The Case of the Cursed Spaghetti
Bruce didnât know how to cook. At all.
You would think someone who had a wide variety of skills would at least know how to make fucking spaghetti. But it seemed Bruce didnât have one cooking bone in his body. So he glared at the spaghetti floating in the pot like it had somehow insulted him.
This was a rare night in the Wayne Manor. Bruce wasnât out on patrol because of his leg injury he suffered the previous night, and Alfred had taken a night off from being a butler. Alfred almost never asked for time off, so it was weird being alone in the house. It actually felt sorta lonely.
His plans for the night were: cook the damn spaghetti, go down to the cave and work on several projects, and then maybe come up and relax. It was safe to say Bruce didnât relax often. To busy working and fighting and working and sleeping and fighting. He was actually pretty excited to have one night where he could just sit down and watch some movies, like a normal person would.
He thought he was actually making some progress with the cursed spaghetti in front of him when the alarm in the kitchen began blaring. Bruce was immediately on alert, quickly shedding the skin of Bruce Wayne and adopting the façade of Batman.
Upon closer inspection of the alarm, it showed where the intruder was. Someone was trying to get through his bedroom window, but it was too dark outside for his security cameras to get a close look to who it was. He didnât have time to get to the cave and get some useful tools, so he simply grabbed a baseball bat that was hidden close by and made his way to his bedroom.
Bruce entered the room and heard small tinkering coming from the balcony door. Given that the door wasnât made of glass, he still couldnât see who it was, but whoever was out there was trying to pick the lock. So he raised the bat and waited for whoever it was to enter through the door.
After a few short seconds an audible click could be heard along with a muffled voice saying, âYippee!!â The door then gently swung open, and Bruce prepared to fight the intruder. His bat was raised and he was ready to swing and almost did until Joker revealed himself by stepping fully in the room. Jâs head rose and his eyes widened comically at Bruce and his raised bat.
But then a stream of giggles left his red lips and he said, âHi'ya Brucey! Now, I knooow this might look a lil suspicious, but Iâm here with good intentions. So please donât hit me with your bat.â J pulled out the puppy dog eyes and pouted his lower lip. âPretty, pretty, pretty please?â
Bruce sighed and lowered the bat to his side. âJoker, what are you doing? Why are you here?â
âWell, I came out to hang with my boooyfriend, watch a movie, and maybe get a little touchy-feely. Our very own sleepover!â His smile didnât have itâs usual menace; it was just a normal, cheery smile.
âFirst: I am not your boyfriend. Weâre simply on good terms - â
But then J interrupted with a snort and said, âGood terms? Baby, youâve been fucking me for weeks. I think we arenât âsimply on good termsâ; weâre waay past that.â He flashed him a wink and giggled some more.
âSecond: you cannot break into my house in the middle of the night!â He leveled J with a heated glare but J just rolled his eyes.
âIâm not causing any harm. I know precious Alfred is out and about for the night so I thought this was the perfect time for date night! You see, I really want to watch this movie and I want to watch it with you. So I was hoping youâd join me?â J was looking down at the ground with a face of innocence. Bruce knew it was probably an act, but his heart melted a tiny bit anyways.
He set the bat down on the ground and said, âFine, fine. Weâll watch your movie. But you are not spending the night.â With that last part Joker frowned and was ready to argue but the look on Bruceâs face shut it down.
J sighed in resignation, but then moved to the bed and plopped down on its plush surface. âI could definitely get used to this.â He moaned in satisfaction while stretching on the bed.
âThis is a one time thing only. Now hand me the movie so I can put it in.â Bruce held out his hand and J sat up and handed the case over. Once he had the case in his hand, he could see what J had picked out. He blinked once, and then twice, and then again. Was he serious?
Seeing the look of confusion on Bruceâs face, J said, âWhatâs wrong Prince Charming?â
âThe Notebook. You want to watch The Notebook? Seriously?â
âWhat? Itâs supposed to be a good movie! But more importantly, do ya have any snacks Brucey? A movie is alwaays better with some snacks!â Joker was now laying on his back with his head hanging over the edge looking at Bruce.
Bruce was about to respond when suddenly he remembered. The spaghetti! He rushed out of the room and down to the kitchen to find the water bubbling over and smoke rising. âShit, shit, shit!â He quickly turned off the burner, grabbed the pot, and dumped the remains in the sink. The noodles were mushy and gross, floating in the scalding water.
J entered the kitchen and stood by Bruce looking down at the noodles. âWow. You really are somethin, you know that?â He tsked and then grabbed the pot. âYou can save Gotham from destruction, but ya canât cook spaghetti. This is really sad, Bruce.â He turned the burner back on and refilled the pot. He set it down on its burning surface, and then found some uncooked noodles.
Bruce turned his gaze from the sad, sad spaghetti and saw Joker bustling about. âWhat are you doing?â
âIâm fixing your mistake. I actually know how to cook. So sit back and let Daddy work.â
It seemed the Joker really did know how to cook. The food was soon done and it actually looked good. J grabbed the plates and headed for the stairs and Bruce followed. The movie was put in the DVD player, and they both sat on the bed with their plates on their laps.
Bruce was sort of hesitant about trying the spaghetti, but there really wasnât any reason. He watched as J cooked the food; he couldnât of put anything dangerous in it. So he finally grabbed the fork and took a bite. Holy shit this is good. Really good. He very enthusiastically started eating his food.
He snuck a peek at J. Joker was shoveling his food in his mouth while watching the previews. Bruce didnât know he was staring long until J said without turning to him, âBruce, youâre supposed to be watching the movie. The previews count.â Bruce rolled his eyes but turned his attention to the screen.
For the next 2 hours and 4 minutes they watched The Notebook. About halfway through they had finished their food and the plates were set aside.
Bruce didnât know when it happened, but Joker had managed to get Bruce sitting against the headboard while he laid between his legs with his head laying on Bruceâs chest. The rational part of Bruce was screaming at him: Youâre cuddling with a psychopath watching The Notebook. What are you doing?! But Bruce didnât want to move. He wouldnât actually admit it, but he was comfortable like this. So he relaxed and turned his attention back to movie, which was coming to the end.
The credits were soon rolling and Bruce heard sniffling. J ⊠Are you crying?â
Sniffle. "No.â Sniffle.
Bruce smiled lightly and wrapped his arms around Joker. J sniffled again and said, âOne day, weâre gonna be old and wrinkly. Youâll probably be 80 and still dressing up like a Bat.â J giggled and snuggled further into Bruceâs embrace. Bruce rolled his eyes and said, âAnd when youâre 80 youâll probably still be a pain in my ass.â
He told Joker when he first got there that he couldnât spend the night, but Bruce didnât live up to his word. J was in his arms sound asleep, and Bruce was content. It did unnerve him that J was starting to become a normal part of his life, and that he was enjoying his company, but he just didnât care. He hadnât felt this good in a long time, so he simply closed his eyes and fell asleep cuddled with his Clown.
