Not Done Yet

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, I deeply appreciate hearing your thoughts! Thanks to all for reading.

Bruce threw his costume in the back of his vehicle, followed by the Joker's pathetic trash bag "luggage". Bruce thought it was interesting that the man who had robbed and stolen so much, so often, could fit everything of any importance to him in one half-filled garbage can liner.

The Joker slid into the passenger seat and glumly peered out the window as they traveled, his chin propped on his hand.

"What's the matter?" Bruce finally asked.

"Nothing. I'm thrilled. I'm on my way to being your little house pet until I fuck up enough for you to cart me back to the nut house. No pressure, though."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Shall we cut to the chase--I can drop you by Arkham right now, since you're so sure that's where you'll end up."

The Joker didn't respond, just rolled his eyes. They rode in silence until they arrived at the penthouse and Bruce drove the car into the underground garage.

Jack looked around the large enclosure as he unfolded himself from the car. Bruce handed him his bag, and directed him to the elevator that would lead to Bruce's penthouse. They stepped out of the elevator, and walked through a passageway that opened into Bruce's bedroom.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Bruce watched the Joker's face, trying to gauge his reaction, but he did nothing but look around for a place to put his trash bag. He finally looked questioningly at Bruce.

"Over here." Bruce opened his large, walk-in closet and gestured for Jack to put the bag inside.

Finally, a grunt of derision from the Joker.

"Oh, you slay me. Your damn clothes closet's bigger than the entire house I grew up in."

Bruce shook his head. "Yes, ok, I have money. I'm not apologizing for it. I try to be responsible with it; to use it for good. At least I never robbed or extorted or killed to get it."

Jack just laughed.

"Well, money's nice to have, Brucie! I really don't hold it against you. I'm just trying to make you see how pathetic it is that you're so full of guilt about it."

"I'm not 'full of guilt,'" Bruce protested.

"Oh, sure you are! Look what you're doing with me. Here I was, a perfectly happy little criminal that you could have been perfectly happy having a little mindless sex with on occasion, and everything would have been just fine. But no. First you have to be the big, mean vigilante, hauling me off to the nut hatch, uncaringly preventing me from flourishing in my natural habitat." The Joker began walking around the large room, examining his surroundings.

"Then, you felt kind of guilty about the Arkham Nazis constantly running electric currents through my brain and beating the shit out of me, so you had to start throwing money at 'em to get them to actually do their jobs and treat me. And now that I've been so very ungrateful as to escape all that fun, you want to keep me safely imprisoned in your palace until you can figure out what the hell to do with me. A lot of trouble to go through just to get a decent fuck."

"First of all, you were not 'happy', you were on the verge of suicide. Secondly, places like Arkham will always degenerate into corrupt hellholes without outside intervention. And, third, I honestly don't think that the only reason I'm doing all of this is because of sex, and frankly, I'm a little hurt that you do."

"Aw, did I hurt your itty-bitty feelings, big guy? Hey, I didn't mean to. No, I didn't I'm just helping you, trying to get you to understand...." He had taken to gesticulating for emphasis.

"Oh, stop it!" Bruce interrupted. "You're playing mind games with me and I'm really not at my normal tolerance level for that, so it's not fair. How about you just make yourself at home while I take a shower and get ready to go to work?"

"Well, wait a minute, do I get a tour? Or am I just confined to this one room? Oh, and aren't you going to introduce me to your butler guy, what's his name? Alfred?" Jack looked expectantly at his host.

"I think we'll save all that excitement for a little later on. I have to sort of...build up to explaining...you...to Alfred. You stay in this room, yes, this ONE room," he emphasized as his mercurial houseguest tentatively tried the door handle. "There's cable television, DVDs, CDs, books, magazines....you should be able to entertain yourself for a couple of hours while I attend a meeting.."

"Great, so I guess I can just starve, here in this land of plenty?"

Bruce sighed. It was like having an exotic animal unceremoniously dumped in his penthouse without proper feed or habitat supplies.

"I'll bring some food up before I leave...."

"How about some booze? I'm much more docile when I'm drunk," the Joker offered helpfully, as he now began poking around in drawers as if seeking out Bruce's hidden stash. He began actually pulling clothes out carelessly and not bothering to push the drawers back in. Bruce watched wearily as his impeccably folded underwear and socks were turned into a silk and fine cotton wreck.

"Why do I doubt that? And, no, no booze. It doesn't mix well with your medications, as you very well know." Bruce strode over to the inquisitive man and carefully pulled him away from his dresser drawer.

"Look, I really don't care if you go through my things, but please don't make a mess. I'd like to come home to an orderly bedroom, not a mock-up of a crime scene."

"Yeah, whatever. Thought that's what you had a slave, I mean, butler, for." The Joker's eyes danced with mischief and his voice dripped with sarcasm. Bruce fought the urge to smack him.

"Alfred is not a...it's not Alfred's job to clean up after you, ok? Now, please, find something non-destructive to occupy yourself with and let me get ready for work."

The Joker sneered and rolled his eyes before throwing himself onto the king-sized bed.

"Ok, Brucie, you got it. How 'bout I pass out for a couple of hours? I'm beat."

"That would be great, if I actually believed you. But, I'll just be happy if you can contain yourself while I shower.

The Joker waved his hand dismissively, and tiredly turned over. Bruce watched him until he realized that his breathing had slowed and he was, possibly, really asleep. Bruce peered at him from a safe distance, shrugged, and went to clean up.

* * *

Bruce showered, shaved, and dressed, then returned to his bedroom to find the bed empty.

"Oh, shit," he thought. He looked hopefully around the room, but no Joker. He strode out the door and glanced up and down the hallway. Nothing.

"Shit," said Bruce between gritted teeth.

Just then, the elevator opened and the Joker came strolling out, carrying a plate with a sandwich on it and a glass of milk. He grinned cheerfully at Bruce.

"Hey, pal, sorry to disappear on ya like that, but I couldn't sleep on an empty stomach, so--hope you don't mind!--I helped myself to a little snack." He gracefully swept past Bruce and settled into an easy chair, setting down his food and taking the remote in hand to find something to watch.

Bruce bit the side of his cheek in an attempt to tame his anger.

"Jack...did you happen to see Alfred?" he asked as if talking to a child.

"Uh...gray-haired guy? English accent?"

Sigh. "Yes..."

"Yeah, I spotted him. But you told me you wanted to handle the introductions, so I didn't say anything to him. And I'm sure he'll recover just fine, once he regains consciousness..."

"What??!" Bruce was ready to leap forward to strangle the man.

The Joker collapsed into laughter.

"Oh...you should see your face! Oh, you kill me! You don't have one ounce of faith in me, do you?" Jack's humor quickly dissolved into a cynical glare.

"Answer me right now, did you..."

"No, I didn't hurt him! I just saw him at a distance, talking on the phone. But, boy, were you ready to believe I put him in a coma or something..."

Bruce stared at him for a moment. Of course, he was right. But, he was beginning to think this wasn't going to work out, after all.

"Ok. I'm...sorry. But, you have to admit--I might have a few good reasons not to trust you."

They gazed at each other for a long moment. Jack finally shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe I shouldn't try to be such a funny guy, huh?" he asked, his face relaxing into a better humor.

"That would...help," Bruce agreed. "And, I'll try not to jump to conclusions. But, you did do exactly what I asked you not to do--you left without letting me know what you were up to."

"Ooo, I got myself a sandwich! Lock me up, I'm out of control!" the Joker sneered irritably.

Bruce knelt in front of him and gently brushed a thick strand of blond hair out of his eyes.

"I want this to work out, Jack. I'll do whatever it takes. But you have to try. You really do have to try."

Jack stared resentfully at him for a moment, then broke into a good-natured smile. The dark-haired man really was cute, especially when he was exasperated.

"Ok, Bruce, you're right. I'm just being a jerk, it's kind of second nature to me...but, yeah, I'll try to act right. I'll stay in here while you're gone, don't worry."

Bruce felt a combination of hope and dread, but decided to take him at his word. After all, there were security cameras....

"Ok...well, I'm out of here as soon as I find my shoes..."

"Yeah, let me hit the head before you go," said Jack. He headed for the bathroom, and in a moment, Bruce heard a wail of dismay:

"Shit, Bruce, the fucking bathroom's bigger than my whole apartment!"

Bruce grinned and when the Joker came out, zipping up his pants and shaking his head in disgust, Bruce pulled him into his arms and kissed him.

"Welcome to my world, Joker."

* * *

Bruce headed downstairs to find Alfred. He couldn't leave him alone, unknowing, in the house with a former homicidal maniac possibly roaming free.

"Alfred...may I talk to you for a moment?" Bruce called. He didn't know what, exactly, he was going to say, he'd just have to wing it....

"Of course, sir, what is it?"

"Uh...well, I wanted to let you know that we have a...houseguest."

"Is that right, sir?"

"Yes...and, well, there are special circumstances...."

"Indeed?"

"Uh-huh. It's...it's the Joker, Alfred." Bruce couldn't sugar-coat it, better to just throw all the cards on the table.

"Ah. That was the young man with the scars I noticed scrabbling around in the kitchen, then?"

"Oh...you saw him."

"Yes, sir. None too subtle, that one, sir."

"Right. Well, he's supposed to stay upstairs. Don't bother trying to look after him, he's fine. And I'd like to sort of gradually introduce the two of you...."

"Master Wayne, may I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Wasn't the Joker confined to a mental institution?"

"Uh...yes."

"I see. So, somehow he's come to take up residence--here?"

"Uh-huh."

"Makes perfect sense, sir, just wanted to clarify." Alfred offered Bruce a sarcastic rise of an eyebrow.

"I will sit down and explain everything later, right now I have a meeting to get to. In the meantime, just check the security cams occasionally and keep the exits in lock-down mode once I leave. If anything--worrisome happens, just call the police. He knows he's to stay in the room, and he shouldn't need anything until I get back."

"Very good, sir. I'll set up camp in the security room."

"Probably a good idea. I'll see you later."

Bruce left for his meeting.

* * *

Alone, the Joker ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He didn't know why Bruce bothered. He was a nice guy and Jack didn't want to see him hurt, but, he was definitely betting on the wrong horse.

What the hell did he expect to get out of this mess, anyway? Jack's undying love and devotion? Sorry, those things were in short supply...all he, Joker, ever wanted from Bruce was a good fuck and maybe a laugh or two. He didn't expect to end up being incarcerated in the fucking Wayne penthouse suites...not his style, not his style at all. Besides, he had things to do, and Brucie's obsessive/compulsive need to control him would definitely throw a monkey wrench into his activities. It's not like Wayne could do anything about the situation, anyway.

Yeah, it would be better to just leave now and let the chips fall where they may.

He'd do 'em both a favor, save everyone a lot of trouble. But...he was so tired. He just wanted to sleep for a while. And, he really did want to have a little roll in the hay with Bruce, here in these classy accommodations, just once. Jeeze, maybe he'd loosen up a little in his own bed, on his own turf. So...what the hell. Another day wouldn't matter one way or the other.

Sure, he'd hang around a while. He'd wait for His Honor to come home, welcome him like a good little housewife, or whatever the hell role Bruce envisioned him playing for him. Ask him how his day was, rub his tense shoulders, suck his cock, give him some sex...whatever he wanted, really.

In fact, he could handle it for a few days. Pay Bruce back for his kindness, just a little bit. Then, he'd scram. Bruce'd never know what hit him.

* * *

It was difficult for Bruce to concentrate during the meeting. His thoughts kept wandering back to Jack, making him alternately feel a tightening in his stomach from tension, and a tightening in his crotch from excitement. The thought of returning home and finding Jack waiting for him...if he really was waiting for him, and not skulking around, out somewhere on the streets of Gotham. He had to restrain himself from text-messaging Alfred every five minutes to see if Jack was staying put.

As much as he had hated seeing Jack in Arkham, at least he never had to worry about where the hell he was.

In spite of his preoccupation, Bruce managed to pull himself together long enough to make an eloquent statement regarding the pull-out of Wayne Enterprises' financial support for certain charities that were being funded by the arms manufacturers that were under suspicion by the FBI. Bruce delegated the assignment of PR duties and research into the legitimacy of the affected causes to Lucius Fox, and the meeting was over.

Gratefully, Bruce hurried home.

* * *

Jack was sound asleep on Bruce's bed, lying on his side, embracing a feather pillow as though it were a lover. Bruce smiled, first in relief, then in a swell of lust. The blond curls fell around the handsome, scarred face, his t-shirt had ridden up enough to reveal his bare stomach, and Bruce liked seeing him so at peace, calm, almost vulnerable...he took off his jacket, tie, and shoes, and lay down next to Jack. He awoke, and peered sleepily at his host, giving him a crooked smile.

"You're here...miss me?" he asked softly.

"Yes...come here," said Bruce. Jack scooted over to him and settled into his arms, and Bruce gave him a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Jack eagerly returned it, and for a long moment they simply took pleasure in their bodies being cuddled against each other. Bruce ran his hand over Jack's back, and began nibbling at the curve of his neck.

"Aw, Bruce, you don't have to romance me. Just let me get my pants off and you can have at it, or would you rather have a blow job for starters?" he asked genially.

"Jack...just shut up. I happen to like romancing you, at least a little bit."

"Oh, yeah? Well...ok, then. You want me to play hard to get or something, make it interesting?" Jack offered.

"NO! I just want you to...like being with me. I think that's interesting enough, at this point. Don't you?"

"Well...sure, I guess! Uh...so what, more kissing?"

Bruce gave him a look.

"If it's not inconveniencing you too much?"

"No, go ahead."

Bruce went back to ravishing Jack's warm mouth, but noticed that Jack wasn't exactly relaxing into it.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked, the soul of patience.

"Nothing! It's just..."

"What?"

"Well...this is all too perfect, somehow..." Jack surveyed the room critically.

"Oh, yes, a roof over your head, climate control, a clean bed, access to hot water and soap...I can see how that would kill the mood for you," Bruce said dryly.

"Well, yeah! I mean, I'm used to doing this stuff in back alleys and mental institutions, not the posh quarters of a billionaire's penthouse. I don't know...maybe you oughta smack me around a little, first, huh?" Jack asked, seriously.

"No." said Bruce firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because!" Bruce flung himself back onto the bed in exasperation. This was definitely not going to work, definitely.

"Because why?"

"Because, I'm not into inflicting pain on someone I want to be close to..."

"You don't seem to mind when you're Batman..."

Bruce sat up and looked into the Joker's dark eyes.

"Is that what you want? You want it to be like that again? Me pursuing you, beating you, taking you like an animal?"

"Yeah! Now you're getting it!" The Joker exclaimed, pleased.

"Well, forget it! I'm Batman when I'm fighting criminals, and I was under the impression that you were at least somewhat recovered from that period in your life. I don't want it to be that way anymore. I just want to be with you--Jack. Not the Joker."

Jack stared at him for a long moment. Now he fell back onto the bed, hopelessly.

"So, to get what I want, I'd have to give up what I've got," he stated flatly.

"I suppose. You've got me--Bruce. Batman...Batman's your fantasy. I don't know what to do about that."

They both lay there quietly, the muffled sounds of the city humming in the background. Finally, Bruce sat up, and rolled over onto Jack and looked him in the eye.

"Can't you give me a chance?" he said softly.

"Yeah...ok. Let's try it your way, sissy boy," Jack grinned at him playfully.

"Who the hell are you calling a sissy?" Bruce growled, and in short order, he had Jack's clothes off, and then soon after was roughly pounding away inside him, much to Jack's immense pleasure.

Maybe there was a chance this was going to work, after all, they both thought.