Paper Planes

XXX

"When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."
—J.K. Rowling

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Bruce Wayne is the Batman.

The Batman is Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne, the billionaire industrialist and notorious playboy, dressed up as a fucking bat at night and attempted to diminish the amount of crime in Gotham.

Bruce fucking Wayne is the Batman!

"Joker?" Ember whispered, her hands claiming his as he stood dumbfounded in the kitchen.

His chocolate brown eyes sat widened, hardly blinking as he struggled to comprehend the information he had been given.

Out of all people...

"Bruce Wayne?" Joker murmured, his gaze settling upon Ember's as her palms cupped his destroyed cheeks.

"Is it really that much of a surprise?" Ember chuckled, her left thumb tracing circles against the deep folds of his matted flesh as his tongue snaked outward, grazing her skin as she caressed his scars.

"Just a bit." He stated, turning his head slightly to press a soft kiss against the palm of her hand before prying himself from her grasp.

Joker diligently paced the tiled kitchen floor, his bottom lip tugged between his index finger and thumb as he muttered incoherently under his breath.

"How d'you-uh, know?" He finally inquired, freezing in place as his stare settled upon the squirming woman once more.

Ember merely chuckled, lacing her lanky fingers around the handle of the coffee mug before bringing it to her lips. Joker stared, growing rather impatient with her as the lukewarm liquid coated her throat.

"If I'm being honest," Ember began, cupping the mug between both hands.
"He's a bit of a growler in bed. Batman's voice sounded very similar, that's how I knew."

Once again, Joker's expression faltered, an appalled look plastered on his features as his jaw fell ajar.

"In bed?" He pressed, brows raising in a mixture of curiousity and–jealousy?

"Oh," Ember chirped, fiddling with the handle of her mug before returning it to the safety of the counter. "Yeah. I—uh—had a bit of a—thing—with him before I met Noah."

"You fucked Bruce Wayne?" He scolded, index finger jabbed in her direction.
"You fucked Bruce Wayne—fucking Batman, and didn't tell me?"

Ember threw her arms up in defense, growing a bit agitated by Joker's reaction to her confession.

"Why would I need to tell you? It was like, seven years ago! What does it matter?" She countered.

Joker merely shook his head from side to side, faded curls tickling the skin of his jaw as his gaze diverted to the floor, his feet shuffling in circles as he paced the dinky room once again.