Joke, what joke? - J2 one shot with art
Sep. 21st, 2015 10:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amberdreamsOnce upon a time 
quickreaver and 
riyku set up a special community for the lovely, talented petite_madame, aimed at showing her some love after a shitty year. There is some awesome art and fic on there, go check it out!
My contribution was inspired by THIS picture of Jensen as Harley Quinn. So I thought...this would make Jared the Joker, right? Herewith a little story and some art.
quickreaver and riyku set up a special community for the lovely, talented petite_madame, aimed at showing her some love after a shitty year. There is some awesome art and fic on there, go check it out!My contribution was inspired by THIS picture of Jensen as Harley Quinn. So I thought...this would make Jared the Joker, right? Herewith a little story and some art.
Ficlet beta'd by sophiap and septembers_coda. Art beta'd by quickreaver. Inspiration - petite_madame's wonderful art.
Joke, what Joke?
sophiap and septembers_coda. Art beta'd by quickreaver. Inspiration - petite_madame's wonderful art.Joke, what Joke?
The Joker and Harley Quinn – people called their relationship fucked up, and maybe they were right. Jared often joked that theirs was a marriage made in Hell (yeah, well, joking was his job description, right?), but he’d never thought Hell would come to visit them here on the rooftop of Ace Chemicals in Gotham City. Jared had planned this evening so carefully – the glorious irony of turning the place that had transformed him into the Joker into the scene of his greatest triumph had been too perfect to pass up.
Ha, right. Best laid plans, huh? Of course he should have known Batman would turn up to foil them once again.
So instead of celebrating, he was holding Harley Quinn’s motionless body in his arms, unable to even take a moment to grieve for his fallen love, because that cursed Caped Crusader was advancing on them again, ready to deal out the coup de grace.
Jared gritted his teeth. Jensen’s weight, together with the under-structure of the water tower Batman had brought down on both of them, was pinning their lower bodies so he couldn’t move. With a helpless grimace fixed on his painted face, he waited for the inevitable moralizing monologue before Batman would send his (very fine) ass to Arkham Asylum again. This time there would be no Jensen Ackles, psychiatrist, working there to save the Joker from the depths of despair. Jared could already feel the madness tugging at the edges of his mind, unravelling him. He couldn’t find anything remotely funny in the prospect of interminable years stretching ahead of him without his beautiful Harley Quinn. Jensen was the only thing worth clinging to sanity for.
Just as desolation threatened to suck Jared under, two fortuitous things happened. The first was the Bat Sign illuminating the dark clouds behind Batman’s head, which was timely, but the second was more momentous, because Jared distinctly felt Jensen’s heart take a stuttering beat. Now that he knew Jensen was alive, Jared felt the air lighten. Where it had been pressing down with the viscosity of molasses, suddenly it was breathable again.
“Hey, Batsy, your phone’s ringing…” and Jared trilled like a cell phone and pointed at the Bat silhouette. The red-painted smear of a smile on Jared’s whitened face was now matched by a genuine grin that was pure Joker. The musclebound bane of their lives halted his advance, and Jared watched that square jaw get even boxier as the implication of the Bat Signal sank in. Of course, being Batman, he didn’t swear, but Jared thought he could hear those Bat teeth grinding as he swirled that stupid cloak around, ready to leave.
“This isn’t over, Joker,” Batman said, so full of righteous anger, but Jared rather thought it was, at least for now. His grin felt like it was splitting his face in half as he watched Batman grab hold of a cable and zip-line his leathery butt down off the building and into the night.
“Fuckin’ do-gooder,” Jensen said. His voice was faint, and rasping worse than a metal file on a hub-cap, but Jared had never heard a more musical sound. “’S ’e gone?”
“Yeah, Harley, the fucker bailed on us. Got an invite to a better party, I guess.”
“That’s right, darling. Did you like my invitation, boys?” A feminine voice came from the shadows, closely followed by the slim figure of Poison Ivy, aka Felicia Day. Jared tried to be pleased to see her, and failed, as usual.
He listened impatiently as she explained her ruse, while she attempted to move the debris pinning them both down – and even Jared had to acknowledge the simple genius of her idea.
“So when I saw you boys were in trouble, and knew I wasn’t going to be able to reach you in time, I just called 911 like this…” Her voice lifted to a thin, desperate wail. “Oh, please! You’ve gotta help us! There are masked men with guns, and bombs, and they’re holding us hostage in the vaults of the bank, they say they are gonna blow us all sky high if you don’t send Batman to save us…”
Jensen managed a little snort of a laugh at that. He’d been fading in and out while Poison Ivy looked for a lever that would shift the tangle of metal bars that were preventing Jared from being able to do much, other than hold tight and hope Jensen wasn’t as badly hurt as he feared. He supposed they were lucky the water tank full of the chemicals that he’d been going to use to contaminate Gotham’s water supplies had spilled in the opposite direction, or their plight wouldn’t have been worth thinking about. Batman would have called it justice, no doubt.
“How ya doin’, Harley my dear?” Ivy asked, reaching out a slim hand to brush Jensen’s hair back off his pale, sweating face. Jared just managed to stop himself lashing out. Harley Quinn belonged to him, nobody else was allowed to touch, only the Joker.
“‘M okay, Red,” Jensen said quickly, and Jared knew he was aiming to defuse the situation. “Gettin’ a bit bored of the view from down here, though. Any chance we can hurry this up a bit?” Jensen let his head fall back against Jared’s shoulder, the weight of him a silent message showing Jared he understood, that he’d felt Jared’s muscles tense up and there was no reason to worry. Jared caught Poison Ivy’s sympathetic glance and winced a little. This is what that interfering Bat-freak did to him – reduced him to a pathetic heap of neuroses, stuck under the detritus of his own failed plans, completely reliant on a chlorophyllic nature-freak for help.
“Okay, boys, hang tight now. I’m gonna call up a little help here,” said the aforementioned green-skinned nature-lover. Jared had to let go his antagonism when he saw the effort Ivy was putting into getting him and his boy free. Well, ok, that was a lie; he could hang onto it forever, but he’d make an effort to tamp it down a bit until after she’d succeeded, and he had Jensen safe and sound where he belonged, back in Jared’s bed.
Felicia’s plants, sluggish at night, were slow to rouse, but eventually Jared could see movement. Long tendrils of ivy (appropriately enough) crept up and over the edges of the rooftop, forming a darker mass against the night sky. Jared whispered soft sweet nothings into Jensen’s ear, holding him as gently as he could while the plants did their work, twining round the twisted metal and dragging it away. The lack of weight hurt almost worse as blood flowed back into numb limbs, but Jared was more concerned about Jensen, who had gasped once before slumping against Jared as if his bones had dissolved the moment the pressure was lifted.
Jared’s recollections of the next hour or so were hazy impressions – of allowing Felicia to usher him down from the roof, staggering with Jensen’s dead weight in his arms; of rain falling, the glittering drops caught in Jensen’s closed lashes and running down his face like tears; of arriving, somehow, washed clean of disguises, at the small private clinic run by a friend of Felicia’s from before she turned poisonous; of someone trying to take Jensen from his arms (not going to happen, not ever) and then laying next to Jensen on a too small hospital bed while continuing to mutter loving words into Jensen’s unconsciousness– the kind of words he’d never normally say.
He must have slept eventually, because when he opened his eyes they felt like he’d been using tequila for eyewash and he had a massive crick in his neck. It was daylight, and Jensen was propped up in the bed, staring down at Jared’s sleep-rumpled face with an expression that could only be described as fond.
“You’re awake,” was Jared’s first and not his most intelligent remark, but he wasn’t really in the mood for sparkling repartee after the night they’d had. The memory of it came flooding back in a rush that had him sitting up too quickly, clinging to the edge of Jensen’s bed to fight of a wave of dizziness. When he turned around, Jensen was shaking an admonishing finger at him and smiling.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m floating on the good stuff right now. Apparently it’s just a couple of broken ribs, mild concussion and a fractured left fibula. How are you feeling?”
How was Jared feeling? It was a good question. Mostly fucking angry, he concluded.
“You flung yourself in front of me,” Jared pointed out, frowning. “When that masked madman brought the tower down, you pushed me backwards and got in the way of it. You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Jensen’s pale cheeks took on a hectic flush and he glanced sideways in embarrassment. Jared wasn’t having any of it. He reached out and turned Jensen’s head back. Keeping his big hands cupped around Jensen’s face, Jared leaned in to press a bruising hard kiss onto those beautiful full lips. He didn’t stop until they were both breathless.
Jensen winced as he leaned back against the stacked up pillows, staring at Jared from under heavy lidded eyes. The thin hospital blankets did nothing to conceal the evidence of his arousal, and Jared grinned.
“Oh you fucking joker, getting me all riled up when I can’t move,” Jensen whined, but Jared ignored him, peeling back the covers and exposing Jensen’s naked torso. Jared hissed in contained fury as he took in the mottled bruising on Jensen’s smooth, hairless chest. The hiss turned into a gasp when the injured man took one of Jared’s hands and dragged it down over the patchwork of discoloured skin that had turned Jensen into the embodiment of his alter ego – a harlequin. Their hands moved together downwards, following the bruising down to the trail of hair that led to where Jensen’s cock was straining up against the sheets.
Jared freed it, his smile turning feral. He licked his lips in anticipation.
“Mine,” he said, looking up at Jensen’s face, turned desperate with wanting.
“Yours,” Jensen agreed. “My Clown Prince of Crime.”
Ha, right. Best laid plans, huh? Of course he should have known Batman would turn up to foil them once again.
So instead of celebrating, he was holding Harley Quinn’s motionless body in his arms, unable to even take a moment to grieve for his fallen love, because that cursed Caped Crusader was advancing on them again, ready to deal out the coup de grace.
Jared gritted his teeth. Jensen’s weight, together with the under-structure of the water tower Batman had brought down on both of them, was pinning their lower bodies so he couldn’t move. With a helpless grimace fixed on his painted face, he waited for the inevitable moralizing monologue before Batman would send his (very fine) ass to Arkham Asylum again. This time there would be no Jensen Ackles, psychiatrist, working there to save the Joker from the depths of despair. Jared could already feel the madness tugging at the edges of his mind, unravelling him. He couldn’t find anything remotely funny in the prospect of interminable years stretching ahead of him without his beautiful Harley Quinn. Jensen was the only thing worth clinging to sanity for.
Just as desolation threatened to suck Jared under, two fortuitous things happened. The first was the Bat Sign illuminating the dark clouds behind Batman’s head, which was timely, but the second was more momentous, because Jared distinctly felt Jensen’s heart take a stuttering beat. Now that he knew Jensen was alive, Jared felt the air lighten. Where it had been pressing down with the viscosity of molasses, suddenly it was breathable again.
“Hey, Batsy, your phone’s ringing…” and Jared trilled like a cell phone and pointed at the Bat silhouette. The red-painted smear of a smile on Jared’s whitened face was now matched by a genuine grin that was pure Joker. The musclebound bane of their lives halted his advance, and Jared watched that square jaw get even boxier as the implication of the Bat Signal sank in. Of course, being Batman, he didn’t swear, but Jared thought he could hear those Bat teeth grinding as he swirled that stupid cloak around, ready to leave.
“This isn’t over, Joker,” Batman said, so full of righteous anger, but Jared rather thought it was, at least for now. His grin felt like it was splitting his face in half as he watched Batman grab hold of a cable and zip-line his leathery butt down off the building and into the night.
“Fuckin’ do-gooder,” Jensen said. His voice was faint, and rasping worse than a metal file on a hub-cap, but Jared had never heard a more musical sound. “’S ’e gone?”
“Yeah, Harley, the fucker bailed on us. Got an invite to a better party, I guess.”
“That’s right, darling. Did you like my invitation, boys?” A feminine voice came from the shadows, closely followed by the slim figure of Poison Ivy, aka Felicia Day. Jared tried to be pleased to see her, and failed, as usual.
He listened impatiently as she explained her ruse, while she attempted to move the debris pinning them both down – and even Jared had to acknowledge the simple genius of her idea.
“So when I saw you boys were in trouble, and knew I wasn’t going to be able to reach you in time, I just called 911 like this…” Her voice lifted to a thin, desperate wail. “Oh, please! You’ve gotta help us! There are masked men with guns, and bombs, and they’re holding us hostage in the vaults of the bank, they say they are gonna blow us all sky high if you don’t send Batman to save us…”
Jensen managed a little snort of a laugh at that. He’d been fading in and out while Poison Ivy looked for a lever that would shift the tangle of metal bars that were preventing Jared from being able to do much, other than hold tight and hope Jensen wasn’t as badly hurt as he feared. He supposed they were lucky the water tank full of the chemicals that he’d been going to use to contaminate Gotham’s water supplies had spilled in the opposite direction, or their plight wouldn’t have been worth thinking about. Batman would have called it justice, no doubt.
“How ya doin’, Harley my dear?” Ivy asked, reaching out a slim hand to brush Jensen’s hair back off his pale, sweating face. Jared just managed to stop himself lashing out. Harley Quinn belonged to him, nobody else was allowed to touch, only the Joker.
“‘M okay, Red,” Jensen said quickly, and Jared knew he was aiming to defuse the situation. “Gettin’ a bit bored of the view from down here, though. Any chance we can hurry this up a bit?” Jensen let his head fall back against Jared’s shoulder, the weight of him a silent message showing Jared he understood, that he’d felt Jared’s muscles tense up and there was no reason to worry. Jared caught Poison Ivy’s sympathetic glance and winced a little. This is what that interfering Bat-freak did to him – reduced him to a pathetic heap of neuroses, stuck under the detritus of his own failed plans, completely reliant on a chlorophyllic nature-freak for help.
“Okay, boys, hang tight now. I’m gonna call up a little help here,” said the aforementioned green-skinned nature-lover. Jared had to let go his antagonism when he saw the effort Ivy was putting into getting him and his boy free. Well, ok, that was a lie; he could hang onto it forever, but he’d make an effort to tamp it down a bit until after she’d succeeded, and he had Jensen safe and sound where he belonged, back in Jared’s bed.
Felicia’s plants, sluggish at night, were slow to rouse, but eventually Jared could see movement. Long tendrils of ivy (appropriately enough) crept up and over the edges of the rooftop, forming a darker mass against the night sky. Jared whispered soft sweet nothings into Jensen’s ear, holding him as gently as he could while the plants did their work, twining round the twisted metal and dragging it away. The lack of weight hurt almost worse as blood flowed back into numb limbs, but Jared was more concerned about Jensen, who had gasped once before slumping against Jared as if his bones had dissolved the moment the pressure was lifted.
Jared’s recollections of the next hour or so were hazy impressions – of allowing Felicia to usher him down from the roof, staggering with Jensen’s dead weight in his arms; of rain falling, the glittering drops caught in Jensen’s closed lashes and running down his face like tears; of arriving, somehow, washed clean of disguises, at the small private clinic run by a friend of Felicia’s from before she turned poisonous; of someone trying to take Jensen from his arms (not going to happen, not ever) and then laying next to Jensen on a too small hospital bed while continuing to mutter loving words into Jensen’s unconsciousness– the kind of words he’d never normally say.
He must have slept eventually, because when he opened his eyes they felt like he’d been using tequila for eyewash and he had a massive crick in his neck. It was daylight, and Jensen was propped up in the bed, staring down at Jared’s sleep-rumpled face with an expression that could only be described as fond.
“You’re awake,” was Jared’s first and not his most intelligent remark, but he wasn’t really in the mood for sparkling repartee after the night they’d had. The memory of it came flooding back in a rush that had him sitting up too quickly, clinging to the edge of Jensen’s bed to fight of a wave of dizziness. When he turned around, Jensen was shaking an admonishing finger at him and smiling.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m floating on the good stuff right now. Apparently it’s just a couple of broken ribs, mild concussion and a fractured left fibula. How are you feeling?”
How was Jared feeling? It was a good question. Mostly fucking angry, he concluded.
“You flung yourself in front of me,” Jared pointed out, frowning. “When that masked madman brought the tower down, you pushed me backwards and got in the way of it. You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Jensen’s pale cheeks took on a hectic flush and he glanced sideways in embarrassment. Jared wasn’t having any of it. He reached out and turned Jensen’s head back. Keeping his big hands cupped around Jensen’s face, Jared leaned in to press a bruising hard kiss onto those beautiful full lips. He didn’t stop until they were both breathless.
Jensen winced as he leaned back against the stacked up pillows, staring at Jared from under heavy lidded eyes. The thin hospital blankets did nothing to conceal the evidence of his arousal, and Jared grinned.
“Oh you fucking joker, getting me all riled up when I can’t move,” Jensen whined, but Jared ignored him, peeling back the covers and exposing Jensen’s naked torso. Jared hissed in contained fury as he took in the mottled bruising on Jensen’s smooth, hairless chest. The hiss turned into a gasp when the injured man took one of Jared’s hands and dragged it down over the patchwork of discoloured skin that had turned Jensen into the embodiment of his alter ego – a harlequin. Their hands moved together downwards, following the bruising down to the trail of hair that led to where Jensen’s cock was straining up against the sheets.
Jared freed it, his smile turning feral. He licked his lips in anticipation.
“Mine,” he said, looking up at Jensen’s face, turned desperate with wanting.
“Yours,” Jensen agreed. “My Clown Prince of Crime.”
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Date: 2015-09-21 09:29 pm (UTC)I didn't contribute, I feel inadequate for the task.
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Date: 2015-09-22 12:13 pm (UTC)I love what you did with the art; the disturbing face-paint juxtaposed with the emotion of the tears in those magical multi-coloured eyes.
A perfect gift for P.M (and thank you for sharing it with us too!) :)
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Date: 2015-09-23 07:00 am (UTC)Edition 3,334
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