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devilishkurumi
Subject: Harvey Dent, the Joker
Table: A
Prompt: Cry
Log or Thread?: Log
Heads up! Thar be smut in these thar woods! AKA, you should know that this log contains sexual stuff and so you need to be careful reading it. And stuff.

It didn't really strike the Joker as surprising that most of his time inside this God-forsaken hideout was spent in the kitchen. His room was for important things; the kitchen... for not so important things. At the moment, he found himself hunched over a chopping board, stabbing a little ineffectually at various vegetables. He couldn't stop sniffling, and it was more than once that he had to rub at his face with the back of his arm, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. His arm had splotches of black and white greasepaint all over it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No. Yes. What's love, anyway? Why did it matter?

He licked his lips and undid his belt, dropping it on the center of the table, even if it was sort of an affirmation in itself. "Take off your pants for the last question."

He didn't answer or he couldn't answer- Harvey glanced at the belt. Wasn't that interesting.

He took off his socks instead, on his last piece of clothing now. It was less about winning then it was, this new line of questions fascinated Harvey. He half expected the clown to be pulling his chain but the way he answered and didn't answer- it was telling.

"What ended it?" He asked, watching the Joker intently.

He grunted.

"Have to be more specific, Harvey. Don't know what you're talking about, otherwise." He did, but that was beside the point - had to drag it out, make it last. He didn't like being evenly matched with Harvey, who was a stupid fuck who asked questions that he knew the answers to - the fact that he couldn't answer. It was irritating and this was a game he started. He should win by rights.

"Can't answer?" Harvey asked, brow raising. In the end if Harvey 'won' he still lost, but even that moment of false victory was worth the taste. It had been tails, and that was all.

"Why did you leave her, why did she leave you? Did she die- did you kill her?" He sat back. "Stop avoiding the question."

"Not avoiding. And that's more than one question."

The Joker wasn't one to admit it but he was a sore loser and he didn't want to have to deal with the pouting aftermath. He picked at his food and then grabbed the chicken with his hand, gnawing at it for a moment before shrugging.

"I left her." It was the truth but it wasn't enough, he knew Harvey well enough. "She's alive and healthy, married with two-point-five kids and pretty sure I'm dead. Your pants, Harvey."

Ugh, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. But a win was a win, and he had to face it - Harvey looked better naked than he did. Heh.

Harvey watched him a moment before standing, seemingly accepting it as the right answer. At least now this whim of his was over. There wasn't anything left Harvey could could use pay for answers any longer.

"You loved her." He commented as he undid his pants, clinging to the small victory within his defeat. "Or whatever you were then did." He pulled of his pants and tossed them with the rest of his ensemble, looking Joker in the eye.

The Joker's eyes rolled upward at the comment and the lack of flair with his defeat - a half-defeat, really. Well, he wasn't one to deny himself the view of a trophy; his eyes roamed over Harvey idly, picking imperfections, small places where he was more fat than muscle, the way his scarring made it look like a dog got a hold of an action figure.

"Maybe, maybe not. I still have my pants, Harv - wanna test your luck? See if you can get even?" He sat back, legs splayed to either side of the table, arms thrown over the back of the chair. "Or you could just stand there for me without trying.."

Without trying- Harvey's good eye narrowed but he said nothing. He wasn't sure what it meant if the clown did answer, if he even wanted to know, but the damn look on his face. Harvey glanced at the coin now lying on the table, the clean etch of liberty personified staring off into the distance. His eyes returned to the Joker.

"Why did you leave that life?" Why become a monster rather than live that white picket life. Harvey had been wrenched from it, Crane had poisoned himself, why this man?

"The life with a bulimic girlfriend and a shitty house?" More information than he probably should have given, but it was harmless. Tidbits, really. He smiled unpleasantly at Harvey. "Because it's not real. Nine-to-five, business meetings, a dog and a yard -"

He sighed and shook his head, standing up to push Harvey toward the couch. He was answering, after all. "I already told you, Harvey, you're not the only one who's had to deal with the choice between this and that. I wouldn't have the, uh, skin grafts - but I'd be crawling out of my skin anyway." It felt - surprisingly not irritating to actually fill Harvey in more than usual.

"Sit down."

Bulimic? Harvey silently watched him as he spoke, not quite uncomfortable in his state but certainly not pleased by it.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe he hadn't loved her. With Rachel it had been real, even if the 'American dream' life had always been a farce in this city. He wondered vaguely how similar they would be if those scars had been forced on the clown. He refused to dwell on the disturbing thought.

He followed, even sat, glancing sidelong at the table and his coin with a twitch of his fingers. When he glanced up again his gaze wasn't quite as cold. "So part of you did regret it." Destroying the past.

He could hear the sound of glass shattering outside, muffled through the walls but still audible, and he had to force himself not to do anything too hasty. Harvey was still asking questions - even if they weren't exactly phrased as such.

He crouched over Harvey, knees pressing into the couch on either side of Harvey without actually straddling him. He leaned in and pulled at Harvey's hair lightly, going so far as to run his tongue across a small expanse of the other's scarred scalp.

"No. I'd rather be this than whatever that would have turned out as. Able to do whatever I want without worrying about society?" His hand moved to massage Harvey's shoulder, nails digging in lightly. "Able to incite a riot because I have a pen and paper? Nothing's better."

"Just because you can." Harvey muttered, a side comment as he watched the man move closer. His fingers twitched again but he simply lifted them as the Joker pulled at his hair, ran his tongue over the scarring. It was always a strange sensation, the man's attention to his scars, sharp but dulled by the damage.

"Everyone's looking at you." He sounded almost amused in a cracked sort of way, not all there because it wasn't funny that the clown played with people's lives at his whims. Harvey rested his hand on the Joker's side and thought of Rachel's soft curves. When he glanced up at the coal dark eyes the image was gone.

A shudder ran through him as Harvey put his hand on him, simply a remnant of remembering the fucker tickling him rather than something more passionate. If the fucker decided to do that again -

No, he probably wouldn't. "That's right, Harvey, everyone is looking at me. All eyes on the ringmaster." He leaned down and sucked on Harvey's earlobe, then over to bite at his jawline with sharp, short bites. "And everyone out there looked to me and said I like it and now they're out there, doing what I told them to just because they believe in me."

He giggled and dropped a hand to Harvey's chest, dragging his nails to leave red indents, "What'd they do when they believed in you? Joined a few peaceful rallies?"

"No." Harvey answered. The riots seemed to give the damned clown some sort of energy, the same sort of spark trailing after the mad man's nails. His head tilted at the bites and he remembered that drunken night. The nauseating feeling passed in barely a breath. "They stabbed me in the back."

His thumb pressed into some shallow scar, soft for a halting moment before his touch became violent again, as if remembering. "They don't believe in you." He said, low and harsh, lips curling just a touch as he spoke into the Joker's ear and neck. "They're terrified of you, and the minute you vanish for too long they'll pretend you were a bad dream."

Laughing, the Joker dropped his hand around to Harvey's back, fingers splaying out against his skin. "Don't worry, I'll make sure that doesn't happen again." After all, he'd only stab Harvey in the chest.

His mouth latched onto unburnt skin under Harvey's jaw, teething the skin as Harvey manhandled him. "Nn - then I guess I just won't go anywhere."

"You'll just twist the knife." Harvey answered. That or rub salt in the wounds- laughing either way.

"And if the Bat does crack your skull in?" They'd all be free then. The thought passed as his fingers ran bruises up the Joker's back. His nails dug into his shoulder blades. This wasn't even a coin flip.

"But at least you'll know it was coming."

His back arched into Harvey's hands, groaning - he'd be sore tomorrow, all down his spine, but it would be worth it. One of his hands drifted down to Harvey's hip, nails digging in sharp at the comment.

"Then the Batman will take over where I left off." He rests his head against Harvey's chest, biting and licking at his collarbone. "And you'll, uh, take care of him when he does. Won't you?" His voice was a growl and he abandoned any pretense, finally sliding his knees off the couch and onto the floor, mouth and teeth biting along his chest as he moved.

"Maybe you'll even stop me from-" His breath hitched a little, a little involuntary gesture that annoyed him enough to press his fingers just a touch harder on the mad man's shoulder. "-from bleeding out."

The beauty and horror of chaos is it never let you reel back and think. Only passing thoughts, vague echos from when Rachel or Gilda had pressed too hard into his neck- need a high collar tomorrow. It was so ridiculous he nearly laughed.

"And then what?" Harvey asked. Sure he'd kill the Batman, if the Bat didn't break down and kill him first. No, that guilt in his voice, the caped crusader would never try to kill Harvey would he? Just like he would never let Rachel die. It was a fair world after all.

His grip slipped as the Joker moved, preoccupied a moment with thought and feeling before noticing the action. He must have really lost his mind if he only felt mild concern at the clown's apparent intent. Won't you? He didn't need to answer that.

All the Joker could do was roll his shoulders, pushing himself between Harvey's legs forcefully. "And then you can do whatever the fuck you want with Gotham. If we get to that point, I'd say you'd have earned the city."

He licked and kissed his way down Harvey's chest and stomach - somewhat to his own surprise, as he wasn't much for cheap romantic gestures - pausing at the other's belly to look up at him. A hand wandered idly over Harvey's thigh, slipping between them to wrap around the other, one hard, slow pump before he asked, "What is it with you and the past, anyway? Mine, specifically. You never ask questions that aren't... based on it, you notice that?"

Harvey snorted, something that came out more breathy than he wanted. At that point the best thing for Gotham would be his own death as well. That would leave Gotham to Crane - there never really was a right choice, was there?

He wasn't sure if the quiet was relieving or not, broken only by the soundtrack of chaos outside that only worsened as the sun dipped lower and lower into the sky. The other's gesture was distraction enough, he held his tongue but couldn't quite stop the tension in his shoulders just as the clown spoke again.

"-what?" It took a moment to register, attention trying to focus on the Joker because only an idiot would trust him, especially in such a position, ignoring the crash and burn just out the window that put him on edge with dread and a disturbing sort of anticipation of destruction. Why the past? What else did Harvey have, his future had burned to the ground over half a year ago. Why the Joker? Harvey wasn't sure he wanted to know why.

"Should I-" He glanced down irritably. "-should I ask about your future? I already know it."

"It's just interesting, that's all. You're so obsessed with the past." He leaned back, down, giving the skin of Harvey's thigh a nip, hand running over Harvey's length again with another slow move. Casual-like, just two guys talking while one was naked and the other was between his legs.

He giggled.

"Always thinking about it and never just moving on." He shifted his hand and tilted his head to give Harvey a broad-tongued lick, long and slow with something like a moan afterward. "It's depressing."

"Move on to what?" Harvey spat back, half out of irritation and half to keep the groan from escaping his lips. There was little he could do in the position, the lack of control, hell the whole damned situation, what the hell was he doing? He was playing the same games he constantly berated before and after, hypocrisy indeed. He could almost hear the cop's whispered nickname behind the wail of car alarms.

He couldn't bite down a moan this time. "You act like it doesn't effect you." Harvey answered, the breathless quality of his voice no longer so tightly controlled. "But you still want everyone to hear about your damned scars, lies or not. Chicago when you're drunk enough."

"Something more worthwhile, maybe." The Joker curled his lips in a violent kind of grin, like he knew what Harvey was thinking, hands moving to grab Harvey's hips in an iron grip.

That tone was musical, really sealing the Joker's win for him, but there was always more he could get. "I like the attention." It was surprisingly candid and he blinked for a moment before shrugging and continuing, "Chicago was just one of the places I've been, Harvey. It doesn't mean anything. But it's a little fishhook for you, keeps you interested."

Another long stroke from his tongue and he added, "You just really want to know what made me crazy and you think something I've mentioned a few times means anything." He laughed, "It's hilarious."

"Street riots?" That damned grin. "Your games-" He nearly bit his lip. "aren't worthwhile."

Harvey wasn't so sure he believed that, just as much uncertainty as 'Chicago.' He had dealt with mad men before and there was always a reason, always something behind the manic shade in their eyes. Half of him knew better, that chaos had no rhyme or reason. Look at them now. He should have killed the monster months ago but instead some part of him, however small, was dependent on the mad man's words. Part of him enjoyed playing along with the games.

He sucked in a breath sharply, slowly and reluctantly giving up the tight control on his actions. "Maybe I shouldn't be so 'interested.' " He muttered, as though they both didn't know that it was a bit too far gone for that. "You're human," he ground out, "despite the act. I saw the fear toxin- it," the last came out with a light moan. When he spoke again it was through gritted teeth. "There's a reason. You're not so special." You're not that detached.

"Aren't they, though?" The Joker laughed and dug his fingers into Harvey's hips. "They're loosening this city up, after all. Maybe you should take a leaf from Gotham's notebook."

He rolled his eyes as the other spoke about him being human, like it was something he denied himself. Like he didn't know! That was the punchline, after all. "Oh, I am human. More human than any of you uptight penny-pinchers. I let myself do what comes naturally, and that makes me more human than you, Harvey. Makes me special."

He laughed again but this time it was hoarse, deep in the back of his throat and leaned forward. "Try following my lead, Harvey. I know you know how to let go - play along. This'll all be so much more fun for you if you do."

His chuckling subsided and he tilted his head, finally stopping his playing around to wrap his lips around Harvey.