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Delight in Disorder	By : MelodyofChaos Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Batman (All Movies) > Batman (All Movies) Views: 3373 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything Batman related, i make no money from the writing of this

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Title: Delight in Disorder Chapter 5/?

Author: Melodyofchaos

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything Batman related, if I did Bats and Joker would wear a lot less clothing whilst together.

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Mpreg, explicit sex,

Summery: After Batman gives in to his hidden desires for one night, he carts off the clown to Arkham, only for the doctors to find the Joker is pregnant. Bruce finds out after hacking into the system after the Joker’s escape and reading his medical file, with a side note saying that some doctors at Arkham are theorizing that the Joker was experimented on in the past.
Big thanks to my wonderful beta, Amanda Saitou

I love reviews. Coughhintcough.

Bruce woke up, curled even tighter around the Joker than when he first fell asleep. A quick look at the clock on the wall informed him it was 3:40am. He sighed, and remembered what he had set out to do. He and the Joker had had sex, all those ridiculous feelings Bruce had been having should be well and truly purged. All that was left to do now was to put the sociopath back where he belonged; in the dark, dank, cloying and claustrophobic walls of Arkham Asylum, where he deserved to be, Bruce told himself firmly, ignoring the feelings of guilt that rose up in his chest at what he was about to do.

He carefully untangled himself from the tight embrace they shared and walked across the small room to where the bag with his armour was in. He reached in, and carefully, so as not to make any noise, extracted a leather case. In that case were several hypodermic needles and a small bottle filled with a sedative which Bruce knew would knock the Joker out for at least a couple of hours. Plenty of time for what Bruce knew needed to be done.

He sighed, almost regretting what needed to be done, but not quite. He only had to think of the destruction this monster had unleashed upon his city, upon Rachel and Harvey, but especially Rachel. He didn’t think the anger from her brutal murder would ever fade. Bruce tried to block out the fact that by having sex with her murderer he had already betrayed her memory. He filled up the needle with the sedative, and crossed the room back to the Joker. He pulled one scarred arm towards him, and tapped it gently to bring up a vein. He then injected the Joker with the sedative, not noticing that a pair of anguished green eyes was focused upon him.

Bruce gently pulled the Joker up and into his arms, having gently dressed the man. He wasn’t going to reapply the badly-smudged make-up though. Bruce had already put the armour back on, and was intending to jump out of the window and carry the Joker to the nearby, newly-repaired Tumbler. This was carried through without incident. Bruce was surprised at how easy it all was.

Bruce drove quickly to the ancient black, flaking paint over twisted steel gates of Arkham Asylum. The Joker twitched uneasily in his unconscious state. ‘It was almost like he knew where he was…’ Bruce mused. He scoffed at the impossibility of that, the Joker was many things, but psychic was not one of them. He picked up the Joker again, the cold unfeeling action he was about to undertake was off-set by the careful and gentle way he picked up Joker and cradled him close as he walked up behind the asylum, avoiding being seen.

He walked up to the tired-looking receptionist, and ground out that he had the Joker, who was in great need of mental help. Instantly, as she pressed an alarm Bruce assumed was hidden under the desk panel, several burly men came out of a small office to the side of the receptionist. Bruce instantly squashed the thought that this might be a mistake as soon as the unbidden thought arose in his tired and foggy mind. Once the Joker had been securely locked in a cell to await the morning, and the subsequent psychiatric analysis, Bruce left, moving as quickly as he could.

He ran across the dark city, enjoying the wind on his face and the feel of his cape billowing out behind him. The hard physical exercise prevented his mind dwelling on undesirable subjects. He wondered if the Joker was awake, but caught himself and cursed for allowing his thoughts to drift to the green-haired maniac. Bruce soon reached the penthouse, and allowed himself to go on autopilot, removing the suit, tidying the cave before taking the elevator to his main living area. He crept quietly so as not to wake Alfred and was soon sliding in between silken sheets. For once, Bruce didn’t dream.

However, at Arkham, the hall trembled with the renewed screaming of its newest occupant. The Joker had awakened from his drug-induced sleep. He was restrained by a straitjacket, and to say he wasn’t happy by this latest development was a little like saying Hiroshima was just a little accident. Joker had never felt such a maelstrom of emotions, it was like his chest was going to split open at any moment now. He hated Batman in this moment, for making him feel, for making him trust, only to have it savagely pulled away with his incarceration in this God-forsaken hellhole. He wouldn’t stand for such a betrayal. Bats was going to see, going to pay for this. If he had thought he was a monster before this, he was going to see what the Joker was like when he was on the war-path, when he was fighting for revenge. He didn’t normally like revenge, too cloying, too false. But in this case he was damn well justified.

Being poked and prodded when the doctors came into his small, padded cell did nothing to sway him from his chaotic, murderous thoughts. He was thoroughly examined, although the doctor taking a blood sample flinched when he snarled at him. He was then left alone, in his brightly light cell. He snarled to himself, with the injustice of it all. He hated that he felt so naked and weak. He very rarely removed his make-up, and never had anyone ever removed it for him. They were all going to pay for this, and Bats especially. He wouldn’t want to be the person who got in his way.

Bruce yawned and stretched. For a brief moment he felt wonderful. Then the night’s events came crashing into his mind. He groaned and covered his face with one hand. Bruce almost felt like having a temper tantrum like a small child. He shouldn’t be thinking of the Joker. That was the point of last night, to purge the Joker from his thoughts. It didn’t seem like it was working, if anything, he found his thoughts wandering to the Joker, thoughts of concern and regret, although still tinged with the familiar feeling of lust and his old friend, anger. He sat up and began his morning exercise routine, the familiar moves helping to clear his mind. Once he had finished, he was feeling much calmer, and ready for some acceptable human contact. Breakfast with Alfred was next, Bruce decided.

“You’ll have to go and get another sample” one doctor stated.

The younger doctor, whom the Joker had scared earlier, visibly began to shake, “Do I, do I have to?” He stammered.

“Yes! These results cannot possible be right, but the lab is insisting they are, and I’ve checked myself. We need more blood for a second test, to verify these results”

The older doctor sighed, showing every one of his sixty-odd years. The younger doctor, whose name was Dr. Jackson, nodded miserably before heading back to the cell that contained many inhabitants of Gotham’s worst nightmare. He couldn’t help, he knew as a doctor, he should remain professional at all times. But he couldn’t help it, the clown was fucking scary. And extremely fucked up if his blood tests shown true. If that was so, additional tests would need to be undertaken, just what he scared of: more time in the immediate vicinity of the thrice-dammed harlequin.

“Back so soon?” was growled in a lower tone than normal when he entered the cell.

For a moment, he wondered what had happened to the Joker’s more nasally tones. “Err, yes, I’m afraid we need more blood. For erm testing.” He hated he was scared, hated it made him stammer, made him sound like a pathetic child. He crossed the room to where he was restrained, feeling the poison-green gaze on him the entire time he went through the procedure of drawing blood from the Joker’s arm.

The older doctor, whose name was Dr. Park, was going through the test results on the asylum’s latest star patient. So far, all they had was evidence of recent sexual activity and some very unusual blood test results. No real name, no age, no past medical history. They had nothing on the evil mass-murderer currently restrained in cell 13.

Dr. Jackson walked back into his crowded office as his mind was still busy thinking over the Joker’s unusual blood test results. He couldn’t think of known medical aliment, apart from him being a hermaphrodite, which was he knew was incorrect having examined him himself.

“I’ve got the new set of test results, Dr. Jackson, they are exactly the same as the last ones.”

The older man’s frown deepened. There was no way those test results could be correct; it was an impossibility. But all the evidence seemed to point that way. The Joker was pregnant.
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Delight in Disorder