Batman Fic - Scout's Honor
Dec. 5th, 2011 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shinysylverTitle: Scout's Honor
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shinysylver
Characters/Pairing: Joker, Batman (gen)
Word Count: 684
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any version of Batman.
Warning: some blood
Universe: Nolanverse
Summary: Joker doesn't want Batman to actually die.
Author's Note:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo 2011: Wild Card: Forced to Rely on Enemy / Rival. I thought it would be appropriate to use a Joker related fill for my Wild Card spot. *g* Much thanks to jesseofthenorth for the quick beta.
No. No, this wasn’t right. Bats wasn’t supposed to be hurt. Not really. Keeping his eyes fixed on Batman’s slumped form, Joker absently slashed out, digging his knife into the belly of the man next him and twisting.
“Boss?” the man asked in confusion, his gun dropping to the ground with a clatter.
“You weren’t supposed to actually kill him,” Joker yelled at the idiot and pushed him away. He watched the blood bubble out of the man’s stomach as he slid the knife out. It was a pretty red.
Once the man hit the ground Joker turned his attention back to more important things. “I’m sorry about that, Bats, but it’s so hard to find good help these days.”
Batman opened his mouth, probably to spout some ridiculous threat that he was in no position to follow through on, but Joker quickly knelt down and placed his hand over Batman’s mouth. “Uh, uh, none of that. No talking until the nurse has looked you over.”
Batman glared at Joker, his eyes hard despite his injuries. That was a good sign. Joker slowly removed his hand, amused by the red smear the blood on his hand had left over Batman’s lips. He took a moment to trace the line of Batman’s lips, making the blood streak darker and more like his own grease paint smile. As Joker’s fingers trailed back over Batman’s mouth a second time Batman growled and snapped his teeth barely missing Joker’s pointer finger.
“Alright, already,” Joker muttered. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”
“You’re going back to Arkham,” Batman wheezed, trying to reach his utility belt.
Joker rolled his eyes. “It’s the same old schtick with you. You could really use some new material.” He removed the belt and tossed it out of reach and then began to run his hands over Batman’s sides, trying to figure out how to remove the suit. “How do I get this off?”
Batman didn’t say anything.
“You have two options,” Joker said. “You can either tell me how to remove it or I’ll cut it off.” He paused as his fingers found a wet patch under Batman’s arm, near what felt like latches. “On second thought, I think it’ll be more fun if I just cut it.”
Joker carefully slid his sharpest knife under the latches, slicing through them easily. He pulled the plate and Kevlar back and cut through the body suit underneath until he could clearly see the bullet wound that must have been from one hell of a lucky shot to have avoided most of the armor.
He sat back and stared at Batman. “Gunshot wound, broken ribs, and it looks like something is puncturing your lung.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Batman muttered his voice weak.
“You are a very ungrateful man do you know that?” Joker took off his jacket—his favorite jacket—and used his knife to cut strips off of the bottom.
“I said tell me something I don’t already know.”
Joker jerked his head up. “A joke! Why Bats, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Blood loss,” Batman said.
Joker grinned. “Can you lean forward? I need to wrap your ribs.” Batman glanced warily at the knife, so Joker set it aside and held up three fingers. “Scout's honor.”
Batman raised an eyebrow. “Girl scouts?”
“I’m sure they’re honest too.”
Batman chuckled, wincing at the strain on his chest. He managed to lean forward far enough for Joker to slip the strips of the jacket around his torso. After the ribs were wrapped and tied tightly Joker pressed the rest of his coat to the bleeding bullet wound.
“You’ve called for help?” Joker asked.
Batman nodded and they sat together in silence, Joker keeping pressure on Batman’s wound, until a car pulled up to the entrance of the alley.
“A Rolls Royce?” Joker lifted Batman’s hand to replace his and stood up, slipping back into the shadows. “How interesting.”
Batman didn’t say anything but he inclined his head slightly in Joker’s direction.
“You’re welcome, Bats,” Joker whispered as he turned the corner.
Author:
shinysylverCharacters/Pairing: Joker, Batman (gen)
Word Count: 684
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any version of Batman.
Warning: some blood
Universe: Nolanverse
Summary: Joker doesn't want Batman to actually die.
Author's Note:
hc_bingo 2011: Wild Card: Forced to Rely on Enemy / Rival. I thought it would be appropriate to use a Joker related fill for my Wild Card spot. *g* Much thanks to jesseofthenorth for the quick beta.No. No, this wasn’t right. Bats wasn’t supposed to be hurt. Not really. Keeping his eyes fixed on Batman’s slumped form, Joker absently slashed out, digging his knife into the belly of the man next him and twisting.
“Boss?” the man asked in confusion, his gun dropping to the ground with a clatter.
“You weren’t supposed to actually kill him,” Joker yelled at the idiot and pushed him away. He watched the blood bubble out of the man’s stomach as he slid the knife out. It was a pretty red.
Once the man hit the ground Joker turned his attention back to more important things. “I’m sorry about that, Bats, but it’s so hard to find good help these days.”
Batman opened his mouth, probably to spout some ridiculous threat that he was in no position to follow through on, but Joker quickly knelt down and placed his hand over Batman’s mouth. “Uh, uh, none of that. No talking until the nurse has looked you over.”
Batman glared at Joker, his eyes hard despite his injuries. That was a good sign. Joker slowly removed his hand, amused by the red smear the blood on his hand had left over Batman’s lips. He took a moment to trace the line of Batman’s lips, making the blood streak darker and more like his own grease paint smile. As Joker’s fingers trailed back over Batman’s mouth a second time Batman growled and snapped his teeth barely missing Joker’s pointer finger.
“Alright, already,” Joker muttered. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”
“You’re going back to Arkham,” Batman wheezed, trying to reach his utility belt.
Joker rolled his eyes. “It’s the same old schtick with you. You could really use some new material.” He removed the belt and tossed it out of reach and then began to run his hands over Batman’s sides, trying to figure out how to remove the suit. “How do I get this off?”
Batman didn’t say anything.
“You have two options,” Joker said. “You can either tell me how to remove it or I’ll cut it off.” He paused as his fingers found a wet patch under Batman’s arm, near what felt like latches. “On second thought, I think it’ll be more fun if I just cut it.”
Joker carefully slid his sharpest knife under the latches, slicing through them easily. He pulled the plate and Kevlar back and cut through the body suit underneath until he could clearly see the bullet wound that must have been from one hell of a lucky shot to have avoided most of the armor.
He sat back and stared at Batman. “Gunshot wound, broken ribs, and it looks like something is puncturing your lung.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Batman muttered his voice weak.
“You are a very ungrateful man do you know that?” Joker took off his jacket—his favorite jacket—and used his knife to cut strips off of the bottom.
“I said tell me something I don’t already know.”
Joker jerked his head up. “A joke! Why Bats, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Blood loss,” Batman said.
Joker grinned. “Can you lean forward? I need to wrap your ribs.” Batman glanced warily at the knife, so Joker set it aside and held up three fingers. “Scout's honor.”
Batman raised an eyebrow. “Girl scouts?”
“I’m sure they’re honest too.”
Batman chuckled, wincing at the strain on his chest. He managed to lean forward far enough for Joker to slip the strips of the jacket around his torso. After the ribs were wrapped and tied tightly Joker pressed the rest of his coat to the bleeding bullet wound.
“You’ve called for help?” Joker asked.
Batman nodded and they sat together in silence, Joker keeping pressure on Batman’s wound, until a car pulled up to the entrance of the alley.
“A Rolls Royce?” Joker lifted Batman’s hand to replace his and stood up, slipping back into the shadows. “How interesting.”
Batman didn’t say anything but he inclined his head slightly in Joker’s direction.
“You’re welcome, Bats,” Joker whispered as he turned the corner.
