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Even from the first second they share together, Joker knows there’s something special between the two of them.
He’d used to believe in love at first sight, or he thinks he did. Hard to tell these days, sorting through his own mind feels like shuffling through an empty notebook. Pages and pages of nothing - empty and vast, but begging to be written on, filled with all sorts of brand new information.
Joker doesn’t remember his own name, but when the human bat calls him “Red Hood” he thinks to himself, “Nah, that ain’t it.”
That same Bat, his fist clenched in Joker’s chemical-soaked shirt, roaring out, “Who are you? Tell me who you are.”
Blocking the bright and vivid afternoon sun, the Bat towers over him, so beautifully foreboding. All his teeth bared when Joker just laughs in response. So easily frustrated, it would be an absolute delight to get under this guy’s skin.
“You tell me,” Joker manages inbetween giggles.
The new hero of Gotham still trying to earn the citizens’ trust and gain the criminals’ fear. Joker couldn’t wait to steal every ounce of Batman’s light and keep it for himself. Like a brand new toy, so shiny and vibrant one could see their own reflection. See himself in the Bat - now, that, he could certainly do. A house of mirrors, wandering through distortion after distortion.
In a way, in all the ways, Batman created him.
In his heart, Joker knows without question he is a part of the Bat somehow, but he can’t quite put the pieces together. Connect the wires, paint the full picture, recall the fucking punchline .
Batman is his, he is Batman’s.
The Bat lifts him off the ground in one motion, and Joker feels weightless, all the air underneath his feet. Inches away, face to face now, Joker sees that the Bat’s eyes are ocean water blue. In the blank pages of his mind, Joker dedicates an entire page to this information alone.
Years to come, Joker will always have a thing for blue eyes - even when Dr. Quinzel makes the mistake of wandering into his cell in Arkham. Her eyes are depthless and blue, just like his.
The Bat smells like sweat and aftershave, and absolutely reeks of inexperience and naivety. Joker wants inside his head, he wants to see every fear and every dream spray painted on the walls of his brain. He wants to know in every single way, just how this whole vigilante gig isn’t working the way he’d planned.
He wants to know every doubt that the citizens of Gotham have expressed, the ones so unreachable that they keep Batman awake at night. He wants to be Bat’s worst nightmare, he wants to ruin his life in every way Batman thought it couldn’t be ruined any further.
Because he made Joker, and he made him for that purpose alone. A reason to keep going. With him around, a Bat’s work is never done.
The Bat asks him his name again when they’re separated between bulletproof glass. He feels, with time, Bats will trust him enough to share a room with him, separated by only a table. Year by year, Joker will earn Bat’s trust in all the ways Bat’s never intended to give it.
The only thing stable in the poor guy’s life will be his greatest enemy, the only person he can truly rely on without fearing him as a personal weakness.
“What’s your name?” Joker tosses back, an attempt to dodge the question he simply doesn’t have an answer for yet again.
He half expects the Bat’s jaw to clench up again, with a whined out, crackly, “I asked you first,” slipping through the speaker.
Batman opens his mouth to answer, but Joker cuts him off again.
“Ah-ah-ah, don’t tell me, I already know,” Joker holds up a finger to silence him. “Surprised? I know you haven’t quite reached household level yet, but don’t worry, you’ll get there.”
“Enough with the jokes.”
“Why? I’ve always heard when you’re good at something you should stick to it,” Joker smiles at him. “You got your crime fighting, I have my comedy.”
The thing is, Joker comes to learn, what they’re both truly good at is each other. Joker’s good at attempting to destroy the city, sometimes he comes so close he can truly taste the rubble and smoke. Bats is good at saving the city, seizing it from Joker’s grasp and sitting it down on safe grounds. If Batman is Gotham’s symbol of hope, then Joker is their symbol of fear.
Every hero needs their villain, and just as always, Joker has wanted to be first in line.