I'm back! Sorry about the ridiculous delay, our favorite pairing has just been riding in the back seat for awhile.

The Wayne Christmas party was the social event of the season. Every well-to-do citizen of Gotham spent countless days hunting like truffle pigs for an invite and the perfect outfit. An appearance at the seasonal soiree was an absolute must for anyone who was anyone in upper class society.

Bruce hated it.

He'd spent fifteen minutes struggling with his bowtie and the thing was about to get shredded. He'd been dreading this tired custom for days and now that the moment was at hand, he couldn't stop his fingers from trembling with anxiety.

"Master Bruce the guests have begun to arrive, I feel like it's just about time for you to put in appearance."

"Almost done Alfred, I think there's something wrong with this stupid thing…" Strong, wrinked hands batted away Bruce's own, just like when he was a child.

"You've gone and twisted it; you're no good with tiny, detailed operations – botched stitches, mangled bowties. Some things you should really just leave to me."

"Sorry old man, you know the holidays make me jumpy."

"I remember. Let's just get it over with, shall we? I think the governor has already started drinking and I just know he'll have sherry all over the couch if I don't watch him."

Bruce smiled and followed his butler out the door.

Every conversation was the same, empty and lifeless. Where would he be spending Christmas? How was business this quarter, who was he seeing…blah blah blah. Boring.

He sipped his second glass of champagne and stared out the vast window, nodding at appropriate intervals. It wouldn't do for the Mayor to be ignored.

He knew why he felt so agitated and detached. The stupid clown.

No word from the criminal in two weeks. He'd kept his promise and laid low, of course but that wasn't enough. He had an amazing propensity to get himself in trouble and Bruce felt better if he was able to keep tabs on his lunatic lover.

Their last tryst had been brief and unsatisfying thanks to an ill-timed interruption by the penthouse maids. He was grateful the Joker had worn a wig that day, it kept an awkward moment from being a horrendously awkward moment.

Wayne was jostled into the present when someone knocked into him and sloshed Champagne on his Valentino jacket. The woman apologized profusely, patting him unnecessarily in areas where she had not spilled anything. He accepted her apologies and politely excused himself to change, indicating to Alfred that he wasn't just trying to sneak away. The answering nod and glance looked almost smug and sneaky…what on earth was that old butler up to.

As he approached his bedroom the sound of glass breaking echoed in the empty hallway. Bruce immediately went into Bat-mode, flattening himself against the wall and creeping the distance to his door, extremely wary of what on earth might be in there. If it was Peterson and his mistress in there again there would be hell to pay.

The door was slightly ajar so it was almost silent as he pushed it a few more inches. The sight before him was the once he most wanted and least expected. Joker was kneeling on the floor next to a broken vase, muttering to himself and pushing around the shattered pieces.

"Broken broken broken. Bats is going to be aggravated, always breaking things…all you ever do, break and shatter and burn and destroy everything. But not this. Can't break this, it's all…all that matters. Rich boy won't notice, he's sooooo busy at his fancy party, chatting and boozing with the Gotham elite, no time for little ole' me."

The glint of moonlight revealed spatters of blood pooling around the glass, making an even bigger mess as the maniac picked up the shards with his bare hands, slicing tiny rivets across his palm and fingers.

The younger man crept quietly toward his lover, grateful for the background noise of the party.

Knowing he'd probably get stabbed for it, he silently knelt behind him and reached around to seize the trembling, bloody hands.

"I didn't like that thing anyways"

Surprise covered the painted face as he whirled to face the sneaky intruder, slipping his wrists free in an instant.

"And you think I'm crazy, you're the one who sneaks around in his own house in the dark."

"I don't know why or how you're here but I don't care. I'm just glad you are." The millionaire smiled, running his fingers down the smeared white cheek.

He could tell that tonight was going to be one of those needy nights, when there was no talking because words were obsolete. All there was between them was desire and bare need.

Bruce stood and closed the door, tugging off his wretched bowtie on the way. The Joker rose to his feet and began slipping off his jacket, smearing blood into the purple fabric. Wayne noticed this and shook his head, crooking his finger in the direction of the large bathroom.

The criminal hesitantly paced towards the ornately tiled room, questions and confusion in his eyes. Bats had never made him shower before.

Once this door too was securely locked behind them, Bruce began removing the dingy purple suit, dragging his fingers lovingly across every jagged scar.

"Brucey I'm not really a rubber duckies and bubbles kinda guy…"

He was quickly shushed with a finger, a finger he greedily popped into his mouth, slowly suckling around the calloused digit.

It only took minutes to fill the giant marble tub with hot water but longer than that to cajole the unwilling man into it.

Finally, after a brief struggle with a faulty cufflink, they were both seated in the steamy water, facing each other.

After pausing a moment to give time for objections, Bruce dragged a soapy hand through the matted green locks, slowly rubbing the grime from the once-bright curls. Then, slower and much more gently, he smoothed a soft cloth across the slightly resentful face, taking great care not to scratch the scars or get soap in his eyes.

After twenty minutes and an awful lot of soap the Joker was just an ordinary man, wet brown curls hanging against his pale skin. Beautiful.

Bruce knew he might not get a chance to see this again, to see this deeply into his flamboyant lover.

J used Bruce's stunned observation of his shiny new physique as an opportunity to climb into his lap, comfortably settling his knees on either side of the tanned buttocks that awaited him.

The Batman leaned back against the marble, granting further access to his neck and heaving chest, sighing contentedly as his earlobe was sucked into a warm, teasing mouth.

Soon their naughty bits were grinding together in the lukewarm water, setting them both on a frenzied exploration of the other's lithe body. The sight of normal, almost sincere brown eyes staring out at him without the menacing black make-up was maddening to Bruce, who yanked them both from the water, dragging a slippy, slidey Joker across the tile towards the bedroom.

After more frantic kissing and rubbing, the Joker muttered something else about ducks. Wayne rolled his eyes and asked him to repeat his statement.

"I said I want you to fuck me, Bruce."

Pausing to make sure he heard right, he smiled broadly and leaned down to kiss the lips that looked so pale with out their customary red smear, pulling the strong body tightly against his own.

"Are you sure?"

He bit his lip and nodded, reaching between their bodies to place Bruce right where he wanted him.

They both gasped as their bodies molded together, each of them push and pulling and begging for more.

Later, as they lay there spent and soaking wet from sweat and bath water (ruining yet another pair of expensive sheets) Bruce smiled at his sleeping lover, knowing that no one had ever seen this man like he had. He felt possessive and utterly terrified that he'd lose this.

He knew it was inevitable; you can't hold smoke in your hand forever.

But for now, just for now...he belonged to Bruce.