title: let the cops chase us around
fandom: DC Comics
characters/pairings: Crane/Bruce, Rachel
rating: Teen
warnings: anonymous sex, foul language
summary: Jonathon Crane is a creature of study and obsession.
notes: for duckgirlie, for this request on fic on demand. title from the song 'Hey Jealousy' by Gin Blossoms, in a stunning lack of creativity on my part, whoops...

He was always watching, see. Observing. It was his nature. When he was a child, he would watch the bugs eating their young, and he'd watch the girls scream as he slipped worms down their shirts. When he first started experimenting with sex, it was natural for him to flirt with the boys, just to watch their narrow little minds collapse in the face of perceived deviance.

He liked controlling things. People. People were things.

He liked power.

Naturally, he was drawn to the fringes of the echelons of society for whom power was a toy, control a given, and deviance a game. The coke fiends in their preppy sweater and argyle socks, the Fortune 500 brats who went slumming in Tricorner nightclubs and sold their bodies, the honor roll students with their private parts pierced.

Bruce Wayne caught his interest immediately. He was good looking, and suave, and well liked, in the general sort of way that a person could be without letting anyone know anything true about themselves. Crane watched him from afar at first, noticing. Noticing how Wayne smiled when he knew people were watching him, but brooded when he thought he was alone. Noticing how Wayne could drink along with his rich, idiot friends, but he only pretended to lose control with them. Noticing how Wayne's eyes were just as desperate as his own.

Crane was... intrigued.

Wayne wasn't that observant, though. Three times, he took Crane to the back of the sleazy gay bar the Ivy League jet set preferred. Three times, he let Wayne ride him, pretending that he was just some random fling. He watched Wayne as he gasped in an exaggerated fashion, and he wondered...

Why was this rich boy different from the others? Because he'd watched his goodie-goodie parents mowed down?

What a fucking laugh.

He wanted to play with Wayne. Get closer to him... experiment. But then, Wayne disappeared.

Crane hadn't seen that coming.





Rachel Dawes was about as straight laced as a girl with that body could get. She didn't date, though she had something undefined going on with her boss. In Crane's professional opinion, undefined relationships were doomed relationships. She was hard working, which would be fine if she wasn't sticking her too-cute nose into other people's very important private business. She was strong, fearless in a smart enough to be savvy way, and she had absolutely nothing in her past to smear her spotless record of public service.

She would be entirely boring, if Wayne wasn't interested in her.

He watched her face contort with fear. He so loved this beautiful drug. He was addicted to the affects it had on people. He always enjoyed it, of course. But this time, he liked it a bit more. A lot more. Actually, he was giddy.

This bitch was special to Wayne.

Not special enough that he bothered to contact her when he returned to town. Not special enough that he refrained from practically fucking those whores in that hotel in front of everyone. Not special enough that he was here to protect her. But there was something inside of her that knew something about Wayne that Crane didn't.

He hated the fucking cow bitch, and he was going to enjoy every moment of her pain. He was going to watch her mind collapse from the weight of her fears. He'd take her to the private cells of his little sanctuary here, and he'd let the worst criminals who weren't under his care take turns with her, until she was utterly destroyed from the inside out.

Just as soon as he dealt with that Bat.








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