blood. "I asked him to make me lunch." As if that explained everything. "Really wanted... that steak." He groaned and curled in on himself reflexively. This pain was only unbearable because, well, Batman. He'd never beat on him like this before. "Wondered what was taking so long..."

"You couldn't check on him?" A vicious kick to the head.

Joker tried to answer coherently through the concussion-induced stars. "Never... checked on anyone...before... Not... fair..."

"You checked on," kick, "me."

"Well'ats... different..."

Batman paused with his leg pulled back for the next kick. He planted it beside the other foot. Even with his rapidly fading consciousness, Joker could see indecision thrumming through Batman's body.

"Alfred is an extension of myself and should be treated as such."

Joker tried to laugh but the broken ribs just wouldn't let him. "Now... you tell me..."

Batman was still staring down at him as he passed out.

###

Joker awoke with a groan, entire body on fire. It took him three tries to heave himself off the cot. He shuffled slowly to Batman, who was once again planted at the computer terminal. Joker had already determined that he essentially lived there, off duty, so it was no great surprise.

"I break one bone and you break suh-hix of mine?" he asked loudly, incredulously. "How is that fair?"

Batman remained unfazed and completely ignored him, fiddling with a device on his desk.

"Hellooo. Batsyyy."

Silence.

"Good lord, are you sulking at me right now?"

Batman continued to ignore him and continued rewiring the sensors of whatever overpriced gizmo he was currently working on.

Joker exhaled harshly, painfully, and crossed his arms, leaning on one hip and refusing to look at the other man. He tapped his foot impatiently. "Fine. Please forgive me and allow me to kiss the hem of your prodigious cape."

Batman jerked his head up, startled, and hissed as he burned his finger on a glob of freshly melted solder.

Joker smirked and relaxed (painfully) into a more feline pose. "Don't hurt yourself on my account. How ever would I go on?"

Batman's face remained rather worryingly blank. "I... can't believe you just apologized. I must be going crazy."

"Too late for that, bumpkin, but no. I didn't apologize. Your illusion is safe and sound."

"Then I have nothing to say to you," said Batman pedantically, turning back to his task.

Joker scowled and snarled. "I'll kill that walking corpse before I apologize to the likes of you."

Batman's shoulders twitched and he set all of his tools down. His head bowed. Joker waited. Batman threw a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the table and remaining motionless. An average person would have interpreted the expression as the epitome of blankness, but Joker knew better. The face Batman just threw at him was wounded, was hurt.

OH BOTHERATION.

Joker seethed. "I'm..."

He could almost see Batman's ears prick with interest, even through the cowl.

"I'm... sss..." Garugh, he just couldn't do it. This just wasn't fair.

Batman picked up the soldering iron again, shoulders drooping imperceptibly, to anyone else. Joker didn't know what was more pathetic, Batman's actions or the response it elicited in him.

"I'm... ssss-ooorry..." Joker bit his tongue until blood spilled into his mouth, dribbling out the downturned corners, trailing down his chin.

Batman immediately swiveled in his chair, eyes latching instantly onto the blood. "Which room."

"What?" he asked stupidly, pretty brain dead at this point. Apologizing was exhausting.

"Upstairs. Which room do you want."

Joker didn't miss a beat, even in his current wounded, confused state. "The one next to yours."

Batman's eyes widened, but all he said was: "Alright." A few minutes of relatively comfortable silence passed. "I still don't understand how it wasn't obvious that you shouldn't hurt Alfred."

"Cultural differences no doubt. Heck, I killed my father."

"You did?" Batman asked quietly, throwing him a sidelong glance that looked almost... hungry. "When. Why."

"Well, maybe. Who knows? Not me. It's a nice idea though, eh."

A lengthy sigh. "Just... Shut up and let me fix your ribs."

Next chapter will be delayed because I've been SERIOUSLY DAWDLING on my primary Walking Dead story. I need to write a couple chapters of it before I can return to this I'M SORRY. Also Jokes is getting far too domesticated for my taste, so next chapter I'll probably have him bust out and idk kill a bunch of babies or something. Sooo yeah ^-^

You guys and your lovely comments! I lurv you all ;_; Batjokes forever AM I RIGHT