Summary: Joker makes sweet music to his Bat…and finds he doesn't like ALL green things.

Short story is short…but one of my favorite to write! This was the first one I did write actually. And remember, these are unrelated!

Disclaimer is on the now second 'chapter'. Oh, and I realize a few of the words in the lyrics is wrong, but that's what it sounded like to me when I was struck with my inspiration so I kept the incorrect version for this fic.

Rated T for violence and mature content. This is the Joker…

What a curious life we have found here tonight
There is music that sounds from the street
There are lights in the clouds
And his ghost all around
Hear the voice as it's rolling and ringing through me
Soft and sweet
How the notes all bend and reach above the trees, trees

The night sky blinks and winks with flashes of sudden light as the sounds of automatic weaponry explode in a frenzy of new cords. Anyone who cannot see the opera of the moment has to be mad. It is almost the most beautiful thing in all of creation. And all it had taken was one child plopped into local gang territory and a hushed tip-off to the police of a kidnapping.

Joker ponders the bizarre experience of calling in his own crime to the police and giggles for minutes until he nearly tips himself backwards from his already precarious perch. He sits comfortably in an old lawn chair up on one of the higher fire-escapes watching the orchestra of weaponry and slaughter, long legs propped gracefully up on the railing at an angle so he can watch the show in perfect comfort. The dead body from within the old apartment he has taken up hasn't even started stinking yet.

A pause in the music of death gives the Prince a chance to glance skywards carelessly as if he doesn't want anyone to see him gazing towards the clouds. Like it is a sign of weakness, or like he is checking the time for a particularly late date that one still has hope for showing up. A snort escapes from the Clown's mouth at that particular thought before he is able to cover the mistake with his gloved hands. It wouldn't be any fun if the blue coats spotted him now.

The cracking and popping of the firearms soon start back with a vengeance, sending the more obstinate birds that have yet to flee soaring into the sky from the trees in the park just a block away. The percussion of the moment mixes deliciously with the voices of agony that are becoming clearer to hear in the fray. Different voices are starting to mingle, with others gaining strength or falling out as their final breaths begin to leave their bodies. The Joker's face takes on a serene expression as he gazes up again into the sooty clouds that cover the moon, listening to the choir confirm his convictions below him in the most musical way.

Then he sees it and his heart-rate quickly doubles, then triples in pace.

Taking a quick, unconscious swipe of his tongue over his ruby lips, the Harlequin begins ruthlessly scanning the tops of buildings, windows, and streets below; orchestra completely forgotten and unheard. The flashing lights of the guns only seem to be an annoyance as his sharp green eyes scan every dark place within visual range; the bat signal ironically being the only trustworthy source of illumination. He wouldn't want to be rude and miss the appearance of the guest of honor.

The Joker hasn't survived so long on only luck. He ignores a stray bullet that whizzes by his head as he leans forward for a better view of the surrounding area before huffing and glancing down in annoyance for just a moment at the floor of his balcony. A shadow moves in the glass at his feet that he had smashed on an instinctual whim earlier that evening.

The Batman.

Above him. Behind him.

About to tackle him to the ground and (try to) beat the living shit out of him.

Excitement threatens to overwhelm the Prince as he palms a blade from his sleeve. Heat and arousal pool into areas of his body that he has vehemently been able to ignore for as long as he can remember at the thrill of having his other half soon upon him. He hopes briefly that the Batman knows this is all for him. Always for him.

He leans back again, gracefully folding his arms together and propping his legs back up onto the railing. He fights with himself to not look over when a rustling flutter jolts the metal area to his left near the stairs, blocking the most effortless means of escape. Like he would try to escape now.

"Joker."

And that is all he can take.

The sound of his name from that growling voice is like a whisper compared to the lights and sounds coming from all around them. No one on this ball will ever hear the sound that was just uttered from the Batman's lips. No one except himself and the man who uttered it. The knowledge of that is just so…personal. This singular entity now sharing a perch with him, and who shares so many other things with only himself, has now just given him one more thing that will only be between the two of them. Two halves of a whole.

Loud peals of laughter explode from the Clown as he accepts his new gift from his solemn counterpart. His other half. Even when he finally turns his head towards the caped crusader several moments later, tears are running down his cheeks from the mirth and ecstasy of that one tiny aspect of this whole god-forsaken rock.

He is still laughing when Batsy moves closer in a similar fashion to a person approaching a large wild animal that is ready to bite. The caped man's arms are out in a defensive posture as he steps closer to the laughing man. Really? Does he really think it's going to be that easy? Joker laughs a little harder as he carelessly lashes out at the Bat with his previously forgotten knife. In proper poetic fashion, the blade sticks between the plates and eases into the skin of his enemy's forearm like butter.

The hiss that forces its way between Batman's clenched teeth has the Joker out of his seat and breathing it into his own body. He steels a moment to look at the delectable pain shining in those crystal blue eyes; it darkens the hue. He wonders if other intense sensations darken the color of those eyes.

The knife is now protruding from the Bat's arm, and the Joker finally looks down at his handy work; another mark will be left on that mysterious body. By now there has to be scars, lesions, and bruises riddling that body; marked as his own. He wonders how the man explains away those marks to his lovers or family…or both.

No.

He cannot think about it. No one knows this man like he does. No one. No one has the right. He eyes the knife again, still jammed into the skin of his counterpart. That knife has no right, either. The Batman hasn't moved much between trying to decide how to get the knife out without possibly bleeding out and making sure the Joker doesn't add another. This doesn't cross the psychopath's mind as he lunges towards the offensive weapon trying to take his place in the mysterious man's soul.

All the Harlequin can do is let off a blood curdling scream before violently grasping the handle and heaving it out, all three inches, and grasping it with both hands. He's still screaming when he notices all of the blood still clinging to it, and pops his tongue out to lick the crimson plasma away, cutting his tongue and adding more. It only takes a moment to realize that his tongue will not clean the blade of its offensive share of his Bat, so his grasps each side and snaps the flimsy metal in half and throws it to the floor of his perch.

His enemy broken, he takes a few heaving breaths before he breaks out into another round of victorious chortles. The Prince stomps on the pieces just to show it who's boss while the laughter continues and one palm drips blood onto the glass below his feet. It isn't until the bleeding stops that he realizes the music is gone, and looks down into the street he was previously watching. All eyes are upon him, staring in varying degrees of surprise and fear.

He lets his gaze slip into the shadows to find he is alone.

Well.

Giggling, he slips into the apartment and away from prying eyes. The fun is obviously over; it's time to scram.

I have struggled with bringing Harley into one or two of these because I really love her…and non-consensual three-ways with her and my favorite boys. But I have decided to keep is simple. And Ivy would get jealous.