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The Cake Games	By : kokoronoitami Category: DC Verse Movies > The Dark Knight Views: 6411 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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There had been a quiet celebration that evening when Commissioner Gordon had returned to the office, piece of the device in his possession. A few pats on the back followed as the other officers smiled in hope. Although a few of them refused to believe it, others were convinced that Batman had played some part in the search and likely the recovery of the piece belonging to the expensive equipment that they were trying so desperately to find before the end of the month. Unlike their previous cases of stolen equipment, this crime could offset a pending compromise with an adjacent district if it wasn’t recovered in the time allotted. Everyone knew that the situation was more serious than they let the public believe.

A major weapon that didn’t even belong in Gotham was set to be transported back to their neighboring district only a month following the night it went missing. The fact that an experimental weapon that Gotham’s scientists had borrowed went missing at the hands of the most unstable criminal they knew was like a nightmare. Gordon knew that he’d had to think of something fast in order to quell a panic, assigning the only person he knew could likely find it. Regardless of regulations, he’d secretly employed Batman assuring the other officers that everything was being done to recover it safely by the department. He was certain than most of the officers believed him, but amongst the half dozen smiling faces, one remained strict.

Gordon nodded at the man in acknowledgment recalling his name was Officer Jacobs.
The taller man leaned against the building’s exit, arms crossed over his large barrel chest as his co-workers took turns questioning the commissioner. Jacobs frowned, eyes darkened by the shadow of his uniform’s hat. He’d been through the first commissioner’s strict rule before his very violent and tragic death. Gordon may have had some tricks up his sleeve and proved himself worthy of praise, but in his own honest opinion, the man was just too soft.

Not only that, but every time he was questioned him, he’d denied working with Batman, a declaration that no matter how many times he heard it, something in him refused to believe. Something was definitely going on behind department rules that the former commissioner would never have approved of. There was enough corruption knowingly going on behind closed doors already that he’d be a fool to sit back and let himself become a part of it. He longed to expose the truth. Unfortunately, the mysterious character known to Gotham as Batman was a hard man to find. Catching him was like trying to pin down a blanket of smoke with a needle. It would inevitably slip through your fingers without a trace. In all honesty, the man was like a specter. It was highly unlikely that you’d have an audience with him unless he wanted you to.

__________

Motivated by his first success, Bruce had spent half of the following night trying to coax more information out of his reluctant captive to no avail. Frustrating as it was, the cheerful crime lord was intent on drawing out his game.
As a result, the next morning Bruce found himself unwilling to part with his bed. He had never slept so hard in his entire life prior to acquiring his new persona. His head was heavy, mouth parted and eyes shut tight. He was just in the middle of another wood-sawing snore when an unpleasant brightness assaulted his eyes, lightening the black to red-orange behind his eyelids. He rolled onto his right side, away from the window as Alfred unsympathetically parted the drapes quickly. The sound of the inner rings along the rod were like nails on a chalkboard as they screeched.

Bruce moaned something unintelligible in his drowsy protest, left arm reaching forward to grab a pillow to hide his tired eyes.

“God-damn it, Alfred…. It’s early…” he mumbled.

The older man couldn’t keep the smile from his face as the scenario brought back memories of his master in his youth. There had been many mornings when the young heir had to be practically dragged from his very comfortable bed in preparation for school. He’d hoped the busy man would have out grown the need to keep himself up late by the time he hit his early thirties. He was obviously wrong.

He cleared his throat as he approached the figure lying tangled in the vanilla sheets. Without hesitation, he spoke annoyingly loud and clear.

“Rise and shine, Master Wayne.”

The younger man sighed. A muffled voice trailed out from beneath the fluffy pillow. “Ten more minutes…”

Alfred shook his head.

“As much as I’d like to just let you lie there, I recall you promising to give The Joker his special drink this morning, seeing as how you didn’t do it last night.”

Bruce groaned as he ungracefully rolled onto his back, summoning the energy to pull himself to a sitting position.

“Special drink?” he questioned, eyes squinting against the sun-light that poured into the room.
Alfred leaned forward. “Yes, Sir. The drink you put his meds in.”

The young man rolled his eyes before swinging his pajama clad legs over the edge of the bed. That’s right. He’d been secretly slipping the man pain-killers in his afternoon drink, but seeing as how tired he’d been the previous night, he’d decided to give it to him first thing. He nodded as he stood and stretched.

“You’re right. That reminds me. I should check his bandages too.”

Alfred smiled, feeling accomplished at the site of the younger man now fully awake.

“I’ll prepare the treys for you to take down.”

_______________

To his surprise, when he opened the cell door that afternoon, he was greeted with the sound of music. A soft classical number was tapping away faintly from the digital radio station the television was set to. He raised a brow as he looked around the room. The bathroom door in the corner was slightly ajar, the sound of running water faint. He could only assume that the man was occupied in there. Slightly miffed, he set the man’s meal on the coffee table in routine along with a small bag of medical supplies. The water abruptly stopped followed by a little shuffling. Bruce thought nothing of it when an odd noise escaped the adjacent room.

Was he alright in there? Almost instantly, he began picturing a dozen negative scenes, each one resulting in the man either breaking something or hurting himself. He hadn’t been too anxious to interrupt him, noting how every time he checked the room, all appeared fine.
He heard a whispered curse slip and his brows drew down warily as he stood. Perhaps he should check to make sure the man wasn’t messing with the wound on his left arm, or worse, hurting himself. After a moment of deliberation, he made his way around the couch and to the adjoining room. He quietly pushed the door back, biting his lip was all he could do to keep from laughing at the scene before him.

The Joker had apparently been trying to remove the gauze his rival had secured around his wound. His suit jacket and vest were lying on the floor, dress shirt hanging off of his right shoulder, right hand wrestling with the medical tape on the naked skin of his left arm with a look of absolute determination on his face.

Bruce cleared his throat, the pale man’s muscles relaxing as he slowly turned his line of sight toward the person standing in the doorway. He watched him as he continued to pick at the bandage.

“Stop that,” Bruce’s voice was strict as he took a step toward him. The Joker’s expression was cautious as he approached.

“It itches.” he sounded agitated.

Bruce reached for his left arm, curiously. “It needs to be cleaned. I’ll change the bandage,” he announced. “Come back to the couch,” he ordered. “The last thing you need is to cause an infection…”

The Joker smirked as he followed him to the cell and sat down on the couch, casting aside his dress shirt completely and leaving his torso bare. Bruce took a few supplies from a small sealed bag he’d left on the table and then sat down to join him. The Joker simply offered him his arm and then waited patiently. The well-to-do man paused, slapping on some white latex gloves. Without further ado, Bruce took a small pocket scissors from the folds of his suit and cut the seal away. Luckily, the binding had still been pretty tight considering he’d changed it the night before.

With an amusing amount of care, he unwrapped the stained gauze and tossed it into the trash beside the couch.
The wound was healing nicely and had stopped leaking. The cut had been pretty deep, into his forearm, the result of a scuffle he’d been in the night he’d trailed him across the rooftops. Bruce’s features were serious as he ripped open a small pack, removing the moist towelette, his captive’s eyes glued to his every movement.

The Joker twitched once as the soft cool towelette touched his skin. Bruce forced himself to concentrate on the problem at hand as he dabbed gently at the scabbed wound, making sure that it was properly cleaned. After a couple of quiet minutes, he was nearly finished redressing the area when the other man spoke.

“That feels good.”

Bruce frowned.

“It should. The ointment should control the itch.”
Neatly, the light-eyed man tore a strip of tape off and gingerly sealed the gauze.

The dark-eyed man cocked his head.
“Mind helping me something else that’s been a bother?” he looked fairly serious, so much so that Bruce had completely missed the inflection in his voice.

“What is it?” he asked in concern.
“Come closer, Bats…”
Bruce breathed evenly, lips parted.
“Tell me what is it…”
He noticed a tension rising within himself that he associated with being close to him as the man leaned forward a little. It was similar to a giddy rush of unexpectedly seeing someone that you had an interest in, which was completely irrational considering he had no interest beyond retrieving information from the criminal.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the wavy-haired man reached for his right hand, bringing it to rest on his chest.
“I think it started up here..” he spoke as though he were piecing the thought together, Bruce’s concern growing as he pressed his fingers against his sternum, looking for anything unusual. The skin was pale and slightly toned but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“What started…” Bruce inquired, worried that perhaps he’d missed something medically…
His prisoner sighed softly as he continued.
“I got the strangest sensation that seemed to… tingle,” his eyes widened for a moment. “The feeling went lower as the time passed this morning,” he encouraged, dragging the man’s hand down to his firm stomach.

Bruce raised a brow. A strange sensation in his chest?
“Sure it wasn’t acid reflux?”

The Joker shook his head. “Oh I’m sure… the feeling travelled down,” he spoke softly as he pressed the hand just below his navel. Bruce swallowed. It couldn’t possibly be an infection. Perhaps digestion related. The Joker smiled. “Lower…” he brought his right hand to rest over the bulge between his thighs. “Ah… right there…” he smirked.

After making the connection, Bruce ripped his hand away, eyes angry.

“This isn’t a game,” he declared.

The Joker locked gazes with him, relaxing back into the couch.
“I like that look in your eyes…”

Bruce’s eyes averted to the growing bulge in the other man’s pants with slight worry.

“Stop that,” the vigilante warned. The Joker arched his neck back against the couch.

“Stop what?” he shrugged his shoulders. “Being human? What’s wrong? Am I scaring you…” he tilted his head slightly, right hand creeping down his front and beneath his pants. “You seem to think that because I like to cause carnage and destruction… making trouble and outwitting the cops that it’s the only thing I want. I ugh….. have my days when I’d want nothing more than simple contact with someone.”

Bruce’s eyes remained narrow in suspicion.

“What sort of contact could you possibly want that’s normal?”
“Heh…” the madman smiled seductively. “Why don’t you c’mere and I’ll show you…” he watched him anxiously as Bruce sat firmly planted, refusing to budge. He smirked. “Oh I see, you’d rather I come to you…”

The other man swallowed.
“No. Drop this façade. Let’s talk about finding those pieces.”

“If that’s the way you want it…” he shrugged his shoulders, slowly pulling his hand out of his pants as if it were completely normal. “The second and third piece only I can acquire, because only I know what to do to get them.”

“Well,” Bruce reached across the trey behind the small coffee pot, balancing the plate. “If you swear to find them for me tonight, you can have this…” he offered, presenting him with the neat slice of chocolate cake. The Joker exhaled in defeat. Pies he could resist, but chocolate cake was a whole other ball game…

“You already know the answer to that,” he reached forward, Bruce carefully sliding the plate into his hand.

He immediately took a slice off of it with the silver fork and deposited it in his mouth. His expression was tense for several seconds as he savored the sweet bean-like flavor of the rich cocoa, the soft brownie-like texture yielding to the whim of his salivary glands as he went through the motions of mastication.

He swallowed before commenting.

“Ohh Bats, a man could get used to this…”
Bruce tried not to sneer as he quickly responded, “Well, don’t.”

The Joker lapped up the chocolate icing on the plate slowly, eyes fixed on his enemy’s.
Bruce had instinctively averted his gaze to avoid the uncomfortable feeling he got watching him until the dark-eyed man had finished. When he looked up at him once more, he found himself disturbed by the tense look.

“Don’t look at me like that…” he demanded.

The Joker leaned toward him.

“Like what, Bats? Perhaps you’re imagining things…” he smirked. “Maybe you should take my advice…” he took his time in rising from the couch and walking around to stand behind him. Bruce felt the hands creep up over his shoulders and apply a rhythmic pressure. The Joker’s voice was soft in his right ear. “Re..lax.”

“You’re wasting my time,” Bruce admit, trying his hardest not to succumb to the pleasant circular motions the criminal’s thumbs made between his tired shoulder blades. Joker’s hands applied a bit more pressure until he felt the muscles gradually release their tension.

“I’m not wasting time…” he announced with a frown. “You’ll get what you want and more… in due time..” his voice carried a hint of offense.

Bruce exhaled heavily at the soothing contact as the dark-eyed man spoke.

“I know you’re probably telling yourself right now, that this isn’t supposed to feel good,” he smacked his lips in satisfaction. “But I know it does because I used to do this for my wife a lot,” he continued to massage the man’s shoulders, his movements exquisite. “Just admit it..” he prodded.

The other man closed his eyes. Did The Joker even remember where he came from anymore? Perhaps not…No one had ever found a record of him that pointed to a normal family-life or close confidant.

“Well?” he asked. “It feels nice, doesn’t it?”
Bruce swallowed before speaking, his voice softer.
“Fine. It’s not unbearable…” he concluded reluctantly.

The Joker beamed behind him, pausing a moment to speak. “See?” his voice went up with youthful pleasure. “That wasn’t so hard to admit now was it?”
The corners of Bruce’s mouth turned down.

“If you’re done wasting time, we can talk about the next step in getting that equipment back in order.”

The Joker leaned close enough that his lips barely brushed against the man’s ear.
“Well, I’m not done wasting time…”

Bruce suddenly froze as the warm lips touched his neck.
“You are…” he whispered.

The smiling man tilted his head, mouth finding a spot beneath the other man’s jaw that made him catch his breath. The Joker sucked on the flesh pleasurably, his right hand gliding around down the man's front and down between his tense thighs to stroke him. After a few moments, Bruce found himself trembling, mouth parted as he sucked in each breath frantically. He didn't realize when the man had snaked back around to face him, only noticed that his tonsil-teasing kiss was sucking both the breath and the fight out of him.

Between the quick, urgent kisses the dark-eyed man spoke.

“Sure its weird at first… but…. don’t knock it… till you’ve tried it…”

Bruce felt his control falter, his chest beginning to rise and fall faster as the man continued.

“I can tell…that…. you wouldn’t regret if I went farther.”
Bruce felt his hips shift a little beneath the man. His right arm shaking as he gripped the armrest. For the second time since encountering the man, he found himself painfully hard beneath him. The Joker smiled as he leaned forward, resting his chin on the other man’s left shoulder, playfully for a few minutes.

“I want to know …who told you I was asexual…” he leaned back a little to see his enemy’s expression. Bruce’s eyes were half-closed when the paler man brought his lips against his, whispering into his mouth.

“They may have told you…I’m just another loon…but I’m not…” he explained, reaching down between them to grope him.
Bruce’s eyes fluttered.

“What separates you… from them…” he countered, hands coming up to the man’s shoulders to keep him at a slight distance.

“Listen,” he groaned, “I don’t care who you are….I just like what you do to me…” Carefully he found the zipper to the other man’s expensive slacks before adding, “…and what I could do to you…”

Bruce’s eyes flew open when he felt a warm hand reach between the folds of fabric and grasp him. Reflexively, he grabbed the other man’s wrist, grip hard enough to make the dark-eyed man wince.
“That’s enough…” he breathed. With a smile, The Joker drew back, allowing him to catch his breath.
"Ahh.... Still lying to yourself,” the pale man smiled.

“Get up..” he ordered.

The Joker frowned for a second, Bruce’s voice stern. “I wont ask you again.”

He watched as the man stood and then sat down beside him. Bruce swallowed, quietly getting up and adjusting his slacks as he went to exit the cell. He looked back at the criminal once, unsure how to react as he waved his pale fingers tauntingly.

"You just keep your word and help me find those pieces…” he ordered, wiping his mouth guiltily. The man with the scarred smile crossed his arms as he settled back down onto the couch.
“Not unless you agree to let me personally get the next two……”

Bruce nodded, biting back agitation. “Be ready tonight, then..." he replied, turning and leaving, the door clicking shut after him.

________________

Taking him out for the first time since his capture as Batman was going to be annoying. He could tell by how long it’d taken the man to apply the white foundation to his face as well as the dark rings surrounding his eyes that he was used to taking his time. He’d refused to leave with his face bare, having gotten used to going out night after night with his usual face prior to his capture. Once he was finished, he’d turned to the man with his trademark blood-red grin right before he was blind-folded and taken from his cell and out into the waiting night.

Bruce was no fool. He’d taken precautions that went as far as securing a special bracelet to the man’s left wrist in the event that he attempted to escape. At the push of a button, the security device could render him immobile by sending an unpleasant current through his body.

The man didn’t seem to care in the slightest, casually turning his wrist this way and that in amusement as they stood on the rooftop of the building he’d given him the address to. Bruce naturally had scanned the area first for any signs of trouble before allowing the man to walk toward the dark machinery in the corner. Shaded by a few metal beams overhead, the left corner at the top of the old printing building cast a few sinister shadows across the stone surface.

With a smile, The Joker skipped down into the shadows until the darkness consumed him completely. Batman watched the area, peering through the beams, eyes tense. He could hear a shuffling sound of objects being moved before it fell silent.

After several moments he took a few careful steps toward the darkness. “Joker?” he questioned. When there was no response, he raised his voice.
“Joker?”

The voice was eerie and he couldn’t tell if it had come from the right direction.
“Yes…….?”
“I’m waiting.” He saw the glimmer of a dark glove come forth into the light, holding what he assumed was a piece of the device. The light gradually travelled up the figure of the man before his face was visible.
“What took you so long….” Batman demanded an answer.

The outlaw simply smiled pleasantly, wetting his lips before responding.
“Why, I was finding it,” he said a matter of fact.
Batman shook his head in annoyance.

“Good. Now lets go. You promised me the second tonight…” he urged him, leading him back down to the street.

______________

Acquiring the second piece involved a little more negotiation. Bruce found himself displeased with The Joker’s order to stay back as they walked into the second room of the warehouse. Batman stayed in the dark corner of the dimly lit building, watching through a small hole as The Joker proceeded ahead of him. The first room had been rather open and spacious, lined with old dusty boxes and random appliances. A light peeked out from under a door in the very back, rough laughter escaping it. Bruce glanced over at the man to his left as they stopped at the door. He was anxious to see what, if anything he could do.

After signaling for Batman to stay hidden, The Joker opened the one wood door and then strolled into the room with no problem. Several large guys were seated at a long table, engaged wholeheartedly in a poker game. The Joker smiled, watching all of the men as their attention flickered to him one after the other. Seeing no threat, they gradually went back to their card game, one man throwing down his hand.

Any fool could see that The Joker was a small guy in comparison to the football player sized men seated at the table. But where they had muscle, he had brains. He knew he was quicker. He tucked a few short strands of dark wavy brown hair behind his ear. It was obvious the way they carried on that he would have trouble demanding their attention.

"Hey. Excuse me, gentleman?" he frowned as his voice was lost among the crowd. This simply would not do. With a forced breath, he climbed up onto the table, waiting as eyes averted to him, some doing so twice before giving him their full attention. He reached into a hidden pocket underneath the left side of his jacket.

Everyone nearly scrambled at what sounded like a bullet piercing the ceiling. That got their attention... Bruce’s eyes widened behind his cover spot. That sneaky bastard had a gun hidden on that roof, he mused.

"Ah. Well now," the pale man smiled.

The man in the corner raised a brow at his actions, his voice matching the sneer across his rough features as he studied the man in the purple suit with a look of distaste.

"At least now the boys know who owns the queer mans boutique on 8th ave..."

Laughter rang out all around. The man on the table smirked, aiming the weapon in his direction before pulling the trigger. The larger man jolted in his seat before slumping over his cards, a speckle of blood beginning to spread through the sleeveless white tee. The Joker blew away the smoke creeping from the end of the narrow barrel with satisfaction.

The Joker sighed. "And now everyone here knows who used to sit there...."

One of the men opposite the victim suddenly piped up.

"Hey, who do you think you are, man?" he frowned, making a move to stand. The menacing look he received from the pale man sat him back down without another word.
The crazy man smiled wider as he recognized his card on the table, picking it up and studying it for several seconds before thrusting it amongst the pile.

"I'm The Joker...And you have something that I want..."

A particularly hefty looking fellow with a 5 o’clock shadow and close cropped dark hair suddenly spoke, brushing something from his dark shirt.

“I ain’t givin’ you nothin’ unless you can beat me at my own game…” he announced.

The Joker’s expression brightened as he sat atop the table, Indian-style. He hadn’t played in a long time…
“Well then. Count me in…” he agreed.

The large man smirked.
“Since you conveniently popped Al, you can have his chips and his cards,” he carefully passed the hand face-down over to the new player. Bruce shook his head from where he hid. That attention-span deprived fool…

He looked down at his watch. He might as well just text Alfred and let him know not to wait up. His eyes flickered to the purple-suited man sitting on the table flipping happily through his hand.

He knew it. It was definitely going to be a long night…
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The Cake Games