Chapter Text
It was never sunny in Gotham. In fact, it was hardly ever daytime. Nights always seemed unusually long, and when the morning did deign to arrive, it always came with an entourage of clouds. This was the way that all Gothamites preferred to live. If they wanted sunlight, they would have lived in Metropolis (and Metropolis was just too… metropolitan for any respectable Gothamite).
Unfortunately, the Joker was not a respectable Gothamite. He was not a respectable anything, and he quite liked it that way. The Joker loved sunlight. He loved warm breezes and balmy afternoons. If it weren’t for a few choice superheroes, he would have moved to Metropolis long ago. Yet he stayed. His philosophy was that Gotham had character. Everything in Metropolis was pre-packaged and plastic wrapped, much like their god-like Boy Scout, but Gotham had life. And of course, Gotham had his beloved Bat.
Joker prided himself on being a psychopath, even a sociopath- yet when it came to the Bat, his heart melted. Nay, it soared. If only Batsy felt the same way. Actually, scratch that, if only Batsy realized that he felt the same way. Then everything would be tickety-boo.
Joker surveyed his surroundings and smiled. Everything was going perfectly. A stunt like this was not only expensive, stylish, and daring, it was also a declaration. He wanted to see how much he could push his Bat, and if he got a happily ever after in the process? Well, then it would be a win-win!
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harley skating towards him with a clipboard.
“Everything’s ready, boss,” she trilled happily, chewing her bubblegum. She held the clipboard out to him,
“Just need you to sign these terms and conditions and we’ll be on our way.”
“Perfect, dollface, just perfect!” Joker said, clapping his hands together. He felt like a schoolgirl getting ready for prom night. Only with more murderous intent. Or maybe not. It all rested on Batsy.
He made his way over to the car he was going to be riding into the GCPD. It was one of his trademarks, a purple Lamborghini with green accents. It was garish, grotesque, and altogether way too expensive to have any kind of quality or class. He loved it. Getting in, he wondered just how this would all play out. Fuck, was he nervous?
No. Obviously not. The Joker, the scourge of Gotham, did not get nervous over a boy. Not even one that he was madly in love with. One that he would do almost anything for. But what if…
No! He was not going to think about things going wrong. Batsy would see reason. He had to. Or Gotham’s streets would run red with blood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce Wayne was a little bitch. At least, that’s what Batman thought. Nevermind the fact that he was Bruce Wayne; that was a technicality. No, in his civilian persona he chose to be a little bitch. It diverted suspicion away from what he spent most of his waking nights doing. And yet, he felt… empty. Like something was missing. Maybe he spent too much time as Bruce Wayne. Or maybe it was the opposite.
Anyways, he was headed to the GCPD to be a public disturbance. Of course, he would be a calculated public disturbance. The real reason for his trip to the GCPD was to gather intel. Gordon had come to him about a potential mole in the precinct, and asked him to discreetly monitor the officers. Batman was not discreet. Neither was Bruce Wayne, but at least no one knew that Bruce Wayne could sucker punch them into oblivion.
So that was the reason why Alfred was driving them into the grey, grey city in a black, black car, dodging traffic and politely cursing the absolute atrocities that were committed by the drivers of Gotham on the daily.
Of course, it was just their luck that when they arrived it was absolute chaos. Bruce was not a betting man, but he was willing to bet the entirety of Wayne Enterprises that the Joker was behind it. It would make sense. The Joker was a psychopath, with no moral compass to speak of. Or, Bruce thought, perhaps he had too much of a moral compass.
Gotham cops, and even cops in general, were not the most compassionate of creatures. Maybe this was the Joker’s twisted sense of justice. But it was not his job to psychoanalyze his arch-nemesis. Although, it wasn’t like the shrinks at Arkham were doing a good job of it.
Bruce shook himself. Gotham needed him; what was he doing thinking about the Joker’s motivations? That sort of thinking was reserved for the Batcave, and if Bruce were being completely honest with himself, his bed. Now was not the time.
“Alfred,” he said, voice slipping so naturally into that gravelly growl, “Is there a Batsuit anywhere close to here?”
Alfred glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
“Sir, do you even have to ask? I would have thought you had every location of every Batsuit memorized.”
“I’m a Bat, Alfred, not a computer,” Bruce replied dryly.
“I have one in the trunk, sir. Should I drive towards the nearest safehouse? Or mayhaps an alley?”
“Alley will be fine. Our main priority is protecting the people.”
Then, somehow, impossibly, things got even weirder. Well, perhaps not so weird for Gotham, but definitely weird by literally anybody else’s standards. The Joker was on a pedestal, rising above the chaos below like an angel. An angel in a wedding dress wielding a flamethrower.
Miles away, Superman heard a chorus of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck” from Gotham. That was a rare occurrence; nobody in Gotham was disturbed by anything. Until now. Clark paused. Should he go investigate? No, Batman probably had things under control. Besides, he thought, punching a robot, he had his own problems.
Back in Gotham, the Joker was having a roaring time at the GCPD. Everybody was confused and hysterical, which was just the way he liked it. He signaled to Harley, who turned on the speakers attached to the trucks his henchmen had ridden in.
“Good morning, Gotham!” he yelled, his voice amplified by the lapel mic on his breast, “Are y’all having a lovely time?”
“No!” the people of Gotham yelled back, on fire and spiteful.
“Well, alright then. Would you like all of this mayhem to stop?”
“Yes?” yelled the people of Gotham, on fire and suspicious.
“Well then I only ask for one thing, dear Gothamites. I want…” Joker paused. Make them wait for it…
“Batman’s hand in marriage!”
Boom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Batman in question was halfway through putting on the Batsuit when he heard the shocking declaration. Now, Batman of course did not freeze in shock. The only time Batman was frozen was when Mr. Freeze scored a lucky hit. What he was currently doing was… analyzing the situation. While not moving. With his mind completely blank. It certainly did not take Alfred getting out of the car and slapping him across the face to get him to move again. It was five minutes before Batman burst onto the scene of the decimated GCPD, and everything was still on fire. Fucking typical. Only now the Joker was using his flamethrower (was it bedazzled?) to burn down the entire precinct. And the firefighters were trying to get through a blockade of stolen, armored trucks.
“Fuck,” Bruce whispered under his breath. Then he said it a little louder for good measure. Joker was speaking again, having caught sight of him.
“Batsy, my darling, did you hear my proposal? You marry me, and I’ll stop terrorizing Gotham!”
“Over my dead body. You’re insane!” Batman shouted back, though he was barely audible above the sounds of general mayhem.
“Maybe so, but this is an offer that’s too good to pass up, don’tcha think?”
Bruce stopped and thought about it. Personal sacrifice had never meant anything to him. He had given up any semblance of a normal life the moment he put on the cowl. And marriage to the Joker came with an end to his reign of terror. Who knew when an offer like this would come again? And, who knew what the Joker’s retaliation would be if he refused? Oh, fuck. Was he really doing this?
He was. He found himself scaling the demolished precinct, trying to get up to the Joker’s level. Or, metaphorically, stooping down to it. Either way, soon he found himself standing on the Joker’s pedestal, gazing upon him in all his wedding dress and flamethrower glory. Fuck, he was beautiful.
Wait, did he really just think that? Well, said a tiny, sarcastic part of his brain, he is your future husband. Oh, fuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I accept your proposal,” Batman growled at him, looking both angry and nervous at the same time. Damn, that was a look. Wait, did Batsy just say yes? Joker gaped in shock. He hadn’t actually expected this to work. Batsy looked nervous, and Joker would bet his entire criminal empire that he did too. God, they really were a pair of idiots, weren’t they?
“Hey, boss!” Harley shouted up to them.
“Oh, thank God,” he and Batsy said. In unison.
“Wow, we’re practically an old married couple already, Batsy!” Joker joked as they watched Harley get closer to them, dragging a harried justice of the peace behind her.
“Don’t push it,” Batman warned, a tic forming in his jaw.
“Alright, my love,” Joker purred. Oh, this could be rather fun. He’d be able to mess with his Bat as much as he wanted once they were married. Which would be very soon. Oh wow. He and Batsy would be married. As in, till death do us part.
Or maybe not. The Justice of the peace had apparently broken free of Harley's grasp, and was now taking to the hills along with the rest of the populace. Smart guy, Joker thought. Or not, since Harley appeared to be in pursuit.
"So, we're getting… married right now? You're not going to try and court me first?" Batsy said, and was it the Joker's imagination or did he look put out? Well, that simply would not do. He only wanted the best for his Bat.
"Why, Batsy, what do you call all of our midnight trysts?" he replied, hoping to assuage his beloved.
"You consider trying to kill each other foreplay?" And oh, wow, was that a bit of sardonic humor in Batsy's voice?
"Why, yes I do! Would you rather I took you out to dinner? I, ah, don't quite think that would be received all too well, Bruce Wayne in a fancy restaurant with the Joker. People might talk."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bruce gaped.
"How the hell do you know who I am? And why the hell did you say that so loud! Isn't your mic still running? Oh my fucking God, what is wrong with- wait, no, that's a stupid question," Bruce was well aware that he was rambling, but it was definitely justified because his insane arch-nemesis knew his secret identity!
"Relax, baby, I already disabled the mic. And it wasn't that hard to figure out your 'secret identity.' Bruce Wayne is the only person in Gotham with enough money to fund this kind of endeavor and a tragic enough backstory to warrant it. I'm insane, not an idiot," Joker said.
Bruce relaxed, if only slightly. This could actually work to his advantage, if he played his cards right (pun intended). Joker had never come after him in his civilian persona. Maybe that was a sign of trust between them? Bruce mentally shook himself. How could he ever trust the Joker?
You’re trusting him enough to marry him, that sadistic voice inside him whispered.
“Oh, motherfucker,” Bruce groaned, feeling a headache coming on.
“What’s wrong, dearest?” Joker asked, looking for all the world like a concerned bride-to-be, and wasn’t that a scary thought?
“What the fuck do you think is wrong, Joker, I’m marrying an insane clown with a penchant for extravagant murder sprees,” he snapped. This situation was getting too ridiculous even for Gotham, they were thirty feet in the air and the Joker was wearing a wedding dress. He was allowed to be a little angry. Angry at what, he didn’t know. Angry at the world, the Joker, himself; it was all the same thing.
He found himself staring at the Joker, almost accusingly. Though Bruce was loath to admit it, Joker did look stunning.
“Batsy, not to alarm you, but we have a wedding to...perform? Do? Is that the right word? Either way we’re getting hitched. Come on, you can look at me during the honeymoon, God, this corset is tight.”
Joker lowered the platform they had been standing on, which really was too small for two grown men, and began to walk towards his Lamborghini, Bruce awkwardly following him.
"Where are we going?" Bruce found himself asking against his better judgement.
"To where the ceremony is being held. Did you really think I'd marry you in the ruins of a police station? Not really my, ah, style, wouldn't you say?"
Bruce had to admit he was right. Joker's style was much more… gauche. It was something to be appreciated. Almost.
They approached the car, Joker sliding easily into the driver's seat. Bruce walked around to the passenger side, feeling vulnerable.
Christ, he was getting married. To his arch-nemesis. That was knowledge that would probably never sink in fully. How was this his life? He was in a car, a Lamborghini no less, with the Joker driving them to their wedding. Their fucking wedding. Bruce was panicked. No, no; not panicked. Batman did not get panicked. He was a calm, collected figure of justice, and he should damn well act like it. That didn't stop his stomach from twisting into knots. God, he really was like a bride on her wedding day.
Would Joker expect them to consummate their marriage? Ice flooded his veins. Bruce may be into men and women, but he had never once had relations with another man. He had fantasized, of course, imagined strong hands on his hips and a thick cock in his ass, but he had never acted upon the desires that left him tangled in his sheets, panting. But now… he was getting married. And the Joker was a man. Who was most likely in love with him, however much sense that made. Maybe now…
No. He would not submit to the scourge of Gotham for something as base as desire. He never had, and never would. But would he if it were for the good of Gotham? What if this was the only way to save his city? Joker had promised to stop his villainous ways if Bruce accepted his proposal, and he had. Wouldn't such a union between them, however complicated, ultimately do only good? And perhaps, if he played his cards right, he would never have to sleep with the Joker.
The bastard part of his brain told him that this was bullshit. He happily ignored that part of his brain and stared at the Joker. The white of his wedding dress was almost paler than his skin, and the purple accents were entirely typical, yet also somehow… alluring. The dress was sleeveless, and Bruce spent five minutes trying to figure out what laws of physics allowed it to stay in place. Eventually he realized that Joker was wearing a corset that had to be crushing his ribs. Bruce wanted, for just a moment, to take it off of him. To loosen the vice that had to be uncomfortable, had to be unpleasant. To ease, to soothe. That thought, that want, scared him more than anything else that had happened today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things were going perfectly. Almost too perfectly. Surely it couldn't be this easy? Joker wasn't paranoid, but surely Batman had something up his gauntleted sleeve. He always did. Batman may have been one of the smartest people on the planet, but he was also about as observant as a brick wall. There was absolutely no way in hell that Batsy had realized his feelings that fast.
Oh god, this was a sacrifice play, wasn't it? Instead of actually confronting his feelings, he was rationalizing what he was doing. Well. That certainly would not do.
They had arrived at the venue, chosen specifically for its sentimentality. It was the Gotham Bank, specifically the rooftop. He glanced at the Bat, trying to gauge his reaction. He had become rather good at reading his expressions, even concealed as he was under the cowl.
Batman, no, Bruce, was speechless. For a moment, anyways.
“This-this was where we first met,” he said, softly, almost reverent. Joker felt something in his chest give way and shatter. Bruce liked it. He had done well. He smiled, a soft thing, so unlike his usual, mania-induced grin. He looked at Bruce, who was looking at him. This was the man he loved. This was the man he was going to give up villainy for. This was the man he was going to marry. He had never been so sure of anything. Goddamnit, he was in love with Bruce Wayne, the Bat of Gotham, and he was going to shout it from the rooftops. Literally. He offered his arm to his Bat.
"Shall we?"
Batman hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, but then he took Joker's arm, and up they went.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Everything was going absolutely perfectly. They were scaling the Gotham Bank, with him in Batsy’s arms. Thank god he didn’t mention the staircase that led up to the roof. Or, thank god that Batsy knew about the staircase and didn’t want to use it anyways. Either way, everything was working out absolutely fantastically. He rather liked being pressed close to Bruce, arms around that strong, bulky frame, so unlike his wiry one, and Harley’s voluptuous curves. Batman was solid. It was nice.
When they finally reached the roof, he found his surprise for Batsy waiting for them. All of their friends were there. His bridesmaids- Harley, her wife Ivy, and Selina- were stunning in their violet dresses. He had taken the liberty of, ah, not exactly kidnapping, but rather… violently persuading the various Batboys to act as the groomsmen. They looked murderous, which was not ideal, but he could work with it. At least he didn't have to gag them. And really, they could get out of their handcuffs easily. He had seen them all do it before; they were perfectly capable of escape. And yet they weren’t. He wondered why.
In the seats lining the aisle were Gotham’s finest criminals, all dressed in their Sunday best. Scarecrow’s burlap looked especially nice, and did the Penguin have a new suit tailored for the occasion? Even Bruce’s loyal butler, Alfred, was there, looking altogether quite calm for a senior citizen surrounded by dangerous supervillains.
“Batman!” Grayson called out, almost leaving from his spot as the best man. It was cute how he was still trying to hide his mentor's identity.
"Nightwing," Batman growled out, looking uncomfortable,
"What are you doing here?"
"I was going to ask the same about you," the Boy Wonder replied with a smirk that almost belied his unease.
“I’m doing what’s best for Gotham,” Bruce said, and what Joker wouldn’t give to see under that alluring cowl to see the expressions flit across his face.
“Doing what’s best for Gotham my ass,” Jason Todd, the infamous Red Hood said from where he was standing,
“You two have been flirting with each other since day one. Y’all just need to bone.”
Batman spluttered for a moment, then said,
“ Bone!? Bone!? How dare you- wait a minute, didn’t he kill you?” Bruce said, incredulous.
“Yeah, but I got better,” Todd said, looking much more nonchalant than he usually did. But, then again, this isn’t supposed to be an angsty story, is it?
Everyone decided to just go with it. Good.
“I, ah, hate to interrupt this lovely father-son moment here, but we do have a wedding to do, right darling?” Joker said. He was growing just the tiniest bit impatient. He wanted to be married, dammit!
Batsy, to his credit, had the manners to look abashed. Wow, he had now seen more expressions on Bruce’s face today than he had in all their time together thus far. Joker extended his arm to his love.
“Shall we?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking motherfucking fuck
Alarm bells were ringing in Bruce’s head. This wedding was happening right the fuck now! Jesus fucking hell. Holy shit. He must look like a total idiot right now, but he was allowed to be a bit concerned! Joker was waiting for him, arm outstretched. Bruce grabbed it, his brain on autopilot. Or, not on autopilot, the pilot was there, but said pilot was almost certainly having a panic attack and quite possibly going into cardiac arrest.
They were walking down the aisle.
They were at the altar.
The justice of the peace was there now, a bit more bruised than he had been the last time Bruce had seen him.
Everything was muted; he was swimming through noise and panic with the peace of a drowned man. All he could hear was a dull roar, that is until Dick slapped him on the shoulder. Suddenly, everything slipped back into focus.
“... Into this - these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together - let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” the justice said, his voice wavering only slightly. Damian looked to object, but was held back by Tim. Bruce was somehow grateful.
“And now, would you speak your vows?” the justice said, glancing nervously around.
“I shall,” Joker said, looking suddenly solemn.
“Batsy, from the moment I met you, on this very rooftop, I knew you were the one. No one but you had ever been able to bring out the best in me the way you have. Whether we were fighting or flirting, I always felt complete. And now I want to be complete with you, officially.”
That was- unexpected. Bruce honestly hadn’t thought the Joker was capable of feeling things, at least not things like- no, he refused to say it. Everyone was staring at him, why was that?
Oh. He had to speak his vows. What the hell was he going to do now? He had no idea what to say. He was Batman, he didn’t need words; a well placed glare was usually enough to portray his meaning no matter who he was speaking to. He cleared his throat.
“Joker,” he began, “I- I don’t really know what to say. This entire situation is completely ridiculous, but I mean what situation with you isn’t? I guess it’s just a part of your charm.” Oh fuck, did he really just call the Joker charming? He glanced over at his children and, yep, they had definitely caught that. Even Damian looked smug. Okay Bruce, deep breaths. You just have to get through this then this whole nightmare will be over. Well, said that little voice in his head, damn that voice, it really will have only just begun.
“Joker, while I admit the circumstances of this are not exactly typical, I really don’t think any kind of wedding with either of us could be. I almost hate to admit it, but you bring out the best in me, and I can only hope that in the future I can bring out the best in you,” he finished. That should be enough, right? He looked at Joker, and almost froze. The Joker was smiling, but not his normal, maniacal smile. It was soft, and hopeful, and it made something in Bruce’s chest crack open. Oh, fuck.
The justice of the peace, still looking terrified out of his wits, seemed to gather himself enough to say,
“You- you may now kiss the groom.”
Bruce didn’t even have time to panic.