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Joker loved his Batsy. He loved him so much he couldn’t stand it. That’s why he caused trouble, Batsy showed up, they had some laughs, and the game started all over again. Batsy didn’t want to admit how perfect they could be together. He said he didn’t need him, didn’t need anyone, that he was currently fighting a lot of people and Joker meant nothing to him. That hurt his feelings, but Joker knew he didn’t mean it. To the rest of the world, they were both freaks. Batsy talked like he was one of them, but he wasn’t. They needed each other to survive in a world that didn’t have room for either of them.
Batsy completed him. Their game would never end. Joker felt it when he smashed his head into the table, demanding to know where Harvey Dent and his blushing bride-to-be were. He felt it when he gave him packets of his blood to feed on when Joker became a vampire.
One day, when Batsy came to him for help with pictures of the Riddler’s victims, Joker felt his breath hitch. Looking at those pictures, the sight of their mangled bodies, it was like looking at porn. But even better was the fact that deep down, he knew Bats felt the same way.
He thought they deserved it.
He thought they deserved their deaths.
Alone in his cell, Joker went into peals of laughter. One day, Batsy would be his. Joker would never let him go.