Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There really needs to be better security at the GCPD station, Oswald thinks as he shuts the door to the records room behind him as quietly as possible. The room is thankfully empty and he sets to work looking over the drawers and shelves, trying to locate what he was here to find quickly before anyone had the chance to come on and catch him. Scowling when he can't find whatever it was, he spies a box labeled to be sorted and he glances at the door before pawing through it. Muttering to himself as he does so before at the very bottom he finds what he's looking for. Pulling the two evidence bags out he tears them open, shoving the plastic in one pocket of his coat. The watch and switchblade slid into the other. Standing with a sigh of relief, he leans on a cabinet for a moment to stretch out his bad leg before he sneaks back out of the station. About to start making his way out he freezes when the knob rattles and a young woman bursts through the door, shutting it hastily. Leaning back against it as though keeping something out and taking a deep breath. Oswald is frozen in place, should he just stab her? Take her hostage? Lie his way out? She adjusts her glasses and finally looks up at him. Stunned for a second and Oswald's heart leaps up into his throat.

Kristen Kringle. 

Of ALL the people he could have run into on this little mission, it had to be her. Fortunately the last time they ever saw each other was well over a decade ago. She is eyeing him oddly now, her head tilted to the side. He's lost all interest in harming her so lying it is. 

"Oh goodness, I must have the wrong room. This isn't the office I was looking for! Please excuse me." He carefully shuffles past her. 

"You look familiar, do I know you?"

"I don't think so. Ah!" He snaps his fingers. "You've probably seen me in the papers. That must be it, but I assure you I am here on legitimate business-"

"No it's not that, I mean it is, but also somewhere else. Do you have a sister?"

Oswald swallows, cheeks red. "No, I was an only child." He should have lied as something clicks in her eyes and she snaps her fingers. 

"Kapelput! Your mother always made those little Hungarian cookies for the bake sales. Those were so good." Shit. Shit shit shit. "What were you here for? I can direct you." 

"Oh no I'll just go ask at the front like I should have, really it's fine."

 Oswald starts backing towards the door as she advances, it's not that Kristen was anyone he particularly needed to avoid from his school years. But there was a certain amount of questioning that typically came with old schoolmates that he'd grown very tired of very quickly. To his immense chagrin the door starts to open behind him, what is WITH people and the GCPD records room. You’d think they were giving out free bags of money in this damn room with how many people come in here, he thinks before deciding that whoever comes through the door is going to get roped into a way out of here. 

"Ms. Kringle I just wanted to apologize-"

"There you are darling!" Oswald exclaims as he grabs the man's face and tugs him down for a rough facsimile of a kiss. Lips smushed together clumsily. "I got all turned around and wound up in the wrong office, can you imagine?" 

He chuckles, finally studying whomever it was he kissed. Just his luck it would be some nerdy looking gangly scientist-type. Details, he supposes, and carefully slips the knife from his jacket pocket. Undoing the man’s work jacket and sliding his arm up his back, to anyone else, a loving gesture. To the poor sap in question, there’s a knife to his back as he flusters and stutters. Oswald beams, trying to give his most believable smile as he presses the knife in a little more insistently. 

“That…”
“M-ms. Kringle I- I don’t-”
“Makes so much sense. Oh. My gosh Ed. You should have said something! I was about to report you for harassment!” This takes both of them by surprise honestly and something sentimental in the back of Oswald’s brain contemplates slitting the man’s, Ed’s, throat right now. “You should have told me you had a boyfriend, I would have played along. Helped you save some face with ‘the guys’.” 
“Well, that’s very nice. But Ed and I really should be going we have a lunch date-”
“Mind if I tag along? It’s been so long…” He sighs. “Oswald.” “Oswald. We should catch up! I’ll go ask Officer Dougherty-”
“NO.” 

Both Oswald and Kristen pause, looking up at Ed, whose face has gone completely red with his outburst. “I- I mean- That’s- Um. Ms. Kringle, could you maybe give us a moment?” He nervously adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat and shifting. 
“Sure. I’ll be right outside.” She says, scooting around them, the two men adjusting to let her out before Ed, seemingly uncaring about the knife in his back. Hurries to lock the door behind her and spin around to look at Oswald.
“You’re a criminal, what are you doing in Ms. Kringle’s office?”
“Why does Krissy have cause to file a harassment complaint against you?”
“I- Krissy?”
“Yes. Kristen, Kris, Krissy. What’s not to understand?”
“I don’t- No one I know has ever called her that...”
Oswald allows himself a frustrated sigh. “Alright listen, I came here to steal back some evidence I had to leave at a crime scene.” He wiggles the knife. “However I didn’t know my old high school friend worked here in the damn records room.”
Ed’s brow furrows. “But Ms. Kringle went to an All Girls Catholic School?”
“Yes. She did. Perhaps you can understand why I wouldn’t want to be confronted about that in a place where I shouldn't be doing something I shouldn’t be doing.”

The man blinks a couple times before the dots connect in his head. “That makes way more sense now. But- you just kissed me, in front of Ms. Kringle. That was my first kiss ever and now what’s she going to think of me?”
“That… you’re a fruit?”
“Exactly! I don’t want her to think that!”
“Why? What does her thinking your gay have to do with anything? And that was your first kiss? Ever? How old are you? And what’s with that weird reaction to Dougherty, I’m sure she’s-”
“He.”
“Pardon?”
“Officer Tom Dougtherty is a man.”
Oswald runs his tongue over his teeth as he stares, mostly in shock, at Ed. Glancing at his name tag, Edward Nygma. Alright then. He laughs, disbelievingly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s… Okay yes you’re right we are not inviting him to lunch. Also, I don’t know if we were hearing the same things, she was going to report you for harassment. Which, I have not forgotten by the way. And if my memory serves me well, neither you nor this Tom would be even close to her type. So really, I’ve done you a favor.”

Edward looks, almost deflated at the realization, but seems to perk up a little as he mulls things over. Hopefully whatever he’s thinking about means they can get out of this situation soon, honestly going to lunch doesn’t sound like a half bad idea at this point. He’s feeling a little peckish.

“... I’ll play along, and… to keep her satisfied we should probably take her to lunch. But. I want something out of you in return for playing your boyfriend.”
Oswald sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine. What?”
“I want a redo of my first kiss. After lunch.” 
That’s certainly unexpected, Oswald had been assuming it’d be something more involved. “Done. Shall we? Darling?” Oswald puts as much spite into it as he can, putting the knife back into his pocket. Edward hums and unlocks the door, letting Kristen back in. “We’ve decided that you can join us, but perhaps your…” Oswald struggles to find a word that’s not insulting. “Suitor, should stay behind this time. You are the first of Ed’s coworkers to find out, and entirely by accident after all.”

“That sounds reasonable. I admit it was out of excitement that I suggested that, however it would be best to keep this from him for now.”

Oswald smiled, at least she kept her knack for discretion. Edward shakes his way out of Oswald’s hold. “I’ll go get out of my work jacket.” The two are left to make their way to the lobby of the GCPD station, Kristen sighing. “I’m sure you’re worried about the whole… Harassment report thing. I know that sounds… intense, and if you’re anything like you were back then, you probably want to slit his throat.”

Oswald wanted to slit several people’s throats right now, his own included. “He’s a very… eccentric man. I apologize if in his efforts to hide his relationship from those who might make his life all the harder for it he’s made you uncomfortable, Krissy.” He takes her hand and pats it reassuringly. Really he has no idea, for all he knows Nygma was leaving dead animals on her desk or something. Or stalking her. He knew where she went to school and he very much doubts she told him, so that’s not out of the realm of possibility. 

“Gosh. I haven’t heard that nickname in ages.” She laughs. “I'm looking forward to this lunch, I haven’t really looked forward to much of anything lately.”  

Oddly, Oswald can’t help but feel the same way about this lunch. Despite the metric ton of lies he’s going to have to spin.  

Lunch goes exceptionally well, Kristen far more interested in actually catching up with Oswald and trading stories from their school days. There’s a distinct lack of questioning about his appearance, and truly he’s grateful for that. Edward is mostly silent, picking at his food and occasionally sipping his drink. They loop him into the conversation when they can, but his experiences with schooling have been far different than theirs. For a great number of reasons. Oswald pays for their meals, seeing Kristen off before turning to Edward. Slipping a card into his pocket. 

“I’m not kissing you here, where anyone can see before we have our story straight. So to speak.” Oswald catches the small chuckle the wordplay draws from Nygma. “That card has my address on it. Go there once you’re done with your work.” It’s not his real home. He’s not so stupid as to give anyone who works at the GCPD his actual private residence. But he’s rolling in enough cash that he’s set up an apartment for meetings he’d rather not have at the manor. “And then I’ll give you your ‘payment’ for helping me out.”

Edward pulls out the card, looking at it for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket, nodding. Turning on his heel, Oswald starts making his way down the street. More than aware that he could easily be double crossed by the scientist, but something tells him that that is an empty fear. 

Several hours later he’s in his decoy apartment of sorts, ingredients spread out in the kitchen as he works on cooking dinner for himself and his guest. The man should at least be wined and dined before he gets a ‘proper’ first kiss. Whatever that means, really he could just open the door, kiss the life out of the man, and send him on his way. But that didn’t suit his need for some degree of pageantry around the whole ordeal. It was also worth dusting off the cookbook his mother had painstakingly photocopied for him at the library so he’d have her cooking if he wasn’t able to be home for a while. It’d been a while since he’d pawed through it. 

The buzzer goes off and he almost leaps out of his skin, a gun pulled from a drawer until he’s certain it’s Ed and he lets the man in. Mentally grumbling that the man was woefully early. Stowing the firearm as to not startle him as he goes to the door, peering through the peephole to insure Edward hasn't brought any annoying coworkers with him that might do something like arrest him. Once again reassured that Edward's alone he undoes the chain and deadbolt, letting the scientist in and heading back to the kitchen. 

"This is nicer than I expected." Edward thankfully closes and locks the door firmly. Sliding the chain into place. 

Oswald puffs a little with pride, strolling over with a glass of red wine. Holding it out to the younger man. "It's the least I can do after such a lackluster performance. Not to mention shattering any fantasies you had about Ms. Kringle. My sincerest apologies for that, by the way."

Edward has a sour look on his face, draining half the glass in one go. "Just more reason to dislike that blowhard cop." He mutters, holding the glass in both hands and looking morosely down into it. 

Oswald focuses on finishing off the meal he’d been preparing, if he allows himself the chance to think about that situation he’s going to go out and do something before he actually has time to think it through. One can’t exactly go out and impulsively kill a police officer. As unfortunate as that was. There’s the sounds of Edward poking around the other rooms. Well, there’s not a lot of other rooms, but he’s looking around. Oswald isn’t overly worried other than a few startled murmurs whenever Ed opens a drawer or a cabinet and finds whatever weapon he’s stashed there. Eventually the man sits at the dining table, perfect timing as well as Oswald brings out two steaming dishes.  

“That smells really good.” Edward sits up a little more, eyes the dishes hungrily. 
“I noticed you hadn’t eaten much at lunch, which is understandable considering the circumstances. But you’re woefully thin.” Edward looks at the plate, picking up a fork. “Hungarian rabbit stew.” He spares Edward having to parse the Hungarian. “My mother’s recipe.”

He tops off Edward’s wine glass before sitting down himself, taking a sip from his own wine glass before tucking into the dish. There’s not a lot of conversation as they eat, Edward clearly too hungry to do much more than eat. Politely and with manners, Oswald is content to see. As for himself, well it’s been a while since he’s had any of his mother’s cooking. So he takes his time. Refilling Edward’s plate when he finishes and starts to fidget and glance at Oswald’s own plate. 

“It’s really good.” Is the first thing said between them, when Edward is halfway through his second plate of food. “My compliments. I really thought I’d show up, you’d kiss me and that’d be it. This is…” If Oswald didn’t know better, he’d say the younger man is blushing. “This is really nice of you.”
“Nonsense, you wanted a proper one, and I’d treat any man I was going to kiss to a nice dinner first.”
“Do you do that a lot? Kiss men, I mean.” Edward catches himself for a moment. “Not in a judgemental way! I was just curious considering it really seemed like you’d have kissed anyone who came into the room.”
“Yes, Edward, I usually kiss men.” He chuckles, Edward wasn’t usually his type. But the man was growing on him. 
“I presume we’ll have to continue this farce for a bit? If so I should probably learn a little bit about you.”
“Mmm, yes. I have locked us into a rather tricky situation. For which I do apologize.”
“Was the knife really that important to get back? And the watch?”
“Monetarily no, but I happen to like my freedom.”

Edward hums and finishes eating his food, wiping his mouth with his napkin once finished and thanking Oswald once more. “I realize I haven’t even properly introduced myself. A bad mark on myself as a boyfriend, I suppose.” They share a laugh. “Edward Nygma.” He holds out his hand. 

“Oswald Cobblepot.” They shake over the table. “Though I presume you already knew that.”

“I’ve… been known to peruse your file once or twice. I have to admit it’s somewhat fascinating how you’ve managed to get where you are. Admirable even. In other circumstances, I’d probably be thrilled to have been kissed by the Oswald Cobblepot and being pulled into his scheme to get out of a police station.”

Oswald can’t help but absolutely preen under the praise. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Mr. Nygma.” 
Edward smiles and looks down at his hands. “Is it… okay if we make a dinner like this a semi-regular thing? I don’t really have anyone outside of a work environment I could really consider a friend. But I wouldn’t want to take you away from anything you had to do in your… Business dealings.”

Thinking about it, it certainly would make the whole charade easier to pull off. Besides, apart from being rather sullen at the lunch, and the understandable abrasiveness in the police station, Edward seemed nice enough. Plus… if the man really had no experience, it would perhaps be a bit fun to try and tailor a man to his specific tastes in the bedroom. A bespoke lover of sorts. Though he should work out if Edward would be into him for real first. His crimes are too numerous to list, but taking advantage of someone in that way didn’t make it on there. And he fully intended to keep it that way. 

“I can make time in my schedule to have dinner with my ‘boyfriend’.” He smiles and winks over at Edward. “Besides it’ll give us time to work out exactly what we tell people. Today has been a lot however so, I think we should adjourn for today.”
“Please, at least let me help clean up.”
Oswald holds up a hand. “It’s not a problem.” 

He of course has not forgotten about their deal, or the rest of the day's events. They approach the door of the apartment when Oswald springs into action, more or less. Sliding his hands into Edward’s hair and pulling him down for what could of been a casual brush of lips, but no half measures. Full effort. Oswald pulls out every trick he can think of to give Edward the best do-over first kiss he can think of. Silver screen worthy, slow and passionate. There’s a little bit of the sauce Edward had somehow missed that he licks up before pulling back. Immensely smug when Edward almost follows for more before coming back to himself.

The woefully inexperienced man only has a second to process though, before Oswald is pulling a knife from the front hall table and fisting his hand in Ed’s sweater and shoving him back against the door. The knife at his throat, almost cutting into the skin.  

“I hear anything more from Krissy about considering filing a harassment complaint, and you’re wearing your blood as a necktie. Understood?”

Edward stutters. “Y-yes, of course Mr. Penguin- I mean Oswald, sir.” He’s bright red as he fumbles for the locks and the knob. “I- I’ll be in touch.” 

Edward practically flings himself from the apartment, running down the hall to the elevator as Oswald watches, tapping the knife against his other hand slowly as he regards Edward running into one of the other residents and profusely apologizing before continuing on his way. Smirking, he finally closes and locks the door, heading to the kitchen and shedding a couple layers as he starts to clean up.

This was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Kristen hesitates. Unsure if she should mention what’s going on at all, before deciding that someone besides her, someone who actually had the power to do something in case things went horribly wrong with Edward and his partner knew what was going on. Sure, Ozzie had been a peach in high school, but there's always been an edge to him that seemed to have gotten darker over the years. If the records she's filed over her tenure at the station are accurate. (Which they are, she's very good at what she does.) Her opinion of her coworker hasn’t necessarily improved, all things considered. Edward was still rather off-putting and had the social graces of a blunt instrument, but at heart she’s a kind person. And she doesn’t want to see him hurt.

“Detective Gordon.”
“Ms. Kringle! What can I do for you today?”
“I… was wondering if I could have a word with you in private. It’s… about Mr. Nygma.”
Jim sighs. “Listen, I know he’s awkward and maybe doesn’t always say the best things in the moment, but he’s harmless I promise.”
“Oh! Oh no it’s not about that! And I really think we ought to speak a little more privately.”

The detective looks around, sucking his teeth before nodding. Gesturing to an empty meeting room, opening the door for her and letting her step in first before following.

“Alright, what are your concerns?”
“Well… I had the pleasure of meeting his… partner the other day. And I’ve got no issue with his preference or what his love life is like, frankly it's a bit of a relief!" She leaves out that the idea of outright rejecting Edward scared her. "But…” She hesitates for a few moments . Is it really worth outing Edward? Detective Gordon had always shown him more kindness than most, it's why he felt like the natural choice for the situation. Kristen steels her resolve. “His partner is the Penguin. Now- now I know that being a criminal and a thief doesn’t mean he’s treating Mr. Nygma poorly but if you could perhaps check on him now and again?”
“Penguin, huh?” The detective rubs his forehead. “Cobblepot really is more trouble than he’s worth..Yeah I’ll keep an eye on Ed for you, Ms. Kringle.”
Kristen breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Detective Gordon. I really appreciate it.”
 

With that, she leaves the room and heads back to work, reassured that Edward will be looked after. Now the only worry was where Nygma was currently, from what she’d heard he’d called out sick the past three days. 

Hopefully, everything was alright. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 
There was something critically wrong with him, there had to be. It’s been three days since the kiss he’d shared with Oswald and it was all he could think about. Not so much the kiss, though that was also on the forefront of his mind, but being threatened with the knife right after. It was a bizarre heady mix of two kinds of adrenaline. The warmth that had made its home in his belly mixed with the cold dread of potentially being killed. Hopefully this won’t turn into some kind of weird psycho-sexual thing where he won’t be able to get off without a knife to his throat. It’s not really so much that Oswald is a man, it’s confusing sure, that a man could have this much of an effect on him. Not even interactions with Ms. Kringle made him think this much about them. It was an uncomfortable sense of irrationality that had him ashamed to go back to work and look people in the eye. Not to mention the burning guilt in his gut at having so badly shaken up Ms. Kringle. Truly, he had just wanted to make some kind of connection. So in some small regard he figures he owes Oswald a thank you for inadvertently saving his job. 

'Oh come on, it's not so bad, all you did was cum harder than you ever had in your life over a knife being held to your throat.' 

Edward looks over at the mirror, a rag thrown haphazardly over it as though that would have truly hid how he fisted his cock like a dying man with a mobsters name on his lips the second he got back from Oswald's apartment from the voice in his head. A silly thought really.

"Shut up."

'Ms. Kringle already thinks your gay, what's wrong with "perverted freak" as well?'

"Don't call me that."

'Perverted or freak?'

Edward slides his hands under his glasses, pressing the tips of his fingers into his eyelids, willing the specter of his subconscious to let him have his crisis in peace. "What do you want?" He opens his eyes and looks towards the mirror, sucking in a breath and stumbling backwards, falling into his couch. Not expecting the hallucination to be so close. It stalks towards him, grin manic and toothy, eyes wide as it towers over him.

' We want Oswald Cobblepot.'

A sharp knocking on his door pulls his attention away from the horrifying expression on his own face, when he looks back, it's gone. Adjusting his glasses he scurries to the door and undoes the lock, opening it a little, then wider when he sees it's Jim Gordon. 

"Detective."

"Ed! Good to see you up, you doing alright? You normally don't take this much time off."

He clears his throat. "Just having some trouble shaking a cold. Don't want to get the rest of the station sick."

"Oh well how considerate of you Ed." Jim smiles. "I have this file here… I hate to make you work when you're sick, but everyone at the station is completely stumped. If you're feeling okay, maybe you can take a look at it for me?" 

It has to be some kind of trick but it’s the exact kind of trick he will fall for every time and he takes the file. Glancing at the cover of it, it’s indeed a trick, the file is an old, easily solvable B&E that’s already been solved. Still he flips it open to reveal a black envelope with his name very elegantly scrawled across the front of it. He looks up at Jim as he pulls the envelope out of the folder. Flipping it around in his fingers to show him.

“New evidence?”
Jim slides his hands into his pockets. “Cobblepot caught me on the way out, I was going to come check up on you anyways. Ms. Kringle told me about your um… Partnership. Asked me to make sure everything is alright.”
“It’s fine, you’d be surprised at how thoughtful he is. And he’s never laid a hand on me when it wasn’t wanted. Besides I’m a foot taller than him, if he tries anything I’ll just kick him.” It’s a weak attempt at humor that leaves Jim looking at him oddly. Edward swallows. “If you’ve got me, you want to share me; if you share me, you haven’t kept me. What am I?”
Jim thinks for a few moments before he answers. “I’m not going to tell any of the higher ups, or anyone else, at the station about your relationship Ed. Just promise me you’ll tell me if anything goes wrong, okay?”

The detective gives his bicep a good thump before gripping it, not harshly, like Edward is unfortunately used to from others. But reassuringly, if anything were to truly go wrong with Oswald, Jim would help him.

“Yeah sure.”
“Feel better, Ed.” 

And with that Jim Gordon is turning and walking down his hallway, and he’s ducking back in his apartment to carefully open the envelope. Reading it over.  

‘Edward, it occurred to me that I never gave you a means to contact me. Additionally, I’d like to discuss the parameters of our arrangement further. Please meet me at my club at 9. X’ 

Edward exhales, he hadn’t thought he’d have to face Oswald so soon. Perhaps once a week or so, the note does make a good point though. It would be easier to have some way to contact Oswald without diverting his entire schedule for an in person meeting. It’s still a few hours before he would have to leave to meet up with the man, so he sets to work making himself look presentable after holing up in his apartment. 

‘Are you going to bring up how the knife made you feel? I bet you are, not even on purpose.’ 

He ignores the shade harassing him in the mirror as he tries to focus on shaving, running a hand through his hair, he feels like he could use a haircut, but for now he simply styles it as he usually would before inspecting it and scowling. Shaking it out, he goes for something different and… looking at himself in the mirror, he’s not sure if it fits him. But it’ll do for the evening. Woefully, he doesn’t really have a lot of clothes that suited what he’d imagine a club run by the Penguin. Or really any… Perhaps he could purchase something for the next time. Even his nicest clothes didn’t feel nice enough. But they’d have to do for now. Clean shaven, hair made… acceptable, and with clothes chosen, he moves onto arguably the most important part of the preparation process. 

Mentally rehearsing NOT telling the man he jerked off to being threatened with a knife. 

A few hours later he finds himself in front of Oswald’s club, adjusting his tie and not entirely confident in his abilities to not spill his dark secrets to the man over the night. Entering the club he looks around, wondering if there was some specific place he needed to meet Oswald at or if he was supposed to find him, he didn’t go out a lot. Or at all. Much less for clandestine meetings with the man you’re faking a relationship with. He heads to the bar, after a few moments of consideration. Which proves to be the best move as the man makes his presence known quickly. 

“Edward! Prompt as usual I see, what can I get you?”
“Oh no it’s okay.”
“I insist, before we head to my office.”
“Um. A whiskey sour.” Edward directs the request to the bartender.
“Excellent choice, a martini for me, thanks.” 

They exchange pleasantries until they’re handed their drinks. At which point Oswald gestures for Edward to follow him to his office. It’s simply decorated, likely furnishings that were there from before. Oswald informs him that he intends to redecorate, update it and the club a little. Edward gives surface level suggestions meant to continue the conversation than serve as actual suggestions. They’re both just filling the space with words, but he’s quite certain it’s not anxiety on Oswald’s part like it is on his. 

“So.” A card is slid across the desk. “I obtained a burner phone I can use to contact you. I am woefully old fashioned so it’s not something I’d usually have, but if this is to work, then communication is a must.” 
Edward takes the notecard, a phone number neatly printed on it. He takes a moment to memorize it as he sips his drink before setting it back on the desk.
“You’re not going to keep it.”
“I’ll remember it.” Edward says with a confidence he only has in his own abilities to remember things. 
“Very well. Now, onto the parameters of our faux relationship. I’m sure it would come as very little surprise to you that I’ve been called ‘high maintenance’ before. Expensive gifts, et cetera.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Edward I’m approaching thirty. I’m very well aware of what I’m about. None of that would be necessary here, though. I won’t ask you to drain your savings to cater to a man you don’t actually love.”
“That’s fair, I wouldn’t expect that of you either. Not that… I know what I like in a relationship anyways.”
“You seemed to like the dinner.” 
Edward’s cheeks are pink. “I did. There’s a lot to be said about a home cooked meal. Though I wouldn’t expect you to cook every time. We could go back and forth, or whomever feels like it.” 

Oswald makes a note of that in a notebook and he’s immensely curious about what's in it. Edward doubts it’s anything like his own notebook stash. Scribbled notes and observations. 

“That’d be nice, I am curious about your cooking. And perhaps a little bit about your background, Nygma isn’t a last name you hear often.”

“Oh I chose it myself, see I don’t exactly have the best relationship with my immediate family, or extended family, really they’re all a bunch of idiotic slobs who have nothing better to do than question the validity of my intelligence. No matter what laurels I bring to the table.” Ed shakes his drinkless hand as if banishing his tangent. “Anyways, I changed it, partially in an effort to hide from them. Which failed, my mother is… uncomfortably good at getting information out of people. Though really it… simply makes me sick to share a name with my father.” He smiles tightly.

“You do that a fair bit.”
“Pardon?”
“Smile like you hate everyone in a room.”
“It’s just a polite smile.” Edward pauses. Unsure. “Isn’t it?”

Oswald simply hums, bringing his martini glass up and taking a sip from it. “It’s serviceable. It doesn’t really reach your eyes though. I suppose that’s the point of a polite smile, one doesn’t really mean it. ” Oswald continues on in spite of the many questions Edward had prepared to ask. “Bringing up your family is a good segway, and I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear I don’t think involving them is necessary. In fact it’d probably be largely detrimental.”

“Too many randomized variables to consider and control. Not to mention I don’t really consider myself a violent man, but I have trouble restraining myself around him sometimes. So no doubt you’d have him dead to rights in under five minutes” And honestly, what a delightful thought that is. 
“Considering I was, and still am, prepared to slit your throat over a friend I haven’t seen in over a decade, that’s a very fair assessment.” 

Edward swallows thickly, is that a threat or a promise. The way Oswald had looked at him the other night makes itself uncomfortably known at the mention, and he takes a seat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

"I really am sorry I- Honestly I haven't been to work in a few days because I don't know how to- What do I even-" He hesitates. "Most people are happy to just have a reason to get rid of me. Navigating interpersonal relationships is so exhausting I just… default to how I am when I’m alone. I don't know what's wrong with me…" Edward takes another sip of the drink, morose and having managed to work himself into a mental funk.  

At that Oswald slides from where he's perched on the desk, cupping the sides of Edward's face. Tilting his chin up to look at him. "There's nothing wrong with you, Edward. You're just different." 

Edward wishes he could believe that. Believe the amount of warmth Oswald puts into the phrase. But he knows it's a hollow platitude deep in his gut, though he still thanks Oswald for the reassurance. "Back to the matter at hand, I suppose this means I won't be meeting Mrs. Penguin?"

Oswald smiles and laughs, letting go of Ed's face and standing. "Goodness no, I've only just got her to accept grandkids most likely won't be by blood. No need to get her hopes up that I'll even be married by bringing around a gentleman."
“Most likely?”
“Surrogacy, that sort of thing.” Oswald waves his hand dismissively. “It’s unimportant. The Cobblepot name is worth just as much, if not more, when given to a child in need of a loving home. Lord only knows orphans are a dime a dozen in Gotham.” The comment strikes Edward as a little rude, but Oswald is particularly harder to read than most. And he’s not great at that to begin with. There’s likely a subtlety he’s missing. 

“More to the point.” Ah yes. He’s still talking, best to pay attention, Edward. “I may have hastily agreed to a few outings with Kristen and her…” Oswald waves his hand for a moment. “Well I’m not exactly in company that likes the man. That creature she’s dating.” Edward opens his mouth to remind him of Dougherty's name but is stopped with a hand. “His name isn’t worth remembering. He sighs. “I’ll make sure to keep you updated on the double date’s from hell front. Provided she doesn’t bring it up to you on her own.”
“Of course”
“Alright well. Is there anything else?”
“How much PDA would be appropriate? If it’s for the purpose of selling the bit, I’m not opposed to a certain degree of it.”
“Well we wouldn’t be making out in the streets of Gotham, so no need to worry there.” Oswald thinks for a moment. Fingers drumming the side of the desk before a deviously playful grin slides across his face. “Unless you wanted to.” 

 Edward, mid sip of his drink, nearly spits it out, face red. His admission slipped out before he could stop himself. “Only if you hold a knife to my throat.”
Oswald looks him up and down for a moment, he’s not horrified or angry. He looks… intrigued. “Noted. I’ll keep a switchblade on me if I’m feeling like some petty public indecency in an alley. I think for the most part I’ll be holding onto your arm, with the leg and all. Hand holding, cheek kisses, I do love a good hand on the back every once in a while. Essentially if you feel like touching me, I’ll generally be okay with it provided it’s not overly suggestive for the situation.” A pause. “If I’m angry, that is generally a good time to not touch me.” 
“Noted. I’m… not entirely sure what I like so I’ll let you know if something makes me uncomfortable.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Oswald takes a few moments to get Edward’s measurements, murmuring something about getting him a suit or two. He mutters out his own response that Oswald doesn’t have to, but he wouldn’t complain. They spend a few moments filling each other in on little details they might need to know as they finish their drinks before the sound of some sort of scuffle can be heard on the other side of the door and the man scowls. 

“I think that’s enough for the night, Edward. I appreciate you coming down here to speak with me.” He says as he shows the taller man to the door. Edward goes for the knob, opening the door a little before it’s shut again, Oswald’s hand pressed firmly against it, the other hand trailing up the outside of his thigh and slipping under his sweater for a moment. The touch is light and teasing, a dark chuckle can be heard behind him.

“Knives, hm? I’ll have to remember that.” Oswald’s hand smooths over his stomach, fingers splayed and Edward is briefly aware that he’s not as in shape as he possibly could be. But Oswald doesn’t seem bothered as the hand retreats out from under his sweater and he backs up. Allowing Edward out of the room with a murmured thank you from him, quickly making his way through the club as Oswald goes to handle whatever ruckus was going on. Ed hadn’t stopped to find out. 

Edward does manage to at least get to his bed before he’s taking a very shaky breath, the skin on his side and stomach where Oswald had touched him feels like it’s burning. Even after their second private meeting he still hasn’t got any idea why he has such a reaction to the barest touches from the man. Perhaps it’s how long he’s spent alone, he thinks as he frantically wrestles himself out of his clothes. Ignoring his other self standing at the foot of his bed, looking self satisfied. 

Fingers shaking he manages to undo his shirt buttons, his own fingers feeling like brands as he runs them over the spot on his stomach where Oswald had touched, sucking in a shaking breath as his other hand slides lower, unhooking his belt and fumbling open the dress pants he’d chosen for the evening. 

Moaning as he wraps a hand around his hardening cock, pumping it a couple times before running his hand over the head to slick it. He imagines it’s Oswald’s hand, the man would probably have a light touch to start, teasing him. Getting him worked up until he’s painfully hard and throbbing in his hand before wrapping his hand around Edward’s cock properly. He mimics the images in his head. Gripping himself tight and setting a near brutal pace, fisting his cock like there’s a gun to his head, or more aptly a knife to his throat.  

Pleasure lances down his spine at that thought and his pace stutters for a moment, reaching down further into his pants with his other hand. Squeezing his balls gently as though that’ll stave off his impending orgasm just a little more, though as it stands he’s racing towards the finish line faster than he expected. 

“Oswald…” He groans, chanting the criminal Kingpin’s name like a mantra, as though it’ll make the man appear in his apartment to finish the job. 

He wants to slow down, wants to draw it out, sink into his fantasy. But he’s too worked up.  

“Aw, poor sweet little Ed. About to bust over me?”  

In his head Oswald leans down, swiping his tongue over the head of Edward’s cock and that’s it, he’s cumming in his hand with a strangled groan. Back arching off the bed as his legs start to cramp slightly from how they’re stretching out. Eventually slumping back onto his bed and exhaling shakily. Trying to catch his breath.  

There was something critically wrong with him, there had to be. 

‘No. You’re just a virginal perverted freak.’ The shade at the foot of his bed supplies with no small amount of sick glee. 

Maybe he was. But perhaps if he plays his cards right in this scenario they’re perpetuating, he’ll be able to rectify the ‘virginal’ part.

Chapter Text

Dress casual. Dress casual? Oswald has not dressed casual for the past several years of his damn life, he thinks as he aggressively paws through his clothes. If he had to go out and buy new clothes for this nonsense to work out he was going to be very angry, not that he didn’t have the money for it. There was an unfortunate time limit before he had to go meet Edward and Kristen and… Thomas. His lips twitch into a sneer, for his friend’s sake he’ll humor her blowhard boyfriend, if only to buy time before he talks sense into her. More or less. Flinging open another wardrobe, he lets himself slide back in time a little.  

“Oh hey! You mom finally let you get your haircut!”
Ozzie reaches up and touches the ends of his short cropped hair. “Mmm. It’s not as short as I’d like it, but I was only just able to convince her to let me go for a bob.”
Krissy giggles and he holds out a hand to help her up onto the brick wall he’s perched himself on, skipping class again. Handing her half of his sandwich she eats voraciously. And not for the first time he considers committing a violent crime.
“Mother forgot lunch again?”
“... She’s not feeling well.” She finishes the sandwich. “Hey… Can I- Can I tell you something, Ozzie? But you gotta promise not to tell the sisters or my family or- or anyone!” 
“Krissy. When have I ever told anyone your secrets?”
“This is true. Okay so.” Krissy sucks in a breath. “I think something’s… off with my cousin. And not like you or me ‘off’. She’s been scaring me lately.”
Ozzie sucks his cheeks in and thinks about it. “I’ll ask mom if you can stay at mine for a couple days, the weekend is coming up. It should be okay.”
“... You’re not going to do anything to her, are you?”
Oswald is quiet for the longest time.
“We’ll see.”

“Ugh, finally.” Oswald mutters as he drags out a pair of black jeans and a turtleneck sweater. With any luck they’ll still fit him, it’s about as casual as he’ll go on any given day. Trying to disguise himself not withstanding. Fortunately both items fit him well enough that he doesn’t look either choked or like he’s swimming in them. Smoothing down the turtle neck he adjusts it a little before going for his overcoat and scarf. A football game, Kristen always had an affinity for them. Dedicated to the school team or whatever, it hadn’t mattered much to him beyond joining her on the cheerleading team in order to keep the other girls from picking on her. Oswald can’t imagine Ed likes sports much either.  

The burner phone he bought buzzes and Oswald picks it up, flipping it open. 

EN: Did you know the most overtimes played in a college football game is seven?
OCC: No, I didn’t. 
EN: Me neither! Now I’m horrified at the prospect.
OCC: That makes two of us.

It was an interesting habit of Edward’s to text him riddles and little facts throughout the day, the first few times it’d been annoying. But after a while, it was more endearing than anything, it’s not too intrusive and Edward is patient. Which is a miracle in itself because he’d stab the man if he was in the middle of his business and was getting pestered over text. Making his way out to the road from his manor, slipping through the pedestrian entrance to the little gated community that held his house and a few others. (Lord knows he wasn’t going to have Edward come up to the house.) Waiting patiently until he sees that pale forest green car driving up, the tall man getting out of the car and hurrying around to open the door for Oswald. A touching gesture he really didn’t have to do in the absence of witnesses, but it still warmed his heart. 

“I would hope you hadn’t texted me while driving, Edward.”
“Oh no, well. Kind of, I was at a stoplight.”
“Well no one’s perfect.”
Edward huffs out a small laugh and gets back in the car. “You um, look good by the way.”
“Thank you. I’ll admit I don’t have a lot of casual wear, so hopefully Kristen accepts that I’m not in a three piece suit for once.” Oswald chuckles as they get on their way to the stadium. 
“I’m not exactly one for sports myself, I avoided games in high school and college. Most of the people who attended were the people who bullied me during the week anyways.” Edward sighs.
“Mmm… The most I ever did with high school sports was cheerleading. And even then I only joined because Kristen was nervous about it.”
“You were a cheerleader?”
“My leg wasn’t always a mangled mess of bone and sinew.”  
“Fair enough. It would not surprise you to know you’re the first cheerleader I’ve had a full conversation with one.”

Oswald can’t help but laugh heartily at that, he does feel a little bad though. For all his quirks and idiosyncrasies, Edward was rather pleasant company. However he can still understand Kristen’s reservations about the man, if one isn’t eased into it somewhat (there’s only so much one could expect Edward to curb himself) Edward could come off very odd or suspicious or creepy. They lapse into a mostly comfortable silence, really if anything the air in the car was slightly tense at the prospect of both having to go to an event neither were particularly interested in. As well as the unpleasant prospect of dealing with Kristen’s boyfriend. 

“Um. I have to admit, I’m extremely nervous about this whole thing. And… could I tell you something in confidence, Mr. Penguin?”
“Edward we’ve been over this, it’s okay to call me Oswald outside of pretending.” He reassures gently. “But yes, you can tell me whatever you’d like.”
“... I really didn’t want to show up. I’m… I’m scared of Officer Dougherty bullying me in public of all things. If he’s comfortable mocking me at work then-”

He’s white knuckling his steering wheel, and Oswald can’t help but be reminded of the memory from earlier of Krissy telling him her concerns about her cousin. At a stoplight, Oswald gently peels one of Edward’s hands off of the steering wheel and holds it tenderly. Giving it a gentle squeeze.  

“I promise if he tries to mock you, I will shut it down. I don’t care that he’s a police officer, or stronger than me, or whatever other factor could be involved. Besides, if he decides to take issue with me, that’s really on him for trying to fight a disabled man in public.” Oswald says with a sinister and self satisfied smirk on his face. He didn’t like to rely on his injury to get his way, but he knows Doughterty’s type. “Consider it one of the other added perks of dating a criminal.”  

He lets go of Ed’s hand when the light turns and it feels like some of the tension has left the car and the two converse lightly until they’re turning into the filling parking lot and Oswald goes quiet, allowing Edward to focus on finding someplace to park. Eventually finding a spot that Kristen seems to have adamantly saved for them nearby her own vehicle. A peach, that girl. Getting out of the car, Oswald is suddenly hit with the unnerving feeling of being watched. Like someone has iced the back of his neck and he looks around, eyes scanning the crowds of college kids and football fans alike to see if there was anyone in particular he could recognize or felt off. He spends just a touch too long doing so, turning when Kristen touches his shoulder.

“Oz? Everything okay?”

Giving the crowd one more look, mouth a thin line before he smiles easily at her. “Thought I heard my name, it’s a bit hard to shift out of the mentality from my ‘day job’ sometimes.” He laughs a little before looking over at Edward who seems zeroed on one spot, mouth slightly open as he stares. “Edward, dear.”

The man turns his head to look at Oswald, almost in a trance before looking between him and Kristen and shaking his head a little. Pushing his glasses back up. “I- sorry. I spaced out there. Hello Ms. Kringle! Lovely afternoon for a sporting event.” That ‘god I wish I was dead’ polite smile is back and Oswald does his best to keep his amused smile off his face. Though that’s made very easy when the fourth member of their little outing makes himself known.

“Well I’ll be! I thought Kristen was nuts when she said that Riddle Man was dating a known criminal. You really are a freak, huh Nygma?”
“Tom.”
Oswald clucks his tongue. “You know normally when someone meets their partner’s childhood best friend, whether or not they’ve got ties to the underworld, one would expect there to be manners involved.” Oswald takes a couple steps towards the cop, looking up at him. “And whatever you say on your own time is your business, but as long as we’re out together, I would appreciate it if you treated my darling Edward with a little respect.” He keeps his voice low and dangerous. 
“Yeah sure man.” Tom clears his throat. “Sorry Riddl- I mean Ed.” 

Oswald smiles as Kristen pulls her boyfriend back to her car, clearly whispering to him in an angry tone. Really all he’s able to catch is her reminding the blowhard that Oswald would not hold back if he shot his mouth off. And he can’t help but be self satisfied. Strolling over to Edward, he reaches out and gives his arm a squeeze.

“You okay?”

“Yeah I thought I saw something glinting in the tree line while you were looking around.”
“You think it’s worth checking out?”
“Maybe.”
“After the game, then. We’ll check it out.”
 

Edward hums and the quartet eventually makes their way to the entrance to the stadium, locating seats. The forensic scientist is a consummate gentleman as he helps Oswald with the stairs, they’re not overly steep or anything that would give him any trouble normally but it’s a nice touch that has him wondering if he should have gone after more nerdy guys this entire time. Finally sitting down on the bench, it occurs to him that he likely won’t be able to see much with everyone standing but honestly, that won’t be too much of an issue. It’s not like he’d been eager to watch the game anyways. To fill the silence he asks Kristen about the game and the season, his friend launching into an almost Edward-esque explanation of the season so far, any controversy and scandals, everything one could possibly want to know. 

They continue chatting as the game starts, Oswald standing at first, actually showing some interest in the game despite having almost no idea what’s going on. Edward and Tom are mostly quiet, as to be expected as they actively dislike each other, really only there for their respective partners. He does get some amount of joy that Tom seems a little lost, though not so much a fool to think the man has never been into sports in his life. Halftime comes sooner than he’d expected and the cop excuses himself to use the bathroom. Edward offers to purchase hot chocolate or cider for them, to which they agree and the man excuses himself. Oswald and Kristen huddle for warmth for a little before he clears his throat.

“So. Tom seems um… Well to put it politely he’s not what I remember your type being.”

She stiffens before relaxing and sighing heavily. “I was wondering when that question was going to come. I don’t… I don’t know Ozzie. A lot happened.”
“Are you happy?”
“I’m not disowned.”

Oswald scowls but accepts this answer for now at least. He had his own issues and reservations about her family, always has, always will. But this was no place to argue.  

“If he hurts you, or treats you badly, promise you’ll tell me?”
“... Promise you won’t hurt him?”
He sucks his teeth. Normally he’d make a vague promise, but… “I can’t make that promise, Krissy. You know I can’t. I can at least promise that if you tell me about it after the fact, I won’t go out and stab him to death. However. If I see him do anything, well at that point I can’t promise I’d even be able to control myself.”
Kristen chews her lip. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Their silence isn’t exactly comfortable, but she does rest her head on his shoulder for a moment. He reaches over and pats her shoulder before murmuring that he needs to sit down, she makes a noise of understanding and lifts her head. 

“How did you hurt your leg, if I may ask?”
“Occupational hazard.” 
“Why this line of work?”
“If you control the underworld, you can control the city.”

Kristen is quiet for a while, there’s no tension anymore and he gets the sense that she’s contemplating his words rather than judging him. Edward eventually comes back and hands out the hot chocolate. Begrudgingly handing Kristen a fourth one for Tom. Oswald sips the drink, shivering a little. Making little comments to Kristen as Edward situates himself behind Oswald, providing a bit more warmth as well as letting the older man to shift back a little and stretch out his leg. He also enjoys the feeling of one of Edward’s long gangly arms wrapping itself around his waist. Almost marveling at how slim the man is. It’s really been a while since he’s been this intimate with another person, so he’d be lying if he wasn’t pleasantly but acutely aware of Ed’s hand on him. Perhaps it’s a little bit of payback on Edward’s part? For how Oswald ran his hand over Edward’s stomach the other night. Fair play. He thinks as he sips the drink.

“So Krissy-”
“Ugh, Tom you know I don’t want you calling me that!”
“Christ. Fine. Kristen. Where did you want to get dinner?”
“I’ve told you four times, if you can’t remember that’s your problem.” A cup is held out to him. “Ozzie can you hold this while I use the restroom?” 

She sounds exasperated, he takes the cup. There’s a few moments of blissful silence, Edward perhaps a little tense behind him with Kristen no longer between him and his tormentor. Then of course, as most unfortunately heterosexual men do, Thomas decides to do the unthinkable and open his mouth.

“You fellas really got it all figured out, don’t have to deal with any lip from a lady. Don’t understand how you could be friends with her for so long, Cobblepot. She’s got a mouth on her.”

And he’s got a knife on him , what is this idiot’s point? Oswald does his best to ignore it but Edward’s hand has fisted itself into the fabric of his turtleneck.  

“Besides, Ed’s halfway to being a woman anyways.” 

It’s said with the air of a playful joke but Ed’s hand is starting to dig into his flesh now. Oswald’s teeth grind. Kristen comes back and he’s got an idea.

“So Krissy, how has the records room been treating you lately?” The amount of care he actually has for what her filing job is like is minimal. But the palpable irritation rolling off of the man is reward enough. With a very minor squabble about filing methods between her and Edward. Nothing major, quickly stopped by Oswald leaning back and giving Edward’s cheek a little kiss. Throwing him off his train of thought which is just as well as the game is starting back up. Oswald almost elbowing the man in the face when Edward nuzzles into the crook of his shoulder, yawning against the fabric of his wool coat. Oswald leans his head back. 

“You getting bored?”
“A little. Sorry for startling you.”
“Mm. Not used to physical intimacy lately, most people behind me are trying to kill me.”
“That’s understandable. Admittedly I can’t stop thinking about what I think I saw. You felt something too didn’t you? I noticed you looking around.”
“I did. How are you holding up in general, by the way?”
“Better than expected. I certainly won’t be changing my mind about him anytime soon, but I haven’t been publicly humiliated.”

Their conversation lapses into silence as Oswald nods in understanding. Edward’s general involvement in any chatting has significantly died down and he’s acutely aware of him jiggling one of his legs, restless. He’d be annoyed if he wasn’t used to this, Kristen would get overwhelmed a lot when they were younger so he politely excuses them. 

“Edward just needs a little break, if you’d excuse us.”
“C’mon the game’s almost over can he really not-”
Oswald levels the cop with a glare as he takes Edward’s hand to be helped to his feet. “If the game ends while we’re away, we’ll meet you two by the cars. But I assure you it won’t be fun if he stays.”

Kristen murmurs to let them go and shoots them a sympathetic look. But Oswald is already leading Edward out of the stadium by the hand, the taller man giving it a squeeze in thanks. Edward leans back on the stone of the outside of the stadium, taking a long sip of his hot chocolate as Oswald looks over at the area of the treeline. There’s probably not enough time for the a thurough inspection, and it’s going to be a bit of rough going anyways due to the sunlight quickly disappating. Eventually Edward sighs, stretching out and looking in that direction as well. 

“You’re really curious, huh?”
“Well, three out of the four people on this outing I’d prefer not to be hurt. But mostly it’s just the immense amount of curiousity about what could possibly be over there. Best case scenario, it’s about someone else, worst case scenario, I help you clean up a crime scene.”
“I would expect you to do something so gruesome.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but as a forensic scientist I am more than used to the task. And I can insure you won’t be implicated in anything. After all, why else would you date me?”

Oswald holds back the compliments, it’s not really the time for it but there’s a few more reasons than that. Perhaps later he’ll regale the man with his postive qualities. For now it’s peaceful silence as they enjoy the peaceful fall evening. 

“When strong, I can withstand any distance. When true, nothing can destroy me. When honest, time cannot weaken me. But I am still incredibly fragile. What am I?”
Oswald thinks for a few moments. Love is a possibility. Trust. Loyalty. But none of those seem like what Ed’s looking for. “Mmmm…. I’m almost there, but not quite. Give it to me, Edward.”
“Friendship. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together and apart so far, indulging in my little texts, respecting my boundaries and even this! I haven’t met a lot of people who can tell when I’m overwhelmed.”
He takes a long drink of his hot chocolate, finishing the drink. “Don’t tell her I told you this, she’d be incredibly embarrassed by it, but Kristen used to be the same way. You heard her when I asked her about the game.”
“Yes! I was surprised. Normally I’m the one going on about something. It was nice to have it be someone else for a change. Sort of explains why you’re so patient with me, now that I think about it.” 

Oswald makes his way to a trashcan and dumps his cup, Edward close behind as they make their way to the cars to wait. The kingpin doing a short hop backwards to sit on the trunk, patting his pockets before mentally swearing. This wasn’t the coat with cigarettes in it, it wasn’t a chronic habit. He abhorred smelling like tobacco and smoke, but it was at least a way to past the time. Sighing, he leans back, giving up on the idea when a pack is held out to him. His brand and everything.

“How did-?”
“I saw a pack when I was poking around your apartment. Only one was used and it was in a drawer, you’ve also never smelled like them nor do you seem to keep a lighter on you at all times. And if you really were a chronic smoker you’d have been up and down a lot during the game. So probably a casual habit if you don’t keep them on you. Figured I’d keep one with me. Really sell the boyfriend angle.” 

He takes Edward up on that sliding one out of the pack once it’s opened and leaning in to let Edward light it. Passing the time taking slow drags on it as his partner for the evening tells him little anecdotes and stories about his forensic job. It’s interesting and provides a decent amount of info he can use. Whether Ed is intending to or not. Eventually people start filing out and he does Edward the small courtesy of not stubbing out the cigarette on the man’s car. Exchanging pleasantries with Kristen as Tom glares daggers into his skull, likely still pissed off about the ‘Krissy’ issues. But that’s none of Oswald’s concern as long as he doesn’t lay a hand on Kristen. The two couples split part ways, the two men looking between each other. 

“You’re pretty good at pretending to be into a man.”
“It helps when you’re chronically starved for affection. So, are we driving around back and walking through the woods to that spot?”
“Sounds like a plan. Are you sure that’s it, though.”
“... It’s… partially it. I’m not sure, really. I think potentially I am not as straight as I would have assumed. But I’ve also never met anyone like you before, I’ve never been touched the way you’ve touched me and it’s not even that intimate.” Edward is amazing at multitasking, unpacking his own psyche as he maneuvers around to a back road almost directly behind where he’d been looking earlier. “Well, not overtly intimate I suppose?”
“The intent was to tease you a little yes, I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable?”
“No! I… I liked it.”

Oswald thinks for a few moments before lightly resting his hand on Edward’s knee, nothing sordid and not moving his hand, he listens to the soft intake of breath it causes. Slowly, testingly, he slips his hand up to Ed’s mid thigh, keeping it light and unassuming. More teasing as he smiles. Turning, he leans in close. “I would be willing to help you through your confusion, you just have to ask, Edward.” He accents the statement with a slow, gentle bite to Edward’s earlobe. Drawing it out for maximum effect, enjoying the shaky exhale and watching Ed’s fingers flex around the steering wheel.
“I hope that’s not a time sensitive offer, as I’m rather tempted but… we really should figure out what’s been going on.” 
Edward sounds like he’s considering canceling their little escapade into the woods but they’ve come this far. “Whenever you want to take me up on that, you’re the only one who has my number.” He gives Edward’s thigh once last squeeze before he gets out of the car and adjusts his jacket.

 Edward leaves his headlights on for illumination, the pair sharing what Oswald could only describe as a heated look before he winks and looks back to the woods. Carefully making his way into them with his hand in his pocket around the switchblade he’d brought with. A different one this time. More easily concealable should anyone at the stadium have attempted to search them, they carefully comb the woods, looking around for anything as they make their way over to the area where Edward was looking. At one point Edward holds his arm out.

“Hold on. Do you have a knife?”
“Of course I have a knife.” He pulls it out and hits the button on it. Holding it out to Edward handle first. 
“Thank you, keep walking forward please.” 

Oswald is suspicious, but continues to do as instructed, carefully inspecting the ground and underbrush as he does so. There’s the sound of something happening behind him, a small noise of surprise coming from Edward before a sigh and the sound of the knife sawing through something. Oswald spots something faintly glinting on the ground and walks over to it, turning his head to the side. There’s something there but he can’t quite make it out. With a grunt of effort he crouches down to brush the leaves away before picking up the small object and inspecting it in his hand. It’s a shoe, a doll's shoe. It reminds him of the ones his mother had kept from her youth, but this one is far less loved and far more expensive. Oswald’s brow furrows. It tickles something in the very back of his memories, something he can’t quite place and it’s going to drive him a little mad.

“What’d you find?”
Oswald sucks in a breath, elbows meeting his hears. “Jee-zus! Six feet tall and you’re as quiet as a mouse.” He half snatches the switchblade back, the blade retracted. “I found a doll shoe. Probably from a porcelain doll.”
“Hm. That’s odd… Was it under the brush?”
“No, it was on top. Pretty obviously too.”
“I think someone was setting a trap. I’m not sure how it was supposed to work… There’s an element missing that we just don’t have. A doll’s shoe in the brush directly in line with an amateurish trip wire attached to a weighted net trap. The net wasn’t too hard to cut through, so the intended target was likely not going to have a knife on them. Something, or some one , would have had some kind of way to get their victim from that shoe to the net trap. But what?” Edward’s talking out loud. Oswald thinks about how he’d have done it. 
“Probably a note of some kind, or a phone call. Perhaps a prearranged meeting. Whatever was going on here has nothing to do with us.” The connection between and expensive doll’s shoe and himself is shaky at best. But something isn’t letting him drop the shoe back in the brush. So he slips it into his pocket. “Still, I wonder why we both had our alarms raised… if it’s not about either of us.”

“Nothing we can do about that now, I suppose. Should I take you home? Or should we get dinner.”
Oswald sucks on his teeth, thinking. “Do you have any forensic supplies at your apartment?”
“I may have some to do personal experiments. I’d have you know though, I wouldn’t be telling you this if you weren’t in the trade you are.”
“Stolen from work, got it. In that case,” He pats the pocket with the shoe in it. “I think I’d like to have dinner at yours, before I head home. If that’s alright with you.”
Edward’s eyes light up at the possibility of figuring out more of this puzzle. “That sounds like a plan. Shall we?” He holds out his arm for Oswald to take, which he’s more than happy to do so. The pair making their way back to the car. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Kristen gave up on dinner, kicking Tom out of her car at his place before abruptly taking a U-turn and speeding off back to her own. Pulling into the space in front of her townhome and making her way up the steps and into her house. Annoyed at the flashing of her answering machine once she gets in, turning and locking the door. Letting her purse and coat fall to the floor, thoughts swirling in her head. What Oswald asked her about her life choices, what Oswald said about his own ambitions. It’s all a lot to take in especially after fighting with Tom over dinner of all things. She hits the answering machine on her way to her liquor cart, pulling out a glass and pouring herself a glass of whiskey her mother would have been proud of as the machine whirs to life. Strolling back into the front hall, she kicks off her shoes and leans against the wall opposite to the machine. Sipping her drink as it plays. Ads, late night file request from Gordon and Bullock, her father once again calling to inform that he’s divorced her mother and wants a second chance. 

Sighing, she walks over to the machine, intending to delete all the messages when the last one makes her stop.

“Hello, my darling cousin, I’m so disappointed you’ve got me blocked on your cell! I tried calling… I saw you out at the football game today, did you see me? Your new friends did. I really wanted to play a game with you, Jingle Bell! I did happen to leave something in those woods by the parking lot… would you like to help me find it? I’d really apprecia-”

That’s enough, she yanks the machine off the table and the cord out of the wall. If anyone wants to contact her they can use her cell number. Downing the rest of her whiskey she sets the glass down hard and half stumbles into her kitchen, slamming the answering machine into her trash can before sliding down her cabinets and succumbing to her panic attack.

Tom’s increasingly alarming temper feels like the least of her concerns at the moment. She has no idea what her deranged cousin is up to, but she can’t let it affect Ozzie or Edward. 

Kristen refuses to let her friends and her life get taken away from her again. 

Chapter Text

Edward stares at his phone, it’s a weekend and he as usual has nothing to do other than stare at his phone and think about his continued interactions with one Oswald Cobblepot. This time though, the thought of how to thank the man for the very fine things he’s bought him is swirling in his head. His own savings aren’t paltry, but they’re savings nonetheless and Oswald had mentioned he needn't shower him in gifts. Pushing himself out of bed he walks over to his coffee table, sinking onto the couch and looking at the opened boxes in front of him. The man had purchased three very fine suits for him, with a couple pairs of matching shoes as well. Entire ensembles really, including a new watch. It’s more than he’d expected to receive from the man, but at the same time seems a fitting gift for him to give. 

'He thinks you're not good enough to be seen with if you pick out your own clothes. You should let me handle it. I'll get our sexuality figured out real quick.'

"You just want to sleep with him, not appreciate him." Ed mutters, picking up one of several rubix cubes scattered around the couch to fiddle with as he contemplates how to repay the man for his company and his kindness. Truly, he's never been treated so well in his life and something warm is starting to burn in his chest that frightens him more than the physical attraction to the other man. 

'Guilty, I suppose. But something to fuck is something to fuck.'

When did the shade get so vulgar, he vaguely wonders not daring to think of the fact that the hallucination is indeed himself. He settles on inviting Oswald out this evening. There's a nice rooftop lounge he's finally got the attire for. They can enjoy the Gotham skyline, share a drink, talk and… and perhaps he'll take Oswald up on his offer from the night of the football game. Taking a deep breath and shaking his arms and hands out to relieve some of the stiff tension in them he picks up his phone, flipping it up and dialing Oswald's number. It rings. It goes to voicemail and his stomach drops, flipping the phone closed without leaving a message, horrified at his own impulsive decision. Before he can go too far down the path of self deprecation though, the phone lights up in his hand and he quickly flips it open. 

“Hello?”
“Edward! My apologies, friend. I had left the phone in a different suit jacket. I had some ah… business to attend to today and seeing as you’re the only number in my phone, I felt it best to not risk you getting involved.” He sounds out of breath, and like he’s outside still. The sound of a trunk slamming shut close by, presumably Oswald. 
“How kind of you.”
“I’d feel terrible if this charade got you hurt, Edward. I assume you called for a reason, though? Normally you’d just text.”
“Ah. Yes. I um, I got your gifts. They’re very nice.”
“Oh lovely! And the fit?”
Okay Nygma, here’s your shot. Don’t blow it. “Well I was hoping you could check the fit yourself. In person. Over drinks and appetizers? There’s this rooftop lounge that’s intrigued me, but I’ve had neither the clothes nor the company required.” 
“Oh. That sounds lovely, Ed.” A pause and then Oswald’s voice is very playful and sly. “Are you asking me on a date?”

‘I don’t know, are we Eddie?’
“You keep quiet.”
“Excuse me?!”
“I- Sorry. Neighbors.”

He pushes up his glasses out of reflex. “And um, maybe? If not romantically then at least a date as friends. Is that even something people do? I don’t have anyone to hang out with, really. I’d be spending time in my apartment all night doing nothing.”
“Well I can’t have that.” Oswald still sounds a bit put off by him firing his mouth off at the hallucination. “I would be happy to accompany you, and see how the suit fits you.”
“Excellent. It’s called Sigma Casseiopeia, it’s called that because-”

There’s noises on the other end of the line and Oswald swears softly over the line. “I have to take care of something, Edward darling. However I will be more than happy to hear about why they call it that when we meet up. How about-” There’s the sounds of gunshots and Oswald’s uneven gait on pavement before the sound of a car door being solidly shut, the vehicle starting up. “Nine pm, I’ll meet you there?”
“Sounds good. Good luck?” 
 
There’s no response before Oswald hangs up and Edward is left both worried about his friend, not to mention wondering if he can even call Oswald his friend. And anxious about his own feelings and their… date. It still hasn’t been sorted if it’s a date or not, but he assumes no. Based on the playful nature of Oswald’s tone. Not that that’s really a dampener on the evening, the other man made it very clear to him that he wasn’t opposed to having a physical element to their relationship outside of pretending to be in love. Entertainment for the evening sorted, he stands up and goes to his dining table this time and the papers strewn over it. Back to the distraction he’s been using to escape his budding emotional turmoil over a man he should have thrown under the proverbial bus, but didn’t for a kiss of all things. 

Something that, in addition to his new knife kink, occupies all the space in his brain when he lays down for the night. Shaking that from his head he looks over the papers spread out over the table, extensive detailed photos of that porcelain shoe and samples he’d gone back to snag of the other parts of the trap. Obsessed with this bizarre happenstance and digging up everything he could find. Which admittedly wasn’t much, and none of it could have possibly led to any sort of conclusion. But the fact that the shoe had itched at Oswald’s memory. The man had sat near silent on the couch the other night when not asked questions or eating dinner, staring into space. Coming off a bit annoyed when Edward had interrupted to ask small questions about the shoe or cuisine preferences. Not a relatable action to Edward, as he rarely had any trouble recalling anything, though Oswald has likely encountered far more head injuries in his line of work. All that aside, the doll’s shoe was a French maker, not German, fully ruling out anything having to do with Oswald. Hungarian and German were not the same, naturally, but his mother would be more likely to get porcelain dolls from a German maker. 

There’s also no enemies he has that’d have anything to do with porcelain dolls. And to his knowledge, neither did Kristen or Detective Gordon. He really couldn’t care less if it had anything to do with Bullock or not, but that didn’t matter because that’s ruled out as well. Deep in his thoughts, he almost doesn’t hear the knocking at his door. Curious, he wonders briefly if his faux beau (he snickers at his own rhyme) had chosen to use his place for a hideout. Only to be surprised when he opens the door.

“Ms. Kringle.”
“Please, Edward, just call me Kristen outside of work.”
“Kristen, then. What is… How do you know where I live?”
“I looked up your address in the employee files.”

Fair enough. He may or may not have done the same thing to her. Never went there of course, but he did it.

“Makes sense. Did you need something? I haven’t made a habit of having files travel home with me in a while. Only took three reprimands.” He jokes, with a tinge of worry. She looks haggard, hair not as perfectly coiffed as usual. 
“Oh I was just- this is going to sound crazy, has a woman approached you at all these past few days? Asking you odd questions about me or Ozzie? Or your relationship with him?”
Ed’s brow furrows. “No… Ms. Krin- Kristen, are you in trouble? Do you need help?”
“It’s nothing. Just a personal matter.” Her tone is clipped and he feels bad about asking for a moment. 
“You seem stressed, would you like to come in for a moment? It’s bitterly cold today, I could make you a cup of tea?”
She sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, considering his offer before opening them. “I could use something to warm me up. Thank you, Ed.”  

Smiling, he lets her in and allows her to slip out of her coat while he hastily cleans up the papers on the dining table. Not wanting her to see he’s been using the machines at work for his own personal investigation. Besides, it's not something that’d concern her. Or…. The file sorted and slipped into a drawer, he turned to look at her.

“Do you know anything about porcelain dolls?”
Kristen gives him an odd look. “Ozzie’s mom had a couple of vintage ones she kept from her childhood in Hungary. That woman adored them. She’d do our hair up like them when we were little. Oswald hated it.”
“Couldn’t imagine why.”
There’s a huffed out laugh. “Why do you ask?”

Damn. Now he needed to lie. “I was thinking of getting his mother a gift, a doll seemed like a decent route considering her attachment to the ones she has. But dolls are woefully out of my realm of expertise. It was presumptuous of me to assume that since you’re a woman you’d know about dolls, I apologize.” He hurries it out and focuses on making the tea. Listening to her heels on the hardwood of his floor. She pauses by the gift boxes on the coffee table. 

“No offense taken. Oh Edward, these are exquisite. A gift from Oz?” 

"Yes. I'm very flattered, honestly, I've never received a gift this expensive before."

"He likes spoiling the people he loves, though I suppose I don't need to tell you that." There's a pause, Ed moves to take the kettle off the stove as it starts to whistle. "What do you think of his work?"

"Am I answering this candidly or as someone talking with their coworker from a police station?"

"Candidly. We're not on the clock."
“I… admittedly I can’t help but admire his drive, from such humble beginnings to where he is now with the underworld under his heel. Someone like me, where I came from. I can’t… I can’t even imagine it. Yeah, he got bullied and picked on as a kid but he let that fuel him. Meanwhile I’m…. getting bullied as an adult.” 

A brief expression of guilt crosses her face as he holds a mug out to her. Blowing on it a little she takes a sip, if it’s too hot, which he knows it to be, she doesn’t show it. 
  

“I thought I’d be more worried, personally. That I’d be horrified, or that I’d… disapprove or something. I mean I can’t say that I DO approve of the crimes that he’s doing.” Kristen lifts her hand to chew at her fingernails, staring off into nothing. Something seems to jerk her out of her stupor and she puts the mug down. “I’m holding you up. Thank you for the tea Edward. I’ll see you, Monday.”
It’s an abrupt turn around and he feels like he has a little bit of whiplash. “Wait! Kristen! That woman you asked about… should Oswald or I be worried?”
Kristen pauses at the door and turns to look at him. Studying him before smiling. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve got it handled.” She closes the door behind her, leaving him in his apartment with two mugs of hot tea. 
 
“I suppose I’ll just… drink this myself.”
‘That’s it? Not more fanfare about finally having a woman in our apartment?’ 

“Shut up.”
‘Only have eyes for Oswald, I see.’
“Shut. Up. We have a date to get ready for.” 

‘Not pretending anymore. I like it.’

Edward goes to his bathroom to start getting ready, ignoring the hallucination as he cackles at him. 

Edward straightens his glasses for the fifth time in twenty minutes, incredibly anxious. Oswald is late, he shouldn’t be as anxious as he is, considering the circumstances he’d heard in the phonecall earlier. But it still nags at him, rather scared and worried, about if he’s been stood up. Or if something horrid has befallen his friend. Fiddling with his phone in his hand he gives in to the nerves and flips it open, intending to text the man when he shuffles up to him, slightly out of breath. 

“I am so sorry Edward.”
“No it’s fine I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried that perhaps your earlier business had gone poorly.” He smiles awkwardly, going to hold the door to the building open for Oswald, the two making their way to the elevator that would lead to the lounge. Ed holds his tongue for a moment before deciding it’s notable enough to mention. “Kristen… came by my apartment. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Oh? What was she looking for?”
“She asked me if any strange women had approached me. An odd question, considering women don’t approach me. But she also wanted to know if said woman had asked me about our relationship.” Oswald is quiet for a bit, there’s a look on his face that’s similar to his expression from the night they found the shoe. The elevator dings open. “I asked her if she needed help, or if we should be worried. And she said no.”
“Mm. Well, I… think I agree with her assessment. But I’ve had a rather stressful day, and I’d prefer not to think about any of that tonight.” He smiles apologetically. “I do appreciate your dedication to all of this thought. If anything goes awry, please contact me?” 
“Of course.”

They approach the lounge and the hostess promptly leads them to a table out on the deck, Oswald shrugging out of his coat when he sits and Edward’s throat feels dry. The suit he’s wearing today is tailored more closely to his body, the jacket tapering in at the waist and he’s just now struck by how skinny Oswald actually is. Still, he looks stunning and Edward almost hesitates a few moments before sliding out of his coat, very aware of Oswald’s eyes on him as he sets the coat over the arm of the loveseat. Smoothing down the front of the suit he clears his throat, a flush rising to his cheeks. He’d picked the darker green one, and had impulsively forgone the tie. Hoping that would dictate his intentions rather than having to voice them, should words fail him. It’s doing the job he thinks as he sits with little grace, as Oswald’s eyes are locked on the bit of skin that’s exposed, scant that it is.

“I um- I liked the tie that went with the suit, I simply… I decided to take a risk.” He doesn’t need to explain anything and yet here he is. Explaining it. Ruining this already. “I suppose if I were more… conventionally attractive it would look better.” Shut up. Shut up Edward. Close your mouth. Oswald holds up a hand to stop him and he snaps his mouth shut. 
“You look very good, Edward. I like men who take risks.” He says, a sly smile crossing his face as he scoops up the menu on the table, looking it over. 

Edward’s brain reels and he laughs nervously, leaning in a little to look over the menu himself. He’d read a little about wine, but he feels like the price point on these would lean more towards Oswald’s expertise. So he defers to his choices when the waitress comes around, but does manage to make a few inputs when they’re asked about their meat and cheese preferences. Edward turns back to Oswald, one leg crossed over the other with his hands folded on his knees. Oswald bemused as he regards him.

“So stiff.” He teases with none of the bite that usually comes with it. “Just relax Edward, we’re just two friends having a nice time out.”  A hand finds its way to his, giving his knee a little shake, when it leaves his hands feel like they’re burning and he does his best to relax his posture. But it’s hard because at his core he is nervous. Not wanting to mess anything up even though there’s no stakes.  

“Sorry, I’m… unused to this. Even in a platonic setting.” Honesty is the best blah blah blah. 
“Well… is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

Yes. There was. But Oswald was hardly the person to talk about his burning interest in exploring his new knife kink. At least not in public. So Edward mentally thumbs through the catalog of things he would talk about with someone on his date. Immediately throwing out Oswald’s day, he’d said he didn’t want to think about that. There’s not a lot they have in common he presumes, beyond Kristen. He took a risk with the suit, however. So maybe…

“Do you know anything about video games?”
“Not a whole lot, regrettably. My mother couldn’t afford games or systems.” Oswald thinks. “There was one our mutual friend had that she really liked… Oh gosh what was it.” He furrows his brow. “There was this little elf, and this crazy looking mask…”
Edward perks up. Finally, something he could talk about. “Majora’s Mask! I adore the Legend of Zelda franchise.”
“It’s a franchise? Kris just had the one game.”
He hesitates, second guessing himself. “Would you… like to hear about it?”
“Your eyes lit up beautifully when you realized it, so why wouldn’t I?”

That’s true, so far Oswald had shown a great level of understanding of his quirks. “Okay so…” He launches into an explanation of Majora’s Mask, starting with what Oswald is used to, before branching out into the other games, the lore, the production of the game. Talking completely through the delivery of their wine and food. Oswald happily pouring the wine and letting Ed talk, seeming perfectly content to let him talk himself out as he’s handed a glass. Edward pauses, speech stuttering to a stop for a moment.

“Um, sorry I kind of went for a moment there…”
“Oh no, please. I enjoy when people talk about things they’re passionate about. Admittedly… If you had called I’d be in the same position, nothing to do on a Saturday night.” Oswald looks off at the skyline for a moment, an unreadable look in his eyes before he looks back at Edward. A simmering heat that makes Ed’s stomach flutter and heart jump. “Besides, I don't mind listening when the man speaking is as handsome as you.” He coos.

Those slender fingers sliding over his knee and Edward hastily takes a sip of his wine to hide the flush rising to his cheeks. He laughs a little and looks to the side. Picking at the cheese board and eating a bit before shakily going back to his explanation of the Zelda franchise. A little more shaky but not unreceptive to Oswald’s flirting and gentle touches, the man even asking some, in Edward’s opinion, very good questions. Allowing him to delve into things he hadn’t thought about the franchise since he was little. 
 
Edward’s as relaxed as he could be in this scenario. Their first bottle of wine disappears quickly and Oswald gestures for a second as the charcuterie disappears as well. The two of them drift from Zelda to various other interests, Oswald is far more complex than simply just the murderer and criminal people want to make him out to be. Well of course he was, but it was far more interesting hearing how he talks about stuff, the expressions that cross his face. It doesn’t help the warmth that’s been twisting in his chest the entire day. He wonders if he should even bring up Oswald’s offer from the other day, or if he should let things happen naturally? They’re so close now… the smaller man is practically in Edward’s lap. Ed licks his lips, considering it as he pushes up his glasses.

“You look like you want to ask something, Ed.” 

“That offer from the other night.” There’s a very sly, almost cat-like smile on Oswald’s face, a subtle glance at that little bit of skin exposed by his undone collar. The movement of his arm is almost liquid as he sets his glass of wine down and gives Edward his undivided attention. “It wasn’t my reason for inviting you out tonight, but I’d like to take you up on that. If you’re willing.”

The smile shifts to something warmer, more genuine. He finds it endless fascinating how Oswald can be incredibly easy to read when he wants to be or it benefits him. Oswald reaches out and rests a hand on Edward's, his thumb running over it in what feels like a line of fire tracing back and forth over his skin. It’s an intoxicating heat and he leans in, only barely cognizant of where they are despite how close they’ve gotten. 

“I’m more than willing.” He says, gesturing for the server and asking for their bill. Edward insists on paying for the evening, it was his invite after all and Oswald seems very pleased by this. Edward recalled he had a fondness for expensive gifts. Among other things from the night they hashed out their agreement. 
“This seems like a silly question now but, that little notebook you were writing in when we made our deal, what was in it? If it’s not private.” He asks while signing the check when it comes back and slipping his card from the folder. 
“Oh just notes on deals and such, a bit formal for what we were discussing, really. But keeping things like that all in one place is simply easier.”

Rather reasonable, Edward thinks as he holds out a hand for Oswald who takes it with a deceivingly demure smile. Allowing himself to be helped back into his coat before Edward puts his own back on, once again offering an elbow for the man which is happily taken. The pair make their way back to the elevator, the second the doors sliding closed, Edward is nearly swept off his feet as he’s pinned to the far wall of the cabin. Oswald kissing him almost breathless, all the air stolen from his lungs. Glasses a little askew with the force of hitting the back wall and it’s all he can do to kiss back despite it feeling like Oswald is trying to devour him. The little trails of fire left behind by Oswald’s early touches igniting all over again. As Oswald pulls back, licking his lips and looking at Edward with an expression that wouldn’t be out of line if he was going to be killed either.

Though the French did call orgasm ‘the little death’ so perhaps that’s not too far off.

“I’m sure you are aware that I’m-”
“I’ve had worse experiences than those with quote unquote ‘virgins’. I’d rather sleep with someone who’s honest about their lack of experience, than someone who acts like their the Lord’s gift to anyone with my particular set of equipment.”
Edward feels a little more reassured by this and he smiles crookedly, leaning down and kissing Oswald again. “For a pretend boyfriend, you’re rather perfect.”
“I just haven’t lost my temper with you yet.” 

There’s a bitterness there that Edward doesn’t get the chance to address as Oswald is kissing him solidly again, this time it’s slow and passionate like the kiss from the apartment and the lightning both of excitement that shoots down his spine at the thought of a knife is more than enough to get him back in the mindset of the intimate moment. Groaning slightly and almost angry when they have to part again as the elevator doors ding open at the ground floor. All the more reason for the pair to quickly make their way to Edward’s apartment. Sharing heated kisses all the while until they’re somehow kissing against Edward’s door. The taller man makes the smallest amount of space to turn around and get his door unlocked. Only to gasp and press his hands against the door as Oswald starts groping him. A very welcome sensation but not helpful in getting his door open but somehow he manages it and pulls Oswald in. Shutting the door and pressing him against it. 

“Cheeky.”
“You don’t seem to mind it.”

Oswald palms him again, giving his clothed, aching cock a squeeze. Edward groaned and pressed his forehead against the cool metal of his front door, rolling his hips into that groping touch as Oswald worked him over through his pants. Turning his head to the side to meet Oswald’s lips in another kiss, slower. Tugging Oswald back just enough to turn him and he’s not entirely sure how it happens, but they wind up on his bed. Entangled together as they try to get each other’s clothes off as hastily as possible. Suit jackets, dress shirts, Oswald’s tie, their pants and shoes, all discarded to one side or the other until they’re left in their undershirts and boxers. Edward suddenly gripped with anxiety. 

“Is… there anything I should be mindful of?” Edward swallows and licks his lips. 
Oswald smiles, warm and soft and it makes that odd heat in his chest clench oddly, trying to push it away. “I adore men like you.” He kisses Edward tenderly. “Just remember I’m a man.” 

It makes him feel bubbly on the inside, cheeks flushed. The thought of someone adoring him. “Really?”
“Oh so compliments do it too, not just knives.” The lightly teasing voice is back and he swallows thickly, kissing Oswald to prevent him from talking more about the knife thing. Despite the hot heat it sends down his spine. “Though… knives are a little much for a first time, I think I’ll stick to telling you how handsome you are and what a good job you’ve been doing.” 
  

Setting his mind to that task of chasing the high of doing a good job, or at least an adequate enough job that Oswald has a good time. He’s leaned up a little, kissing at Edward’s neck as he guides one of the man’s hands between his own legs. Encouraging him and slightly clumsily he moves his hand against Oswald through dampening boxers, trying to mimic somewhat how he’d been touched, focusing more on what makes Oswald pause in his marking of Edward’s shoulders and collar bone. Little moments where he hisses or bites down just a little harder. Taking the chance, he slips his hand up the leg of Oz’s boxers, sucking in a small breath when he’s met with damp heat. Cupping Oswald and taking a moment to steel his nerves. 

‘What are you hesitating for? It’s just a-’
“Don’t. That’s disrespectful.”

Oh dear. Oh no. Oswald pauses, his hands halfway up Edward’s undershirt.  

“Is everything okay, Edward?”
“Yes. It-”

How does one explain to the person they’re about to have sex with that they’re scolding their hallucination? 

“It’s not you. I… hear things sometimes.”
Oswald’s hands still regrettably retreat from under his shirt, but cup his face. “That’s egregiously rude of whatever you hear to interrupt.” There’s an almost cruel smirk on Oswald’s face that’s no less beautiful or attractive to Edward than his warmth and affection. “I don’t like any competition for attention, even ghosts.” A beat. “Now are you going to do anything with that hand of yours, or shall I call an exorcist?” 

“I think a therapist would be the needed professional here.” He mutters, cheeks red, chewing his lip as he parts Oswald with his fingers, running his fingers up from the man’s entrance to his cock, rubbing at it and whether or not it’s skillful at all seems to matter very little to Oswald as he arches his hips into the touch.

“There is such a thing as a sex therapy.” He manages to get out even as Edward slips his fingers back down, slipping one into Oswald as the man pulls him in, Edward notes that Oswald likes kissing during sex. Even with a partner that he doesn’t have any romantic inclinations towards. It gets filed away in his brain, if this is to be a regular thing, and he kind of hopes it is, these are crucial details to remember. After a few moments he adds a second finger, Oswald’s hands are up his undershirt once more. Feeling him up and groping at his chest and sides, feeling down his stomach to pull down his boxers. Taking Edward’s cock in hand properly and stroking it. 

It’s so much different and better than touching himself, Oswald’s hands run a little cool, if he’s being honest but it feels so nice against the overheated skin of his cock. Slender fingers stroking over his dick as he fingers the man, thinking for a moment before he presses his thumb up against Oswald’s cock, running it in circles and swallowing up the stuttery breath it draws from the man. 

“That’s enough, fuck me.” A pause. “You’re doing a good job.”

The reassurance is very nice, the warmth in his chest and his stomach burning just a little harder as he slips his fingers from Oswald’s hole, wiping them off on his bedding. Not caring much about the mess for the moment as Oswald pushes off Ed’s boxers before removing his own. 

“What would be most comfortable with your leg?”
“Now you’re just trying to get me to fall in love with you.” Oswald mutters. 

He grabs Edward’s second pillow and situates it under his own hips. Letting Ed take the lead as he leans back, there’s a few seconds of hesitation. Oswald aimlessly rubbing at his own cock, not judging or showing any impatience before Edward is pressing his cock into Oswald. The man underneath him makes small noises as he bottoms out and takes a second to center himself before slowly rolling his hips. Abruptly aware that he’s not going to last anywhere near long enough to make things worthwhile for Oswald. He expresses as much and is told to not worry about it. 

Edward thinks he’s doing a halfway decent job as he rolls his hips, Oswald groaning and rolling his hips back against Edward with far more finesse than he’s being given. He can’t hold out much longer, gasping out that he’s going to cum, Oswald panting out that he should cum on his stomach. He pulls out, giving himself a couple more strokes before he’s groaning and cumming on Oswald’s stomach. It’s cleaned up quickly and Oswald is flipping them. 

“You don’t have to do anything really other than suck me off.”

It’s all the warning he gets before Oswald is sliding his glasses off of his face and wrapping Edward’s arms around his thighs. A hand going into the man’s hair, using the curling locks to direct him around as he sucks and tongues at Oswald’s cock. The man is gasping and writhing above him, Edward unsure if it’s because his cock is simply sensitive or if what he’s doing is working. The hand in his hair tightening almost impossibly as Oswald shouts. Leaving Edward’s face a mess and the man himself a little stunned.

“That was… interesting.”
“Did you like it?” Oswald pants as he winces, stretching his leg out as he flops to the side. “Ugh. Riding your face like that was impulsive. My leg was killing me.”

Edward turns and presses a kiss to Oswald’s cheek. “Is it too forward of me to offer a massage? And perhaps a second try?” He asks, biting his lip. 
Oswald studies him for a few moments, face passive and unreadable this time. He prefers it when he can read Oswald’s expressions. “Yes, I think I could go for that.”

Edward smiles, sitting up and pulling his boxers back on for the moment to sit back on his heels at Oswald’s feet, his bad leg in hand and starting on the ankle massage. The issues of their daily lives seem somehow far away for the night as he works on Oswald’s leg, letting the man relax back against the pillows. Letting Edward spoil him for the rest of the night and into a decent amount of Sunday.

Frankly one of the best weekends of Edward’s life. Hopefully this distinct uptick in his quality of life is permanent, and not a temporary fluke. 

Chapter Text

Someone was going to get hurt by his hand tonight, Oswald thinks, hand on his cheek as he lets the sounds of his surroundings fade into a dull humming. Truthfully he's grown a little tired of the whole charade, contemplating how to end it while still keeping Edward around for his own selfish pleasure. The man had indeed been a quick learner, taking to praise and instruction wonderfully. But lately Ed's efforts as both a newly precious friend and eager lover are not enough to settle Oswald's temper at the end of the day. It wasn’t really the fact that he was bored of it, he adores Kristen and Edward has lately become a bit of a confidant. A fantastic strategist, even when Oswald keeps things purposely vague. No, the problem was on his end of things. 

Power was slipping from his fingers, more and more plans were going to ruin through some unknown means, he'd never admit it to either of them, but he'd had Kristen and Edward looked into. But the things that had gone wrong were so odd and off kilter, never involving the police for the most part. Still it left him more irritated than pleased whenever his phone buzzed with queries from Kristen delivered secondhand by Edward. It hasn't soured him on his old friend, fortunately. Speaking of… Oswald glances over at Kristen, pushing her food around on her plate and trying to inconspicuously keep her sleeves down over her arms. If he'd noticed then Edward had certainly noticed, hazarding a glance at the man that certainly seemed true. 

Oswald needed a drink, badly. That was the whole purpose of bringing Edward along, really. Was to get absolutely hammered, maybe get into a fight with someone, release some tension and still have a ride home and bail. But they’d all shown up to the cruise dinner and it was immediately apparent Kristen’s boyfriend had been pregaming this. He doesn’t even remember who’s idea this outing was at this point but it doesn’t matter. Oswald would rather be dead than be here, he’d rather Tom be dead than be here. Glancing once more at her fiddling with her sleeves he interrupts Tom without a care about what the drunk is saying. 

“Aren’t you warm, Krissy?”
She gives him a deer in headlights look. “No, I'm fine. It’s a little chilly in here, actually.”

That was a boldfaced lie if he’d ever heard one. Oswald himself is about five seconds from demanding someone turn down the heat or turn up the air conditioning or something. All three men had shed their suit jackets long ago, their drinks are weeping condensation. Kristen’s hair is frizzing up, Edward’s is curling, and he sighs.

“She just doesn’t want anyone to see her bruises.” Sometimes, Tom being a drunkard and an idiot is beneficial. Though he seems to second guess his decision making. “‘S just an accident though, you don’t gotta look at me like that.”
 
Oswald is going to look at him however he damn well pleases, very well aware he’s looking at the man as though his look itself is going to set him on fire. There’s a muscle in his cheek twitching as he holds his tongue, standing and grabbing his suit jacket to swing it around and slide it on. This man was going to turn his extremely casual smoking habit into a chronic one, going into Ed’s suit jacket to pull out the pack and the lighter. Snatching up the man’s now watered down whiskey as well.

“Well, I am going to get some air for a second. Before something happens that I definitely won’t regret, but everyone else here might.” He bites out and heads out, forgoing his cane as well as he makes his way out to the deck. If he picks the thing up it’s making nice with that bastard’s head. The whiskey is the first thing to go, being drained as he winces at the awful taste of watered down booze before he leans on the railing and taps out one of the cigarettes, holding it in his lips as he fiddles with the cheap lighter Edward keeps on him. Managing to get it working and lighting the damn thing, taking the biggest drag of it. 

Exhaling, he stands there, staring out at the harbor and at the Gotham skyline. He doesn’t want to cause trouble for anyone but this is all really testing him. He rubs a hand over his face, the concept of throwing himself off the boat is really tempting. At least if he gets yanked out of the harbor it’d be better than this, he thinks as he swirls the empty whiskey glass around aimlessly.  

There’s the sound of heels on the deck and he stays perfectly still as Kristen leans on the railing next to him. “You have another one of those?”  

"You still smoke?"

"No but I need one." She tugs her sleeves up, displaying the bruises. "He was already drinking, I was telling him off. I guess he got sick of it and grabbed me and called me a 'mouthy bitch'. I-" Kristen sighs. Oswald holds out the pack. 

Slipping one out she leans in, using the lit end of Oswald's own cigarette to light it. An old trick he'd used himself, back in the day, when they were still sorting themselves out and it was endearing to make Kristen stutter and go pink. They lapse into a semi-comfortable silence, and it's nice. Oswald would be a dirty liar if he said he never wished he could go back to the easy days of his youth. Not so much in appearance but a chance to do things over as he is now would be nice. 

"I've been thinking a lot lately, about how my life has gone. Surely things aren't easy from you Ozzie, but it seems a lot more appealing than how things are for me as it stands." Kristen sighs. "I don't even know how I'd survive in the underworld of Gotham though, day to day life in this city is already a hassle." 

"I'd make sure you're more than taken care of, if I even let you make such a terrible life choice. How did you wind up in this position anyways?" 

"After you graduated there was no one around to keep my cousin in check. So she started harassing me again. Doing all sorts of things, pretending to be me, lying to the Sisters and the Mother Superior and saying I did things I never did. The worst of it, and why I'm doing this whole… Tom charade, is when she set me and Mari up to get caught by her parents." 

Oswald remembers Marisol, her parents were devout Catholic Spanish immigrants. Devout would be too tame a word in all honesty. He remembers enough about Kristen's mother to know that the drunkard wouldn't have cared if she'd still been alive, this couldn't be said for Kristen's aunt who'd been made to take her in, one of the greatest regrets of Oswald's life was calling CPS on her mother. If he'd known where she'd have been placed… A drunk mother is better than a vindictive Aunt and a crazy Cousin. 

"My Aunt shipped me off to some Jesus camp and I decided it was better to pretend I was something I wasn't until I didn't have to anymore. The only issue is that I got used to pretending." She rests her face in her hand. "I wish I had the guts to just exist as I am to spite everyone like you do, Oz."

Oswald doesn't know how to respond to that, the fact of the matter was that he was also pretending to be something he wasn't, or rather pretending to be with someone he wasn’t. He fiddles with the cigarette in his fingers, he could easily find something for Kristen to do in his empire, but involving her left a bad taste in his mouth. Her family, their teachers, all turned up their noses, claiming he'd "corrupt" her, and it had stuck somewhat. He never told her where he'd get the money he'd used to buy her gifts and food, never told her the things he'd do to get it. Nothing sordid, but she probably wouldn't have appreciated knowing that her best friend and greatest advocate was bashing skulls and slicing tendons just to get her a sandwich and an apple when his own financial situation wasn't much better. Staring at the water he takes a drag of the cigarette. 

"You don't want to be in my line of work, Kris. I'd be devastated if something like this," He pats his bad thigh. "Happened to you." 

"But it's okay if someone like Nygma can get close to it?" 

Another question he doesn't have an answer for. Admittedly it felt easier letting Edward in, even if the most surface level of ways. There was a strange darkness that seemed to overtake the man sometimes. Like something was just below the surface, itching to get out that wanted to turn the world upside down and treat it how it had treated him. It intrigued Oswald, truthfully. The longer he thinks about how the two, Ed and Kristen, are eerily alike, the more he wonders if she’d have developed that same odd darkness if they’d never met and he’d never decided that if one of them was going to get the worst of it, it was going to be him. Maybe she'd had, and he was just blind to it due to his own much more intense personality. 

"Ed is… off. I mean that most adoringly, mind. It's more-"

"Like if given the right push he'd tip off the deep end?" 

“Right on the money.”
“I’m so tired of my life. The men, the job . I feel like I’m splitting apart at the seams. I know I’m probably being a nuisance and making your ‘day job’ a lot harder than it really needs to be. But being able to spend time with you is one of the things that keep me sane. So. Maybe I can understand how he feels.” Oswald hums. “Doesn’t mean I like him at all.” Then laughs.
“Well I don’t like your boyfriend either. So we’re even.”
“I feel like my grievances go deeper.”
“Edward has never laid a hand on either of us.” Oswald points out, immediately feeling a little bad as she runs her hands over the bruises. 
“That’s true.” 
“I think you two are similar, in a lot of ways. I couldn’t say if that’s what attracted me to Edward, you know what my taste in men has been like.” They share a chuckle. “In any case, there’s still time for you to exist to spite people. You’re only twenty eight. And if it means it keeps you sane just that little longer, I don’t mind spending time with you.” Oswald reaches over and gives her shoulder a little shake. 
“Thanks, Ozzie, that means a lot.” She sighs, putting out the cigarette on the railing. “We should go back in. I can’t imagine what’s been happening between those two.”

“Mm.” 

Oswald follows suit, personally deciding that some kind of accident is going to befall Dougherty. Kristen would know obviously if he killed him outright. But he can’t let that man live, frankly. They exchange idle small talk as they stroll back into the dining room, at least until the sound of glass crashing to the ground catches their attention. And Oswald feels the last bits of his self control snap, mouth twisted into an angry sneer as Edward fumbles around on the ground in broken glass for his glasses as that drunk bastard cackles in his seat. Anyone with half a brain could tell that the taller man had been tripped on his way back to table from the bar, Oswald taking a couple moments to come back to himself to consider if this was really worth having his efforts go to waste over assaulting a cop.

Then Dougherty moves to shove Edward’s shoulder with his foot. And oh yes, this is definitely worth going to prison over. 

One doesn’t just get to kick around the only two friends Oswald Cobblepot has on this miserable rock, badge or no badge. 

The only words he comprehends out of Kristen’s mouth are ‘Ozzie’ and ‘don’t’ but it’s a futile effort on her part as he walks over. Kicking Doughterty’s foot off of Edward’s shoulder and smashing the empty whiskey glass into the man’s temple before grabbing the hair at the back of his head and slamming his face into the plate in front of him. Not giving the man a second to process before he pulls Tom back to get up in his face.

“You put your filthy hands on my Edward again and there won’t be a goddamn crevice on this planet you’ll be able to hide from me in.” Oswald lets go of the drunk, letting him finally get his bearings as he takes a couple steps and slumps back into his own chair, glaring across the table at the man as he registers what just happened to him. Content to let the chaos happen around him as people panic to get things tended to. He knows he’s screwed either way, no amount of favors traded between him and Jim Gordon are getting him out of a charge. 

And he fears if he moves, he’ll burst into tears at the thought of not seeing Kristen or Ed again.  

Though eventually not moving isn’t an option as they’re all lead off the boat to various areas, Kristen standing almost uselessly in the middle of the cacophony of responding vehicles until she wanders over to closer to where Oswald has put himself. Oswald sitting himself on a tie off point nearby. Staring off into nothing waiting for his turn to be spoken to by someone. Only turning when the sound of shoes crunching gravel come his way and he’s locking eyes with a very disappointed Jim Gordon. Kristen trailing behind him and Bullock, for what reason, he doesn’t know.

“Jim.”
“Oswald. I’ve expected some… trouble out of you but assaulting a cop? I don’t even know what happened with Nygma but his hands are cut up bad, Penguin.”
“I would have assumed that oaf told you.”
“All he said was that you two got into an altercation.”
“Then I suppose that’s what happened.” He sighs. It’s cop versus criminal, nothing he’s going to say will convince them.

“What?! That’s not- Tom lied!” All three men look over at Kristen, a little stunned. “That’s not what happened at all! Mr. Cobblepot never touched his partner! Did you even talk to Mr. Nygma? Or witnesses? Or anyone?”
“Ms. Kringle-”

She holds up a hand to silence him. “Mr. Cobblepot, please. Shut. Up.” Kristen, with a confidence he’s not previously seen out of her, storms up to Jim. “Tom has been drinking all night. He started drinking before we even left for this event tonight. Before we left he and I got into a minor argument and he grabbed me, leaving bruises on my arms.” She nearly tears the fabric pulling her sleeves up. “He admitted this at the table and Mr. Cobblepot, who has at least some decency in him, went out to the deck to avoid the situation from escalating. I joined him, wanting to assure him that I was fine. And we talked for a few minutes about our respective relationships. Going back to the dining room, we hear the sound of glass breaking, neither of us saw it happen but if you ask WITNESSES I’m sure you’ll find that Tom tripped Mr. Nygma, causing him to drop the drinks he’d been bringing back to the table and fall into the broken glass and spilled alcohol, and lord knows what else on that floor.”

“Considering the circumstances, I would say that Mr. Cobblepot, a known criminal and alleged murderer, showed a great deal of restraint in simply hitting Tom with a glass and smashing his face into the table. However you two wouldn’t know that, because being a cop is such a goddamn BOYS CLUB that you’d rather defend one of your ‘brothers’, leaving that poor man who works his heart out to help YOU get collars to have to depend on the criminals you’re trying to clear off the street to stand up for him.”

She’s been getting louder and angrier as she talks, teeth grit and she glares at Jim Gordon. Who looks over at Oswald who’s just as stunned as he is. Shaking his head lamely as if to say he also has no idea where this was coming from.  

“Is what she’s saying true, Cobblepot?” The ire is clear in Bullock’s voice. 
“I- yes. She’s telling the truth. Edward can confirm. I admit that when I saw my darling Eddie on the ground, blind and bleeding with that man about to kick him I may have lost my temper a little.”

Darling feels a bit much but he’s got to sell it to the detectives. Jim sighs. “I’ll go talk to Nygma, Harvey, get Ms. Kringle’s full statement. You just got real damn lucky, Penguin.” 

Looking over at Harvey, the other detective snorts. “You got a weird effect on people, Cobblepot. Never seen her yell like this before.”
“Perhaps she is simply stressed out due to the fact that her boyfriend is mistreating her.” He bites back, going quiet as she’d lead away to have her statement taken properly. And not simply yelled into Jim Gordon’s face. 

Oswald waits, not entirely shocked at her response but more the fact that she’d had the guts to get into Jim’s face like that. Not even that, Kristen had lied about certain details and even pretended to not know him that well to cover for their friendship. Normal people would probably be offended by that but he respects where it's coming from, no unnecessary suspicion on anyone. Eventually Jim walks back over, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs and looks out at the harbor for a few minutes before he addresses Oswald. 

"You're bizarrely lucky, Oswald. Kristen is credible and Edward's got a helluva memory, so you're in the clear. I'm sure Tom will fight us on letting you go. Do yourself a favor, leave Tom out of outings?"

"Not your darling archivist?"

"She and Nygma need a friend, and right now that's you for some unexplainable reason.” 
“Understood, detective.” He coos, snickering as Jim gives him a look and walks off as Kristen wanders back over to him.
“You stood up for me.”
“You were going to go to prison for a made up reason. It wasn’t fair.” 
“Please don’t stay with Tom, Kristen. He’s shown you what he’s like tonight, believe him.”

She’s quiet for a good long while, biting her lip.  

“I’ll think about it, I do still have to take him back to his house.”
Oswald gives her a look. “You get two weeks tops before I take matters into my own hands, Kris.”
“... Okay. I’ll see you around, Oz?”
“My empire is crumbling, so… hopefully.”
“Stay safe, Oswald.”
“You too.”

He watches as she walks away, Edward walking towards him as she walks away, the pair sharing a brief exchange before Edward is standing in front of Oswald. 

“You were going to take the fall for everything?”
“I already had this conversation, how are your hands?”
“Could be worse. Do you want me to take you home? Or to my home, or a safe house. Also I… I’ve never had someone stand up for me like that before. It was… Thank you, Mr. Penguin. I owe you.”
“I beat a guy up and I get Mr. Penguin?” He teases. 
“Smashing a glass into someone’s head seems like a very Penguin move. Oswald Cobblepot would deliver a series of cold, pointed insults.” Edward teases right back. “Let’s get you home, yeah? It’s been a night.”
“Mmm… Yes, let's.”

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Edward lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Throwing Oswald under the bus, hurting Ms. Kringle, the countless instances of disrespect he’s had to endure at Dougherty’s hands. A cloud passes in front of the moon, and it’s almost poetic, he thinks. Locking eyes with the cruelly smiling shade at the foot of his bed. For once, he and the hallucination are on the same page. 

Something has to be done about that officer. Oswald has already got dirt on his hands, having beaten the man pretty badly. And he’d like to repay Oswald somehow, it makes the swirling warmth in his chest clench and harden. 

So it’s looking like he’s going to have to be the one to handle it.

Chapter Text

“Hey, you’re the demerits girl right?”
Kristen looks up from her notebook, swallowing nervously and nodding. Standing in front of her is the new transfer student. Something Kapelput. No current infractions but she knows he was kicked out of his old school for doing something terrible to a student there.
Allegedly. 
He’s tossing and apple up and down as he regards her somewhat coldly before his mouth stretches into a cruel smile.
“Awesome, you got anything about Margaret Callahan in there?”
“Why?” She does, she’s got plenty of stuff from both on campus and off. Following the troublesome students and writing down the stuff that’d get them in trouble on school grounds was more fun than dealing with her drunk mom. Or opening some new weird gift from her deadbeat, weirdo father. Kapelput sinks his teeth into the apple, licking the juice from his chin.
“She called my mom a whore and I want to blackmail her.” A quick up and down. “She threw your backpack into the fountain last week, didn’t she? Her parents are loaded. I could probably get the cash for a new bag out of her if you give me dirt.”
Kristen bites her lip and pushes her glasses up her nose, flipping through the pages. Her stomach growls and she thinks of something. “Actually.” She looks up. “Can you get me food?” She can’t help but stare at the apple hungrily. Almost drooling. Kapelput studies her for a few moments before coming to a decision.
“Sure. Just do me one favor, besides this.”
“Okay?”
He pulls a switchblade from his shirt, flicking it open and cutting the portion he bit out of the apple before handing the rest to her. “Don’t write down that I have the knife in your little book.”
Kristen swallows, accepting the fruit. “Deal.”  
She’s pretty sure no apple after that has tasted sweeter as she compiled a detailed and organized list of everything on and off campus Maragret Callahan has done, giggling almost hysterically as she thinks about the potential looks on the other girl’s face when Kapelput presents her with this information. 
Maybe if she keeps feeding the new student information, she’ll be able to see it for herself one day.

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The decision to do something about Tom had been swirling in Edward’s head for the past week. He hadn’t heard much from Oswald, or even from Kristen, and it was somewhat of a problem. They were the only two able to silence the constant screams of the specter that haunted his waking hours. Even now staring at himself in the mirror, it’s smirking back at him, making all kinds of crude violent gestures as he garners the strength to go back to work after his lunch break. Yes, he knows. He should do something about Tom, it’s what’s best for Kristen and perhaps it’d even endear Oswald to him, he thinks. Fully accepting that even if their relationship was fake he’s managed to catch real feelings for the man. The repeated physical intimacy, despite its entirely unromantic overtures, didn’t help. Dopamine and serotonin and all those feel good chemicals that Edward had never really had the opportunities to build a tolerance to wreaking havoc on his decision making skills.

Edward sighs, rubbing the side of his face as he ignores the cackling as he leaves the bathroom, deciding to at least check in on Ms. Kringle before going back to his own work. Half wandering down the hall, still wrapped up in his thoughts and concerns. He doesn’t pay it much mind when a door bangs open, at least until he’s shoulder checked by the man in question as he storms down the hallway. Doughtery looks rather angry, and Ed in his worry scurries the rest of the way to Kristen’s workspace. The place is a mess, even worse than when he’d misguidedly took it into his own hands to reorganize things. He simply observes from the doorway for a moment, watching as she sighs and crouches to pick up a file. Unsure how to approach the situation until she addresses him.

“What is it, Nygma?”
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”

Her tone is cold and icy, it’s been that way since their outing on the boat and he’s not entirely sure why. Perhaps it’s because he got Tom in trouble, though he was only telling the truth. And if Oswald was being truthful, Kristen was not that attached to him anyways. Chasing after the kinds of men she thought that her family would want her to be with. He fidgets back and forth. She’d always been a little cold to him, but this had a distinct edge to it that he can’t pinpoint where it’s from.

“What he’s doing isn’t right.”
“I don’t want to talk about this, Edward. It’s being handled.”
“At least let me help with the mess.”
“No.”
“I won’t try to change anything this time, I promise.”

Kristen visibly runs her tongue over her teeth as she stands and stalks over to him, getting up in his space. 

“These are my records that I’ve typed up with my hands, they’re accurate and organized down to the second. I do not need help cleaning them up.” She turns, muttering to herself. “An idiot like Doughterty can’t do that much damage. So thank you. But no thank you Nygma.”
Edward is taken aback. “I… I didn’t realize you typed these all up yourself.”
“That’s not entirely accurate, in all fairness. There’s the paperwork that you and the detectives and the other various people involved in a case that gets filed. But you’re all woefully un-detail oriented. It’s irksome. So I sometimes have to add my own write ups of what was left out.” She pauses. Taking a deep breath and seeming to come back to her usual temperament. “I’m. I’m sorry, Edward, I’m being unfairly mean to you. I will say you in particular are almost neurotically detail oriented. I barely have to make any additions or corrections. There’s been many factors that have been stressing me out. I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

Edward is not entirely sure if he’s supposed to be flattered or insulted in this instance, though he’s quickly distracted by her forearms. The bruises aren’t healing, or perhaps these are new bruises. He doesn’t want to press the issue, and frankly he doesn’t need to. Muttering out a thanks for what he presumes is a compliment, and an apology and a farwell. Hesitating just down the hall before he decides to confront the officer, walking with purpose at least until he’s nearly caught up with Tom. Once again slowing down and second guessing himself when the decision is made for him.

“What the hell do you want, Riddle Man?”

“You need to stop treating Ms. Kringle the way you are.”
Tom scoffs. “Some free advice, seeing as women clearly aren’t your forte. Sometimes they just need a firm hand. And.” The man gets up in his face. “They need to understand when I’m doing them a favor. That creep is a murderer, Riddle Man. You know that right?”
“This- this isn’t about Oswald. It’s not helping if you’re just lying to detectives and hurting her. It's not right!”
“Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”
Edward opens his mouth, trying to think of something to say. A few seconds pass and Tom snorts derisively. “That’s what I thought. Maybe next time the two of you will think before you tell the truth.”

The officer pushes past him, leaving Edward in the hallway, chewing his lip. He’ll just have to try again. 

Try again turns out to be waiting outside Kristen’s townhouse as he waits to see if Tom will show up. It’s stupid, it’s a stupid plan and impulsive but if he didn’t try again now, then he wasn’t entirely sure he was going to try again ever. It’s been forever though, and he’s pretty sure there was something he had to be at in the morning. Something Oswald had wanted to do, he’s not fully sure as the night on the boat had been all consuming, any conversations had with his semi-pretend lover were fuzzy at best. Either way, he moves to start his car back up when he spots him in the rear view mirror. Always at the eleventh hour, these things. Tom turns to head up to Kristen’s door and he calls out.

"Hey! Stop right there, buster!”

Shaking a bit he gets out of the car as Tom turns and arches an eyebrow, taking a couple steps forward. 

“Riddle Man? What the hell are you doing creeping around here?”
“Y-you need to leave Kristen alone!”
Tom takes a few more steps forward, advancing towards Edward. “What?”
“I-i’m not going to let you hurt her. Ever. You- you should leave Gotham. Tonight.”

Tom laughs as he walks ever closer to Edward. They’re about the same height, but Tom, an officer, is so much broader and more built than he is. It’s uncomfortably reminiscent of his youth and he swallows, his hands in the pockets of his coat. “That Penguin really got into your brain huh? You think just because he’s scary, and he’s got half of Gotham’s goons in his pocket, that you can just… threaten people? Make demands?” Edward swallows thickly as Tom claps him on the shoulder, squeezing. “Don’t take this too personal, but it’s better I put you in your place than someone a little more dangerous.”

Tom punches him in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him to the ground. Groaning and clutching his stomach in pain with one arm, working his knife out of his pocket with his other. This isn’t how he’d wanted it to go, but he’s not going to let himself get beaten up again. Ever again. He moves to shove Tom back, then threaten him with the weapon, but as he goes to do so Tom leans in and he…

Stabs him. It takes a moment to register in his mind. “Oh dear.” Tom lunges again and he drives the knife into him with more purpose this time. A pang of fear in his mind at what the officer would do now, the fear morphs, though. Twist and darkens and molds itself into something more sinister, more insidious. Anger and rage and disgust swirling in him, this man was going to have sent Oswald to prison, he’d hurt Kristen! Edward hadn’t been able to work properly as his hands healed. There was probably countless other reasons he could list in his head, the knife being driven into Tom’s torso again and again and again. 

Just as quickly as the rage had come on it disappeared. Ed blinking and coming back to himself and realizing exactly what he’s done as Tom falls back to the ground, blood seeping from the stab wounds into his coat. “Oh dear. Oh dear.” He stumbles to the side and away from the body. A nervous giggle finding its way out as he doubles over, looking at the knife in his hand and the blood on the knife and the blood on his hand. “Oh dear.” Edward stumbles to his knees on the ground, devolving into a fit of nervous, quiet laughter. Unaware of the scrap of life still left in his victim until a single gunshot catches his attention and he looks up. 

“Oh… oh fuck.”

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Kristen stares across her home office, desk and chair shoved to the side. There’s notebooks and papers and numerous used up sharpies all around. The wall itself is covered with old and new bits of paper, photographs. The dog she adopted for protection laying outside the room, she refuses to let it in here. Laying back against the wall her eyes land on an old school photo, torn out of a yearbook and eyes blacked out. She’s been drinking, it felt like her usual state these when she wasn’t putting on a good face for Tom or Oswald or whomever. perhaps even before this. Ever since Oswald had mentioned that she was similar to Nygma, she felt like something in her had cracked irreparably. It felt like a culmination of everything she’d run from in her life once she’d graduated high school and she absolutely cannot stand it.

Not that it was Oswald’s fault, she thinks. Staring up at old posters that stare back at her. Newspaper advertisements. Other various colorful bits. All in that fucking orange and yellow and blue scheme that haunted her dreams and delighted in her nightmares. This was the past she kept from everyone, including her most precious childhood friend.

Downing the rest of her whiskey she picks up an old ledger, looking down at it. Margaret Callahan was always a bitch, she thinks to herself as she flips through it, there’s tons of entries, little things. The petty crimes and school yard felonies of Catholic Schoolgirls, there’s a large amount of petty infractions and a few fights where the first name has been blacked out with sharpie. 

Her records needed to be accurate, after all. 

She sets the glass down and picks up the bottle, taking a huge swig from it when the dog sits up in alert. Growling. Every nerve ending of her body lighting up. On edge but feeling like she’s moving through thick soup as she fumbles around for the gun she’d purchased. Also a new acquisition, neither were a matter of whether or not she’d needed protection from Tom. Or Ozzie’s newer ‘friends’.

No both were for a much more dangerous threat and she carefully stumbles over to the window, peering out through the curtains in time to see some man across the street get punched in the gut. Sucking in a breath she stumbles around for a few minutes to locate her dressing gown, slinging it around her shoulders, gun still in hand as the dog starts to bark.

“Yes, yes hush hush.” Kristen mumbles as she goes to the door, taking a deep breath and unlocking it. Flinging it open and padding down the steps, regretting not grabbing shoes as the concrete and asphalt is cold under her feet. She looks around, spotting the two men in the street, one slumped on the ground, the other struggling to get to their feet. Reaching behind them, she presumes for a weapon but they're slow. Clumsy. And she raises her gun and fires, the sound ringing on her ears as the world finally comes fully into focus.

And she's looking Edward Nygma in the eyes as Tom Dougherty lays dead in the street. 

"Oh…" She breathes out. "Oh fuck." 

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There was an image of Kristen he’d had in his head, of course there was, anyone who’s had a crush had that one image of their person as this ideal. This god or goddess put on a pedestal, he’d made peace with the fact that that wasn’t true, of course. Logic winning out over anything else. But what he was having a hard time with was rationalizing the ideal, what he’d thought was real, and what he was observing. Kristen on the floor of her front hall in her dressing gown, legs crossed and swaying a little as she mumbled, furiously writing in a notebook. She smelled like whiskey and it was more than a little obvious she’d been drinking. Looking to his left down the stairs to the basement, he almost recoils when he makes eye contact with Tom’s lifeless body. Having been unceremoniously shoved down the stairs so that Kristen could get her dog crated.

It’s all a forensics nightmare, frankly. One he’s quite sure Kristen was not going to allow him to clean up. Considering it a miracle at all she’d even let him in, not something one usually did when you killed their boyfriend, abusive and mostly unwanted or otherwise. Clearing his throat he tries to talk to her.

“Ms. Kringle-”
“How many times did you stab him? And what kind of knife did you use? Do you happen to know your exact height and weight off hand?”
“I don’t think this is really the time to be getting the specific facts of the situation. There’s a time limit here we need to-”
“Stab wounds. Knife type. Height and weight.” She picks up the gun and wiggles it. “Or is Tommy getting a friend?”

He doesn’t think that it’s really worth getting shot over. But he’s dealing with a drunk woman, likely in shock, who apparently has some kind of odd compulsion towards record keeping that… really should have been apparent to him sooner. 

“Um. Eleven. Honestly I don’t know. Six foot one inch. And I guess… a hundred and sixty six pounds?”
“You’re almost underweight. You should watch that. I’ll check the knife myself. Thank you!” The gun is set back on the floor and Edward takes a moment to slowly pull it towards himself, picking it up and making sure the safety is on before it gets slid into the inner pocket of his coat. 

“So… what are we doing about the body?”
“I don’t know, you’re the forensics guy. Just write down exactly what you do and use, okay?”
“That doesn’t seem like a good idea. In fact, I think you should hand over that notebook until you’re thinking a little more clearly.” 

He leans down and reaches for the notebook only for her to scramble forward and get up. Holding the notebook up and behind her, not unlike a child playing keepaway. 

“I don’t criticize your weird habits, do I?”
“Actually you do. Well, did. Frequently, with a distinct amount of subtlety that admittedly did go over my head a few times.”
“You were being creepy.”
He ignores the accusation. “Ms. Kringle, you're drunk, and this is a crisis situation.”
“That I keep telling you to deal with. So. Go deal with it.” She shoos him with her free hand and turns, opening the notebook back up and clicking her pen back open. 

Really, he should go do that, by all logic he really should go figure out a way to insure they won’t get caught for what they’ve done by way of there being a body. But no body, no crime doesn’t work when there’s a drunk woman detailing the crime in explicit detail. Licking his lips he lunges, managing to snatch the notebook from her hands, she spins but it’s ineffective as she stumbles and groans. Shaking her head a little before she goes for the notebook,lunging forward clumsily. He’s got a decent amount of height on her, however. So it’s little trouble even for him to keep the item up and away from her. Trying to get her attention on him and not the damned item, he quickly grows frustrated. She’s not thinking rationally and it’s starting to get him angry. Growling and teeth grit, he shoves her against the wall, hand on her throat. 

“Ms. Kringle, please. You need to- to drink water or some strong coffee. Or something. We’re running out of-”

A vase connects with his head and he lets go to grab the side of his head, shouting. The notebook is snatched back and this is, at this point, a losing battle against Kristen and whatever is going on with her. He didn’t want to do this, but everything was getting further and further out of his control and right now he needed to handle the first variable of this equation. 

“Ms. Kringle, I am so sorry.”

Edward grabs her, putting her in a chokehold for just long enough to knock her out, leaving her laying there in the entryway as he sighs and rubs his hands over his face. Allowing himself the chance to think.  

Oh dear. 

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Kristen hated Edward Nygma. That much was clear. She absolutely despised the man, sipping the hot tea she’d found on her desk when she’d woken up in the records room at the GCPD. Hungover to hell and back and wondering what the heck had even happened last night as she’d raced to the door, finding a note from Nygma on it that was some convoluted puzzle that essentially amounted to ‘door is locked from inside, clothes are in the unused drawer’ blah blah blah. The note was crumpled up and hurled into a corner the second she’d figured it out. Something itches at the back of her mind, something she feels like she’s forgetting as she looks at the clock on the wall. Nine in the morning. Squinting at it she feels like there’s something significant about that time.

Distracted then by her desk phone ringing she plucks it up and takes a huge swig of her tea to hopefully ensure she doesn’t sound nearly as hungover and groggy as she feels. 

“Records Annex, GCPD, this is Kristen Kringle speaking. Blackgate Prison? What business do you have with- Yes I know who that is. No, I haven't had contact with him in… well ever. Yes I am in fact his daughter. I-” She pauses as the situation is explained to her.

“HE MADE ME HIS WHAT?”

Double checking their schedules, both she and Nygma hadn't been scheduled today for some reason. Furrowing her brow she disregards the nagging thought that there was a reason for this but that wasn't a concern right now, grabbing her belongings and coat she hurries down to the forensics lab, knocking sharp and insistent on the door until Edward cracks it open. 

"Yes?"
"How close are you to being done with your work?"
"I was just about to destroy the skull, why?"
"We're burying it, I need a favor." She explains as she pushes her way into the room. It smells like rot and burning flesh and she wrinkles her nose. "I don't know how you do this day in and day out."

"You get used to it. I don't think you're in a position to be asking for favors."
"You wouldn't hold things I did while drunk against me would you?"
"The eleven stab wounds in Tom say I most likely would."

Smart men are a pain in the ass. Sighing she pulls out the rather tattered looking notebook. "I'll burn the pages I wrote this all out on."

Edward folds his arms and looks at her for several long moments. "Deal. What do you need out of me?”
“I need a ride to Blackgate Prison. And bring your trunk and those bone saws.”

 Edward looks at her like he’s trying to figure out exactly what those things have to do with each other before he mutters to himself and tosses the skull in the trunk and closes it up. “So we’re improvising then, great.” 

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Kristen looks down at the body on the table, her face impassive. There’s a small box of effects, things her cousin didn’t want, naturally it was all worthless. Old memorabilia, a few trinkets. She hadn’t wanted anything except one thing and of course that insane bitch took it. Kristen really ought to find her own insane ally. Edward might work, though he’s not necessarily insane. Not yet at least. Though the longer she stares down at the body the more she thinks they’re all hurtling down that path. The box of crap is going to be incinerated at her earliest possible convenience. The body… 

“Well, that was an interesting experience.”
“So we’ve got time?”
“Yep. I’ll admit that I haven’t tried using Oswald’s name for this kind of thing before.” Edward’s quiet for a moment. “It was honestly really fun. Anyways.” He takes a couple steps forward. “Who’s this guy?”
“He’s no one. Don’t worry about it. Just start chopping up the body.”
“Uh-huh.” 

Turning away from the table and the impending carnage she takes the box with her, pawing through it for anything of use. 

“So do you like me or not? Because even before Oswald got involved, you’ve always done this thing where you like, pretending to pity me or someone goes too far and you feel bad for me, and then the next day you’re cold. I get it, in the past I did have a crush on you and you didn’t want to encourage that. But don’t yank me around, I don’t like when people do that.” 
The notebook is still unburned. Despite the coldness in his tone she knows he’s not going to do anything to her. She does wish he’d stop talking though. 
“Why does it matter to you?”
“If you don’t like me, then we can agree that we’re probably not going to get along very well after you’ve hit me with a vase but we fake it for Oswald,” Edward bruised nicely, she thinks. “If you do like me in some capacity, then perhaps we can find some middle ground.”
“Why do we need a middle ground?”

It irritates her when he goes off on what feels like a tangent, talking about some show he watched when he was a child. When he was able to. Something about the host being some idiot, all the questions were stupid. The guy was an absolute moron and a nagging horror starts to creep up her spine as Edward keeps moving on.

“It’s kinda funny to me you know? That guy was disgraced and forced out when all his illicit affairs came out. Turned to a life of crime, and he looked a lot like this guy.” 

Kristen turns to look at him, mentally judging if it would be worth it to kill him, but ultimately she didn't have the heart. 

"What are you saying?"

"Drunk or otherwise, you should probably secure anything you wouldn't want visitors seeing before they're forced to knock you unconscious." 

Kristen's face is beat red and she turns back around, pretending to search the box of effects.

"How long did it take you?"

"Pardon?"

"How long. Did it take you?"

Edward sounds smug, she prefers the version of him that was awkward and nervous around her. This version, this smug arrogant know-it-all, was grating. Putting on the air that he was somehow scary because he figured out her secret, figured out who the man he was currently hacking to bits was. Humming to himself like he was doing a chore. 

"A couple years, once I actually dedicated myself to it."
"But you don't like him?"
"Student debts are student debts."
"Why did it take so long?"

"Everything on that wall is what made sense, he sent me clues and puzzles and hints from the time I was born to the time I sent him a letter telling him I knew who he was so… Twenty three years. And the majority of it was nonsense. Just tell me the infuriatingly small amount of time it took you?"

"Well it hardly seems fair now, seeing as you had to wade through garbage." A pause. "Does Oswald know?"
"No. Not about any of it. And I don't plan on telling him, I never have." 
"Ah. About two minutes. Not shocking, considering I could have won my tuition three times over on his show. 'Cluemaster', what a stupid name for a stupid man."

At least they can agree on that, she thinks before her mind goes back to Oswald, it's a nice distraction from the sounds of a cut up corpse being put into a trunk. Her eyebrows furrow, whatever she's been forgetting has something to do with Oswald, and the fact that both she and Edward were off. She turns once she hears the trunk being clicked shut. 

"Were we supposed to meet Oswald for something today?" 
Edward looks over at her, confused for a moment before horror passes across his face. "Have you heard your phone ring at all today?"
"No it's been on silent because of my hang-"

The color drains from her face as they both start scrambling, her through her handbag and Edward patting all his pockets before they both pull out phones and stare at them.

"That's a lot of missed calls."
"You think he's still mad?"

Edward's phone buzzes in his hand and he swallows, flipping it open. "One way to find out. Hey honey! What's-" Ed's immediately cut off by a tirade Kristen can almost hear clearly it's being yelled so loud.

Well, twelve years was probably a better streak that most had when it came to Oswald's tantrums, Kristen thinks.  

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Time seems to be irrelevant when ones being yelled at by the Penguin, both parties equally fascinated at just how many words the man can get out in one breath. Kristen subtly leans over to whisper to Edward.

"Is this what it feels like to disappoint your dad?"
"Mine would throw me down the stairs, so this is distinctly more pleasant." 
"I feel like if he could physically do it, Oswald would. This actually isn’t that different than getting yelled at in Catholic School."
“If you say something about nuns and penguins, I’m slitting my throat.”

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

Edward and Kristen snap to attention in their chairs as Oswald studies them from across the desk. Leaning on his fist, face twisted into an expression both can only imagine would mean they’re dead if they were anyone else. They shake their heads no and look down at their hands in their laps.

“Now. What could have possibly been so important that you two willfully missed a meeting I made absolutely sure you two could get to a week in advance?”

They look between each other, the silence stretches on as Kristen opens her mouth to start to say something. What that is, she's not sure. And Edward licks his lips, fingers twitching in his lap as he formulates a response. 

“He stabbed Tom eleven times in front of my townhouse.”
“Wh- She shot him in the head and shoved his body down her stairs!”
“He choked me! Twice!”
“She hit me with a vase because I didn’t want her to write down Every! Little! Stupid! Detail! Basically signing our arrest warrants!”

They go back and forth with it, arguing like a pair of children, or siblings who are trying to get out of  punishment. Which in a way they are, neither wanting to be out of Oswald’s good graces. Even if that task was a little harder for them to achieve than most. There’s a bit more fighting and bickering before they’re both silenced by Oswald smacking his hands against the desk. 

“ENOUGH. Where is the body now?”
“I cut it up, dissolved it in acid. Smashed all the bones as much as possible. The skull is intact. Kristen was going to bury it in the woods. With- with the other corpse.”
Oswald blinks at them. “How do you kill one person and wind up with two bodies?”
She shifts in her chair. “Someone at Blackgate died and I’m the person the body was released to.”
“Who the hell-” He holds up his hand, as if to dismiss the entire thing. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. So.” Oswald stands up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Edward, could you give us a moment please?” He thinks for a few moments, hand waving uselessly in the air. “Wait in the front hall.”

Ed, more than happy to have an excuse to leave the room that contained a very angry Penguin, scrambles up and out of the room. Oswald giving it a few moments before he walks around the desk to lean back against it, hands in his pockets.

“Writing everything down?”
Kristen looks down at her hands. “I was drunk… I couldn’t help it.”
“Is she bothering you again?”

Her head shoots up, eyes wide. There’s no way Oswald doesn’t have it clocked from her reaction.

“No! No. Everything’s fine. It’s fine Ozzie, really.” 
The way he’s looking at her, he doesn’t believe her for a second. “What did you do with the notebook?”
 
Sheepishly, she reaches down into her handbag, pulling it out and handing it over to Oswald who thumbs through it as she stares at her hands. Why was she like this? Why was this her answer to the chaos of her youth? Edward was right last night, of course he was, having a record of the crime. It serves no purpose other than blackmail material against Nygma. But also as blackmail against her. 

“You need a healthier outlet for this compulsion. The front half of this notebook is very well written out, but it’s obvious when you’ve either fallen into some kind of fit or have been drinking.”
“That’s why I work records at the GCPD.”

“And that’s doing wonders for you right now.” The sarcasm is palpable. “You’ve never told me why you have this… compulsion to keep strict and detailed records of things, and I respect that. But you need to find a better outlet than crime.” There’s the sound of ripping and she knows he’s ripping out the pages she’d written the events of last night on. “Or at least, crimes you’re accessory to.” He walks back over, dropping the notebook in her lap. 
“I’m sorry… I’ll find something.” A beat. “What did you want to talk to Edward and I about so badly.” 
Oswald sighs and shakes his head. “That’s not important at the moment, follow me.”

They both head down to the front hall where Edward stumbles to his feet, following when Oswald gestures for him to. Trailing behind him as they’re lead to the garage of the manor. Oswald grabbing a shovel off the wall and shoving it into Kristen’s chest before grabbing a number of cleaning supplies and shoving them at Edward. 

“Here is what is going to happen. You two are going to find the most remote place in the woods so Kristen can bury the body. It’s your mystery prisoner, it’s your body to bury. Then BOTH of you are going to go back to the townhouse and scrub that place top to bottom, not a single bit of blood, or hair or anything that can be traced back to you two.”
“Okay.”
“Mmhmm.”

They turn to head out of the garage to Edward’s car when they’re stopped by Oswald calling out to Edward.

“And Ed, once you’re down at Kristen’s home, I want you to come straight back here.” Oswald narrows his eyes at the man. “I’m not quite done with you yet.” They look between each other, unsure of what that means for Ed exactly as they swallow nervously. “I want Ed back here by 11pm, and god help the both of you if he isn’t.”

They sprint the rest of the way to the car.  

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It’s eleven on the dot when Edward creeps back into the manor, looking around before he spots a note on the entryway table. Picking it up and heading towards the library as directed. There’s a fire roaring and Oswald is sat in an armchair, swirling a glass of wine in his hand, legs crossed at the ankles as he studies the red liquid in the glass as he swirls it.

“Shut the door behind you.”

Edward does so, the thick wood clicking shut and he approaches quickly, hands in front of him and mouth a thin grim line.

“Mr. Cobblepot I am so sorry about everything and about missing the meeting-”
“Do you know what I’m most mad about, Edward?”
“I- Choking your best friend…?”
“No, you actually had a good reason for that, surprisingly. No Edward. I’m angry because of how you murdered Doughtery. In the middle of the damn street, sure it was late at night, but Gotham never sleeps. What if someone had caught you? What if someone had caught both of you?”
“I- If I ever kill another person, I’ll make sure I think it through a little more. This was sloppy, impulsive, I thought of what he did and was doing and I-”
“You’re right. It was. You need discipline Edward. A guiding hand.”

It was true, he did. Hopefully there’s a next time and he can prove to Oswald that he’s capable. The thought strikes him. That he hopes there’s a next time, the hallucination is chuckling darkly in his ear and he jerks his head to the side to try and dispel it. He barely notices Oswald standing and walking the couple steps over to him to stare up into Ed’s eyes.

“Now get on your knees.”

Edward swallows thickly, his cheeks warming up.

Oh dear.

Chapter Text

Trudging through Gotham’s woods with a shovel, she’s starting to wonder if this was a bad idea. If dedicating herself fully to some gorgeous woman with red hair and glasses was the right move. But she wanted it, she wanted it so badly that it almost hurt. That even with three papers due and a sign up for clinicals she has yet to make her choice for, she found herself here, retracing that mentally ill guy's steps to find the repacked earth that was her target. It was odd, she muses as she gets to work digging, how fixated her… girlfriend? Sugar Mommy? Was on that tall dorky dude, but still she dutifully carries out her task. Hoping she does well and gets rewarded with just a crumb of Mommy’s attention. 

She sees her in the university library all the time, walking past her she can’t help but pause to smell her perfume. Light, delicate, feminine. Her handwriting is pretty and precise, neatly ordered lines as she scribbles notes. A turkey sandwich that looks delightfully homemade from the bread to the meat sitting nearby. Is she a professor? A teacher? Perhaps an older student or guest speaker. She’s done up so nicely… Then the young woman finds an old photo in her dorm room. A girl her age in a cheer uniform, it’s the woman from the library! At least… she’s pretty sure it is. Approaching her one day she giggles nervously, setting the photo she found on the table.
“Is- is this you?”
The woman picks up the photo, studying it for a moment before she smiles, wide and beautiful and oh god she’s in love. 
“For a pretty girl like you, I’ll be whoever you want me to be.” 

“I better get a whole year's tuition outta this.” She mutters as uncovers the trunk and prying it open. “Yeesh… Really did a number on the old fella, didn’t he?” Still, she paws through the gore until she finds his head. Fishing it out and setting it into the gift box she’d been provided for it. Setting the lid on top and securing it she reburys the trunk. “It’s incredibly important that he NOT get caught for his crime.” She even does a few little tricks she learned online to make it even more hidden. 

Fuckin amateur. Learn how to bury a dead body, dork.

Then it’s back to that big fancy house, another long, long drive on her motorcycle with some random dead guy's head in a box strapped to it, to check up on what that tall guy is doing. There’s one obvious light on in the house and she easily scales the home to peer inside and-

Yeah. Surveillance is fun and all, but she’s not hanging around for a BDSM peep show. So onto the next task it is then. Waiting outside a townhouse until just the right time to leave the box in front of the door.

“To send a message, my darling. To send a message.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo.” She says, with a great deal of affection as she revs up her harley. Maybe. Just maybe. If she does a reaaaaaaaaal good job and this person gets the message right or whatever. Mommy will finally want to rev up hers. A giggle slips out. She’s gonna have to remember that joke. Someone’s going to have to appreciate it eventually. Right? 

Right.

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“Now get on your knees.”

Edward swallows thickly, cheeks heating up as he sinks to his knees. It was something they experimented with in the past and he’s found he likes it. Likes having himself be taken out of his mind. If the Penguin feels he needs discipline, then that’s what he needs. Hands on his knees, sitting up straight, he exhales. A little shakily. Oswald walking slowly around with you.

“Oh Edward. I had hoped that you would have had a little more grace in your first murder. Care to explain what happened?” There’s the crinkling of paper and of course Oswald would have confiscated those pages of her notebook. That was a given. “I have an associate’s account, but-” He laughs a little, as though he were getting information out of someone. “Well there’s only so much that was written down. So tell me, pet.” The pages are tossed in front of Edward, hands clapping down on his shoulders, giving them a harsh squeeze. “What happened?”

Edward swallows, fingers flexing against the fabric of his pants as he looks at the crumpled pages. “I wanted to do something. To help our friend, I had thought of talking to Dougherty. It hadn’t worked out as I’d expected so… I went to that home, and I waited outside hoping to get a chance to confront him again.”
“Mmm. A murder like this calls for precision, my dear.” Those hands tighten on his shoulders. “Continue.” 
“I saw him walking up to the townhome, and I got out of my car. There was a conversation, he punched me in the stomach. It was self defense at first when I pulled my knife and stabbed him but… But then it was like something took over and I was just filled with rage. And I… I stabbed him ten more times.”

Oswald tuts a few times, finally swinging around so he’s standing in front of Edward, looking down at him with his lips pressed together. Studying Edward as he thinks of his next move. Edward swallows again, he’s been salivating so much, drooling. Hoping Oswald will let him have just a little taste. He’ll bear the brunt of any punishments if he just gets to taste the man. Oswald crouches, the best that he can, humming and running a hand Ed’s stomach, pressing gently until his breath comes in stutters as the bruise is pressed. More tutting.

“I can’t fault you for killing the man.” His voice drops an octave, face twisting into something of pure rage. Edward thinks his snarl is beautiful. “It’s almost a mercy for what he’d get for bruising my property.” 

There’s an irony in that statement, a sentiment unpermitted in these moments as he’s instructed to undo his tie and shirt so that Oswald can assess the damages. Someone is going to pay for Tom’s indiscretions, it’s just a matter of picking who. It could be anyone, he thinks as he undoes button after button, leaving his tie hanging in the collar as an option should Oz want it. Hands back on his knees he sucks in a breath, stiffening, eyes sliding closed as he listens to the stiletto switchblade opening. His undershirt being sliced down the center. Ed can feel the blade just barely brushing his chest as Oswald cuts, pushing the scraps to the side. A small noise of discontent escaping as his hand traces over the bruise, pressing slightly just to feel Ed’s stomach tremble. 

“Next time, my pet, you will do perfectly.” Oswald purrs, caressing down Edward’s cheek with the flat of the blade. Ed bites his lip, almost leaning into the knife like it’s a hand, eyelids fluttering a little. “But for now, a lesson in patience, Edward.” The blade travels lower and lower, tracing ever so gently over the tent in the crotch of Ed’s pants, still only half hard, the knowledge that the knife is so close to the tip of his cock is enough to get him the rest of the way there. “You will not finish before I say you can, understood?”
“And if I can’t?”
“I have faith that you will, my pet.”

A noise distracts Oswald for a moment, going over to the window. Edward can’t see what he’s doing, but it doesn’t matter as the only one that matters is the sound of the curtains being drawn closer shut and Oswald’s footsteps, the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it and Edward swallows thickly. How will Oz expect patience when he’s giving Ed what he craves most, once again turning so that he’s standing before Edward. Pants undone, his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. His feet are bracketing Ed’s knees and he cocks an eyebrow at Edward. 

“You’re permitted to use your hands, now get to work.”

Edward keeps Oswald’s gaze as he slowly reaches up to just as slowly start working the man’s pants and undergarments. Unable to stop himself from drooling as he slowly reveals his prize. Despite his reservations about his own stamina, if this is what he gets for following Oswald’s instruction, then he will follow them to the exact letter. 

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Oswald could frankly get used to waking up in his manor with Edward in his bed, at the moment there are more pressing matters he has to worry about. Things that would put Ed at risk, he thinks as he runs his hand over the man’s jaw. Studying him in the morning light, he did brilliantly, showing promise as both a lover and as a man who could perhaps be his right hand some day. Anything more is just a risk he can’t take, already going to such lengths to make sure his mother is as safe as he can make her. Sighing, he supposes he must get the conversation over with and gently kisses Edward’s forehead, going for the side table to grab the man’s glasses as those lovely brown eyes open. 

“Mmm… Morning Oswald….” He gratefully accepts his glasses and slides them on, leaning in for a kiss that he’s happy to give the man. Well aware of the man’s growing affections for him. More reason to make sure he stays safe. Anyone who would dare to feel such things about him. He can’t let them get involved. 

“Good morning, Edward. I hope you slept well?”
“I did, you do a good job of tiring me out.”
Oswald laughs through his nose. Smiling at him. “I need to tell you something important, my dear.”
“The meeting we missed…” 

“Yes, I’m afraid. And could you do me the small favor of passing the message along to Kristen for me as well? I get the sense she’s not exactly the biggest fan of you but-” He runs his hand over Ed’s face, the man cupping it and turning his head to kiss his palm.
“Of course, I can deliver the message.”

He’s going to miss him. Hopefully he can reunite with the man once things are sorted.

“I need you and Kristen to leave me alone for a bit. Things… things haven’t been going well. There’s been odd occurrences, things I just… can’t explain. But things have been going poorly. I know you and Kristen can be capable of protecting yourselves, but I can’t risk anyone getting hurt.”   

Edward studies Oswald’s face, he knows that look he’s trying to read him but there’s nothing to hide at this moment. “Are you sure I can’t-” 

“Edward, I know this started simply because I wanted to avoid being arrested for a crime. But believe me when I say I do really care for you, you are a beacon of brilliance that has lit up my life these past few months. All my life, I’ve only had one true friend, and in a twist of fate, that one friend has brought me another. And I won’t lose both of you.”

Edward looks pained, considering. But by now he knows that Edward knows that changing Oz’s mind is a task that even a man as smart as him is not capable of. 

“I understand.” He looks pained for a moment, considering. “Can… Can I at least play hooky from my job for today? Can I spend today with you?”

Oswald knows it’s a dangerous request, that granting it will only make Edward’s affection run deeper but he also knows Edward is a smart man. 

“Yes, I think I can allow that.” 

Edward’s smile lights up his face, and Oswald can’t help the little flutter of his heart as he’s pulled down into a kiss. Allowing himself to be rolled over by Edward as they continue to kiss. Content to spend the day twisted in the sheets with him, despite the trepidation in his heart over whether or not he actually will see Edward ever again. 

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This is insanity, it’s absolute insanity. It’s only been a note here or there, the odd sensation of being watched. But nothing concrete, nothing that would indicate an escalation like this. How did no one see her though? Recognize her? And now this box is left on her doorstep out of the blue. Kristen is allowed to be happy, she deserves to be happy. But all she gets is little reprieves before that bitch comes back and decides to screw with everything. Screw with her happiness. Yeah, she shot a man in the head but she could have been free. She could have been free from her inhibitions and worries about her preferences and sexuality. 

How did she know where to find where she buried the bastard? Why would she go back and dig it up? How can she be sure that the trunk was reburied? Kristen doesn’t want that man found ever, he deserves the burial he got, stuck in a worthless hole in the woods. Did Edward sell her out? No. No he wouldn’t do that. Not after the other night. She needs to rebury it, she thinks as Kristen shakily gets to her feet and approaches the box, picking up the lid on the way and slamming it onto the box before she can see the contents again. 

“Ooookay. Okay. You can do this Kristen.” She mutters as she heads into her basement, still in the process of being cleaned per Nygma’s strict instructions and locating her shovel.

“Just a drive out to the woods to rebury your bastard father’s head after your insane cousin dug it up and left it on your doorstep. For some fucking reason.”

Perhaps it’d be best if she left town for a bit, she feels bad leaving Edward and Oswald behind but… 

That doll obsessed freak of nature can’t be allowed to keep fucking up her life. Taking a deep breath. She sets down the shovel and goes about packing up as much as her stuff as she can. Clothes, her notebooks, she pauses at the door to her office. Licking her lips. 

She’s going to burn all the clues and hints. Burn everything. The Cluemaster is dead, and that’s how it’s going to stay. Then she’s going to rebury the head and leave Gotham. Perhaps she’ll send a letter back to let the boys know she’s okay. Maybe she won’t. All she knows is she’s disappearing for a bit.  

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She’s deep in her focus, typing rapidly at her computer when a hand runs through one of her long pigtails. Biting her lip, she’s grateful for the distraction from her college work after the horrifying experience of the door to the townhouse opening on its own and the box disappearing inside. Gotham is a bizarre and strange place, but a haunted house still seems like it’d be a bit of a stretch for the place. 

“Hey gorgeous… are you working hard?”
“Hehe, yeah… I dropped that box off like you requested.”
“Oh? And was it collected?”
“Mmhmm!”
“Delightful. You’ve been working so hard, I’ve even kept the library open late just for you but-”
“I still need a little time. I might have to pull an all-nighter if you can just keep it open for a little longer? I’d be so- so grateful. I’ll do anything, Mommy.” 
The woman sighs and rests her hands on her shoulders. “Oh, my little Ley. You’re lucky you’re so cute and useful, tell you what, you help me with a very special project in… Oh let’s say about an hour. I’ll make sure you can keep using the library computers all night. Okay?” 

She grins and pushes herself up out of the chair to squeeze Mommy tight before she quickly sits back down and starts typing faster, murmuring out a thanks when a steaming cup of tea, Mommy’s special blend, is set by her computer before the sound of heels is retreating and she’s left to her work for an hour as promised. Once the hour is up almost to the minute she’s retrieved and, draining the rest of the cup of now-cold tea, she follows along happily. 

“We. Are going to deliver something to someone.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again, my sweet. But this time it’s much more important, and the payout will be much sweeter. And will take one of the players out of my game, for a time.”

They stop at the older woman’s townhome, Ley walking in a little bit, in awe of the sheer amount of porcelain dolls Mommy has collected. Pausing at the one with the missing shoe, it was an odd doll. Red hair pulled back into a ponytail, blue eyes and very interestingly framed glasses. It’s almost like it was a doll made to look like her lover, but the clothing style was all off. Maybe it was from when she was younger. Anyways, she’s been told they’re all her babies, just like Ley is her baby. And if she does a really good job, she’ll join the dolls one day. The notion makes something weird and uncomfortable squirm in her stomach, and whenever the dolls are brought up she’s distinctly uncomfortable. But everything will be okay, she’s certain of it. Because finally someone loves her in the way she deserves!

Out of the home again she’s led to the woman’s car, standing at the trunk of it as Mommy opens it and she peers inside. Only to be horrified at the contents.

“That- that’s an old lady. Why- why is there an old lady in your trunk? Is she okay? Why’s she all stiff? Is she alive?”
She’s silenced with a finger to her lips. “She’s alive, my sweet.”
“Who is she?”
“Just some old whore no one will miss.” The trunk is slammed shut. “Well, no one who matters anyways.”
“Where are we taking her…?”
The grin that stretches across the older woman’s face sets her on edge, it’s too wide and too toothy. “My dear, we’re going to deliver this old bat to Theo Galavan.”
“They mayor? Why are you kidnapping some old lady for the mayor??”
“It’s a public service darling, and as a librarian, is it not my duty to serve the public?”

She’s pretty sure that that is definitely not how it works. Not even in the slightest. But she’s in too deep and if she’s capable of kidnapping what looks like some poor defenseless old lady, there’s no telling what else she’s capable of. 

This isn’t just some silly game anymore. And it feels like the curtain is being lifted, the older woman’s true nature finally making itself known to her.

The next day at school, still shaken from her experience with her girlfriend the night before, Ley hurries into the offices to sign up for her clinical internship. Shuffling through the papers until she finds it. Arkham Asylum. The most difficult and time consuming of all the options to work at to finish off her PhD, whatever keeps her away from Ms. Bella so maybe that crazy broad will get the hint and let her live. Though she doesn’t think it’ll be so easy. Still it’s worth a shot, she thinks as she pulls out her pen and scrawls her name on the sign up sheet.  

Harleen Frances Quinzel

｡･ﾟﾟ･　End Part One　･ﾟﾟ･｡

Chapter Text

Dreams that used to delight him were now only a source of pain, leaving him trembling in his bed as tears dripped down his face. Edward doesn't know what they did to break Oswald so badly in Arkham, but the meek and docile man that had come to visit him was not the man he'd wound up falling head over heels for. The man he spent the last couple of months picking apart a gang for, both through legal and illegal means. It felt like his heart had shattered in his chest, still he'd offered his aid should Oswald ever need it, but seeing him like that had hurt too much to keep him around for very long. 

Someone was going to have to pay for this, he thinks after sitting in bed for an hour. Trying to shake pleasant dreams that were knives in his chest from his mind. He doesn't know who's going to pay, but someone. How could Gordon have allowed this to happen? After taking Oswald's side after the cruise incident, how could anyone picture Oswald killing his own mother? Edward tries to rationalize it in his head as he thinks about the amount of care Ozzie always puts into recreating his mother's dishes.

Edward exhales heavily, swinging his legs over the side of his bed to go to his desk. Jim Gordon, the GCPD, Arkham, they were going to pay for taking Oswald from him. He's going to show them what happens when he's crossed, and then he's going to snap Oswald out of whatever weird spell they'd put him under. The voice in the back of his mind whispers it's encouragement, no longer a hallucination, Oswald making him whole by indirectly forcing himself to accept all sides of his personality. All the more reason to put together his plan. He grins down at the papers on his desk as he scribbles out plans and notes. 

This was going to be fun. 

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Gothamites were born different, Kristen muses as she stares down at a newspaper stand, selecting the Gotham publications. It had to be that way, two months in Metropolis and she was bored out of her mind. Nothing ever happened in this city and frankly the sun was blinding. Everyday was a ‘beautiful’ day, you almost expected to see some shining beacon of heroism beaming from the top of every building. It was enough to turn any Gothamite worth their salt’s stomach. She thinks as she pays for her papers before heading back to her apartment. Flopping down on the couch and dropping them to the side as she surveys the first one. Looking it over, it’s a gossip rag, tossed to the side. The next one is a little heartier and she pages through it, greeting her roommate when she comes in. 

“Hey Steph.”
“Kris! You doing some reading?” 
“Yep. Missing the homecity you know? Wanted to see what the most recent mob killing is.” She chuckles as she pages through the news. A story about a bombing catches her eye, not so much the bombing itself. On a certain scale those were a dime a dozen but this was more interesting, it was more than just a bombing, she finds as she reads the article. Weird hints and puzzles lead the GCPD on a wild good chase, framing Gordon. She sits up and flips through it, looking through it for more information, reading along in the article as Steph goes throughout her after work routine. There’s no way this is happening. He’s dead. Kristen buried and reburied the pieces and everything.

Tossing down that paper she starts going through the other newspapers, trying to find more information. Noting the date of the first one, it’s an old paper. It figures, not like people care about Gotham outside of Gotham. Finding a more recent one she freezes, looking at the front page before she pulls it out and stares at the front of it. Smart men really are a goddamn hassle, she thinks, as Ed’s face stares right back at her. Looking like a kicked kitten which is unsurprising. He’s being thrown in Arkham and she grits her teeth. Running her fingers over her eyes under her glasses, she sighs. 

“So. I’m going to have to go back home for a bit.”
“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.” Her roommate's voice comes from the other room. “Something come up?”
“You could say that.”
 
There’s the sound of footsteps before she’s startled by her two suitcases flying into the wall by the front door, the sound of a gun clicking behind her. Kristen swallows and holds her hands up.

“How about you stay, permanently.”
“Stephanie what-”
“Shut up. You can’t fool me, with those cheap glasses and shitty dye job. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, if my aunt put you up to this. But you better get your happy ass back to Gotham, and you better stay there. Estranged is estranged. I don’t know where that psycho's money is. You fucked up bitch.” 

So Bella had been here, she should have expected that, really. But then again, taking up residence with her unaware half-sister was a shot in the dark. Not really wanting to argue, this isn’t the time for an uncomfortable reveal, she slowly stands up and walks over to the suitcases. They’re all packed perfectly and she picks them up. Kristen does pause to take the key to the apartment off the keyring, tossing it on the floor.

“Keep yourself safe, Stephanie.” 
The gun is cocked. “Is that a threat?”
Kristen opens the door and shoves her luggage out before turning back. “No. It’s a warning. You know how I am.”

And with that she’s gone, driving back to Gotham and it’s almost like she can feel the odd discomfort leaving her body as the sky turns gray the closer she gets to home. Once she’s there, it’s simply a matter of getting herself a new apartment, getting set up. That takes a few days, then… then she has to figure out how to inform Ed that she’s back in town finding Oswald is only a matter of getting the information out of Edward, after all. She can’t simply just send a letter to him, too obvious. Kristen doesn’t want to let her cousin know she’s back in town. Much less where she came from.

Pulling off her glasses to rub at her eyes she pauses. Looking down at the admittedly really recognizable frames, considering it for a few long minutes she decides that it’s about time for an update, anyways. As much as she loathes the idea of playing Ed’s disturbingly reminiscent games just to get a message across.  Bringing up her bank account she looks at the still untouched inheritance money, then down over at her suitcases that are still not unpacked. Kristen simply grabbing new clothes from them by the day.  Screw it, her whole look needs an upgrade. 

A couple weeks later she turns, inspecting herself in the mirror before grabbing her coat and swinging it around her shoulders. Finally Arkham had granted her permission to visit Edward, she headed down to her car to start the drive out. She didn’t particularly want to visit Ed but she felt she should out of an obligation to Oswald, and… admittedly it’s been lonely without having someone breathing down her neck with stupid riddles and little facts. Even if Edward was never her favorite person, he was still one of the closest things she’s had to a second friend in recent memory. So here she is being buzzed into the asylum and getting pat down before she’s sat across from a rather downtrodden looking Edward Nygma.

“Kristen.”
“Edward.” 
"The look is new." 
"I needed and upgrade, leather suits me, I think."
“Mm. I'm sure at one point in my life I would have agreed."
"Spare me."
"I was shocked you’d turn to something like sending me your glasses to let me know you were back.”
“...I have my reasons for the covert announcement.”
“Are you in any danger?”
“Potentially but if I’m being truthful, that’s always been the case. You know who I’m related to, his other relatives aren’t exactly…happy I exist. And his madness is hereditary.”
“Hopefully you missed that gene. Do I get to learn about this mysterious danger?”
“Nope. Has Ozzie come to see you?”

This seems to deflate the man even more, sliding his hands off the table and leaning back in his chair. Looking out towards the window.

“He hasn’t, and in the state he’s in right now, I wouldn’t want him to.”
This takes her by surprise. “Did you two fight?”
“No. He was framed for the murder of his mother, then arrested for the murder of Theo Galavan. And tossed in here. When he was let out he was… He wasn’t him. He was this meek, passive man and I-” Edward swallows, looking upset. He shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t the man I fell in love with.”

Kristen knows that Edward probably doesn’t have the whole story around things, though she doesn’t doubt that Theo Galavan is dead by Oswald’s hands. Gertrude… there’s an ache in her heart that she had left before that went down. She let her best friend down, and wasn't here to support or help him during what was probably the most devastating loss of Oswald’s life. Sighing shakily she can’t help but wipe a couple tears from her eyes. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, I’ll… I’ll go find him and talk to him. I want to apologize for not being here when…” Kristen can’t bring herself to say it, Mrs. Kapelput had invited her into her home, fed her and clothed her when she needed it. Doing her best to help her son’s friend even if it was beyond her means. She wishes she’d gone to see her before all this went down. “Gertrude was very kind to me back then.” 
Edward shifts back and forth. “From what he told me, she seemed like a very lovely woman.”
“You two hadn’t met?”
“He didn’t want to get her hopes up about grandkids.” 

Kristen chuckles and sighs. “Do you know where Oz is now?” 
“He sent me a letter, right before I was sent to Arkham. I snuck it in.” Edward fishes it out of his clothes and slides it across the table, unopened. “I haven’t had the heart to open it. I feel… broken. In a way I haven’t felt before. Being in here doesn’t help either, surrounded by idiots and madmen.” He scowls, continuing to speak as Kristen slides the letter off the table and into her bag. "Anyways hopefully, a hint to his location will be in there."
Kristen wonders vaguely if he avoided the word 'clue' on purpose. “Anything else I need to know?”
“If you can think of a way to snap him out of it, be my guest. And if you can figure out a way to break me out of here? Even better.”

Kristen nods and moves to stand, a younger employee (intern maybe? Who’d intern here, she thinks.) walking over and clapping Edward on the shoulder.

“Alright Mr. Riddles, time to go back to your cell! Didja have a nice chat with your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my- Miss Quinzel we’ve been over this.”
“Yeah, yeah you definitely had a romantic entanglement with the Penguin. Sure. That’s just as real as your lady friend here.” The young woman rolls her eyes and gestures over at Kristen, who’s eyebrows twitch inward. Her wording… It’s odd. Like she doesn’t believe that Kristen was there. 

But that’s not her problem, she thinks as the young woman, Miss Quinzel, leads Edward back to the cells and Kristen takes her leave. Though there is a tiny voice in the back of her head that wants to see her again.  

She’s quite pretty.

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Ever since the death of Elijah Van Dahl, Oswald has felt like a fraying metal rope that was slowly plinking apart. Every day a few more of the strands that make it up snap and he knows, he knows that something bad is going to happen when it breaks. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to stop it. He knows he should, knows that he should stay on the straight and narrow and whatever he’s going to do once it breaks won’t fix any of his problems. But there’s something itching at the back of his head, something more behind the tragic loss of his mother. Too many odd coincidences that have led up to where he is now. Not to mention the devastated look that had flitted across Ed’s face when he’d gone to see him.  

It had hurt. 

Understanding that Edward was traveling a different path was easy to deal with, they were never a true couple. It was all a farce at the end of the day despite their very real friendship. But the pain in his eyes for that moment. The more cables snap the more he wants to pry into that expression, into that emotion. At least until he’s brought out of his thoughts by Grace Van Dahl snapping her fingers in his face and he dumbly holds up her drink.

“ Thank you, there’s a weird girl at the door to see you. Make it quick, I don't want dinner late today.”
He smiles, politely but tight. “Of course, ma’am.”

Walking to the front hall of the manor, he knows who it is. Probably. At least of all the people he can choose from there’s only one who would actually show up here to speak to him and as he turns into the front hall of the Van Dahl manor he’s unsurprised to see Kristen there. Looking around with a mild look of distaste and shifting from foot to foot. 

“Kristen!”

“Oswald.” She rushes forward and embraces him tightly. “I’m sorry I left! I’m sorry about your mother I wish- I should have-”

Another little cable snaps. He licks his lips. 

“It- you couldn’t have known what was going to happen, Krissy.”
“That’s true but still… Gertrude meant a lot to me.” She sighs. “So. How are we getting Edward out of Arkham?”

Oswald feels a little unsure, he doesn’t like this feeling and he opens his mouth before shrugging. “We’ll just… wait till he gets released?” 
She stares, dumbfounded at him. “What?”

“Well… he did do a bunch of stuff while I was in Arkham, blowing up that train station, the art gallery attack. As much as I’d like to have him back… It’s in the hands of the law and the doctors at Arkham now.” 
“You’re kidding me. Holy shit that freak wasn’t pulling my leg when he said you weren’t the same man.”
Ozzie’s eye twitches, another snap. “He doesn’t like it when people call him a freak.”
“He should have thought of that then, before he started acting like one.” She snaps.

He’s got no idea where this attitude is coming from. Kristen has always been such a sweet girl, that’s why he’d always gone to the lengths he did to keep her safe. Frowning, he crosses his arms. “Well if you’ve got nothing better to do here than call someone dear to us names, and insist we break him out of someplace where he’ll get help, then I’ve got work to do.” He turns, intending to head back into the depths of the manor. 

“Help him, like they helped you?” That gives him pause, and he turns to look at her. Her face set into a look of determination that he’s not unfamiliar with. For all of her sweet attitude, Krissy could be stubborn when she wanted to be. “I know you Oswald. I have books upon book upon books of anecdotes, crime reports, demerits I never handed to the Sisters, that say that it should not have been easy. No. It should not have been possible to turn you into this sniveling excuse of a man.” 

The wires keep snapping. One by one. Though that’s the danger of friends, isn’t it? Just as much as they know how to build you up, they can also break you down brick by brick and he can’t summon so much as a word as she continues to barrel on as she had when she’d stood up for him after that disastrous cruise when he’d given in to impulse.

“Ed is nowhere near the level of dangerous I was. They would never put him through what they put me through. Even if they did, there are proper channels-”
“Did proper channels get your mother killed, Oswald? Did following the rules keep the woman that was a beacon of light in the dark for both of us alive?”
He licks his lips. “There’s still-”
“Nygma loves you. Or rather, loved.” He doesn’t have the heart to tell her it was all fake. That it wasn’t real and that she’s been played for a fool. “But I can see why he’s so upset now. This isn’t the man he loved, this isn’t even the friend I made. So. Good bye, Oswald. Enjoy your new life with your shiny new family. I hope your father likes this new you. Everyone else in your life hates him.”

She turns and storms back out of the house, he feels like he’s hanging by a thread. Her words affected him more than he would have expected. More effective than the torment he’s been suffering at the hands of his stepfamily at snapping all those little wires, he sighs running his hands over his face. It’s true to a point that he and Edward cared for each other, and that he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him. It makes him think about what Elijah had told him that unfortunate night of his passing, about the darkness in people. The darkness his father had seen in his own father. 

“You are loved, and you are not alone.”

Is that true though? The woman he’d considered his best friend, even after they’d drifted apart, hates the person he currently is. The man who’d, out of no obligation to keep it up, pretended to love him for a time because of a foolish and impulsive decision he’d made now was bereft at the person he currently is. Sighing shakily, he has work to get back to. This can be mulled over later once he’s finished what was asked of him.  

Later that night, staring down at the dog on the floor, foam dribbling from its mouth, there’s the distinct mental sensation of that last pesky wire snapping. And it’s all he can do to keep himself from laughing loud enough for that rotten bitch and her spoiled brats to hear. Servitude didn’t suit him, and he’s frankly embarrassed at his actions while under Strange’s weird spell. Oswald is going to get his life, his friends, his city, back. It’s what was rightfully owed to him, after all. Though first, retribution against these worms who thought they had any claim to the Van Dahl manor and fortune. 

After all, all that was owed to him too. His father had said as much right before he passed. Besides, it would prove very useful if he was going to prove to Kristen that at least in some small way, he was right, and that he could get what he wanted by going through ‘the proper channels’. 

Might as well put this shiny new clean slate to use before he bloodies it up, he thinks as he pours himself a drink. 

He’s got a long night ahead of him. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Edward sits across from Kristen as she rants and raves, it’s like watching her when she was drunk almost. But she’s far more coherent and she’s not recording his crimes word for word, so this is a distinct improvement. It’s been a few weeks since he’s last seen her, having received letters about her progress in the city. Updates about this and that, nothing about Oswald, unfortunately. And her subsequent visit leads him to believe that she failed. That Oswald is still… that weird man.

“Does he even love you? Does he even care about what happens to you?! It’s like- it’s like he’s been faking everything!” He bites his tongue. “This isn’t- I can’t- I may not like you, Mr. Nygma, but this is an injustice against you.” She huffs. “I can’t even think of what I’d do to snap him out of it at this point. Bar from straight up calling him by his birth name over and over until he stabbed me in the neck. Which I would never do.”
“Of course, no need to stoop lower than the low.”
“Exactly.” She rests her head in her hands. “What if… what if I broke you out of here myself? Then we spend a couple months gathering up all the information we can and we take over Gotham’s underworld. Or well, I would.”
That hardly seems fair but she’s not in her right mind at the moment, he feels.  
“Anyways. Having the title of ‘King of Gotham’ reclaimed faster than he had gotten his hands on it… The way Ozzie is… That’d have to work!” 
“Ms. Kringle while I’m sure that’d probably have some kind of effect on him, I don’t think that’s the best idea. I mean, breaking me out of Arkham? That’s so dangerous. How would we even do that I-”

“Mr. Riddles! Talking to your imaginary girlfriend again? Came over because I heard you mention something about breaking out, and I kiiiiiiinda gotta write that stuff down for Dr. Strange.”

Both of them look up at the young woman then at each other. Kristen Kringle is certainly not invisible nor imaginary so he’s got no idea where this is coming from. Looking back up at the young intern he clears his throat.

“Miss Quinzel, I assure you my friend, Ms. Kringle, is real.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like you haven’t been receiving letters that are nothing but garbled jargon.” 

Edward freezes to look at her. Those letters weren't garbled... in fact Kristen's handwriting is very neat and precise when there's no adrenaline or other substances in her body. He wonders, internally, if Quinzel is under the influence of some kind of substance. Either knowingly or not. Though she's been so kind, outside of blatantly ignoring his visitor, that it leaves a cold pit in his stomach to think that someone would put the young woman under enough drugs and mental manipulation to literally not be able to see someone. His attention is stolen by Kristen when she speaks up. Rightfully bothered by the girls attitude and behavior. 

“Young lady I don’t know what kind of joke you’re playing, if you think it’s funny to mess with the patients in an asylum-”
“And that empty box? I don’t understand how you got the shrink to believe that those glasses actually do exist.” The girl laughs.
“Miss Q, she just spoke to you.”
“Yeah? And what’d she say?”
“Is- is this a joke? Are you playing a joke right now?” “Unbelievable.” Kristen mutters, rolling her eyes and standing up. “Hi! Yes! Hello! Everyone in this… lunchroom! Can you all please confirm to young Miss Quinzel here that you can, in fact, see me?”
There’s murmurings and affirmations from patients and visitors and staff alike, the woman laughing nervously. “C-c’mon… you- you couldn’t have gotten everyone in on the joke, right? I’m even- I’m even gonna-” 

Both Kristen and Edward watch as the intern lifts her hand and moves it towards Kristen slowly, waving it like someone trying to find something in the dark. Looking over at Ed and giving him a front row seat to the smile sliding off her face and her eyes widening in horror as she makes contact with Kristen’s chest, patting around up to her shoulder and holding onto it. There’s more nervous laughter.

“This- this isn’t happening, right? There’s- there’s someone there? Has there always been someone there? Makes sense I guess… you’re a forensics expert, there’s no way you’d- I- oh… oh no. Oh nononononono.” Blood starts to drip from her nose as she looks over to where her hand is touching. “Oh shit… there really is someone there. Man, does my head hurt.” Her brows furrow as the blood hits her lips and she brings a hand up to touch her nose and look at her fingers. “Oh, that ain’t great. You um, you have a good visit. Mr. Riddles. I’m gonna… gonna go do my rounds.” 

“Miss Quinzel, are you okay?”
“We’ll talk later, ‘kay? I’ll bring you a book of crosswords or somethin’ like last time.”

The young woman leaves in a hurry, pushing through the guards at the exit of the visiting area, and the two of them look at each other. Perplexed. Kristen more worried than he is. Edward clears his throat. 

“Stick around until her shift ends, see where she goes.”
“My thoughts exactly. Did you tell her you’re a forensics expert?”

Edward shakes his head slowly. 

“No. No I didn’t. And the interns don’t have access to that level of detailed files.”
“.... Oh boy."

Chapter Text

Edward wasn’t too sure how much stock he should put in the words of a girl clearly under the influence of someone and something, enough so that breaking the spell caused a nosebleed. But just the same as Jim Gordon coming up to his door with a difficult case, he was enraptured by the idea of potentially getting another book of crossword puzzles. Enough so that he was unable to sleep, still not having received the questionably promised item, so he turned to the dreams that still sparked a deep ache in his chest. But had softened at the edges as he relied on them more and more to soften the blows of daily life in Arkham. Slipping off his glasses and stretching up to set them on the small ledge by his window, he allows himself to slip into his fantasy. 

Someone’s dead by their hands, it didn’t matter who really all that mattered was that a problem of theirs was out of the way. Sometimes it’s Jim, sometimes Harvey, sometimes some unnamed underworld creep. Either way Oswald’s eyes are glittering as he hands Ed a glass of wine. They toast and both drink from their glasses. The atmosphere is heady in the sitting room of the mansion, and he pulls the smaller man close. 

“Oswald… These past months, I must admit I find myself falling madly in love with you. I know this started off as a farce but…” 
Oswald gently rests a finger against Ed’s lips. “Hush, I’ve found myself feeling the same way, Edward.” 

It doesn’t matter where the wine glasses go as he’s pulling the man more firmly into his embrace, their lips meeting in a warm, passionate kiss that slowly becomes more heated. Edward swallows up the little noises Oz makes as Ed gropes and squeezes at his butt, walking them backwards until he’s got Oswald pressed to the wall. The two pressed together at every possible point of connection. He slips a thigh between his lover’s legs, groaning at the blazing heat, unable to keep himself from rolling his hips against Oz. 

Shivering, he turns towards the wall and presses his thighs together, rubbing them slightly before he gives in and slips his hand into his pants. Cramming his fist into his mouth to hide any noises as he wraps his hand around his cock. There’s some clanging but it seems so far away as he indulges himself, slowly stroking his cock as he imagines himself teasing Oz, slowly undoing his pants, sliding his hand into his underwear. Oswald whispering heatedly into Ed’s ear.

“Mmm… I’ve always loved how your hands feel, Eddie…”

“Hey, Mr. Riddles?”

Edward just barely holds back a scream as he rips his hand off of his cock, flinging himself over and winding up on the floor of his cell. Clambering clumsily up to his feet, breathing heavily. The figure is fuzzy without his glasses and they’re handed down to him. Something he's grateful for even in his panic, it wouldn't have been good if he fumbled them to the ground and broke them. Sliding them on he blinks a couple times.

“Miss Quinzel?!” He pants. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Interrupting something, I guess.” She’s staring pointedly at his groin and he quickly sinks down onto his cot and crosses his legs. Face hot. “I can go back up into the vents? Let you uuuuh… finish up?”

Well. That explains the clanging. How did she even find her way into the vents? How did she fit?

“How did you get here?”
“I do gymnastics and I like free climbing. Anyways. If you’re not gonna finish beating your hog I’ll get to the point.”

Edward’s face screws up at her euphemism but watches as she pulls a satchel forward, pulling out a yearbook before going into her shirt and pulling a photo out of her bra, he assumes. The photo is held out first and he takes it gingerly, inspecting it. It’s a photo of Kringle, presumably from her college cheerleader days. At one point in his life he’d be salivating over it but now it’s just an interesting bit of history, he’s a little curious to know what Oswald looked like in a cheerleader’s uniform. Despite the fact that what he’s imagining most definitely wouldn’t be the reality. Maybe he can ask Oswald about wearing one if he ever gets out of here, and Oswald ever breaks whatever brainwashing he’s under. The yearbook is shown to him next.

“You’re a detail oriented fella, are those two women the same?” 

Edward looks at the image, the name is covered up by a bit of tape and he goes to peel it off only to get his hand smacked just a little and he gives up. Inspecting the two photos carefully, the two are almost identical but there’s a couple minute differences between them and he shakes his head.
“No. They’re incredibly similar, if I didn’t know Ms. Kringle was an only child,” He wiggles the old photo. “I’d say they’re twins. Well for all I know they are and they were separated.” 

Harley’s lips are set in a grim line and she takes the photo and the yearbook back.  “So she really is real, huh? I shoulda known… I’ve seen her,” The yearbook is wiggled. “Dying her hair so I should have put two and two together. It sucks, cause your friend is…” She hesitates. “She’s really pretty… she looks so sweet and I can’t believe I let myself get suckered into falling in love with a photograph…” 
“You wouldn’t be the first person to fall in love with an imagined version of Kristen Kringle.” 
Harley giggles. “That’s such a silly name! Oh!” She goes for her satchel again and pulls out a couple of puzzle books and a pen. “Here. As promised. I… thank you, Mr. Riddles.”
Edward has to restrain himself from snatching them out of her hands, excited before he pauses. Thinking of her odd behavior, and the nosebleed. “... Has she been doing something to you, Miss Quinzel? I know I’m just a patient in a crazy house, but I do have at least one dangerous connection.”

“Mr. Penguin?” He nods. “I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself. And… I’m gonna search her house. If I find anything, I’ll bring it back. ‘Kay? Mr. Forensic scientist.” She skips forward, giggling, and leans down to give him a tight hug and he has the distinct feeling he’s not going to be seeing Harley for a while. He hugs her back, giving her back a little pat. It’s awkward but he’s never been the best at comfort to begin with. It feels very much like he’s letting a little sister or something go run off and join a biker gang, or something.

“Be careful, okay?”
“I will! You have fun with whatever little penguin fantasies you’ve got going on up there.” Harley smiles cheerfully, as if trying to reassure him as she pokes his forehead. She looks up at the vent. “Hey gimme a boost before you go back to your solo-show?”
His face wrinkles up in disgust again. “Fine.”

After she’s gone he thinks about the nickname she keeps calling him. ‘Mr. Riddles.’ It’s not bad, but he can’t imagine running around being called ‘Mr. Riddles’. He’ll have to workshop it a little. Every good villain is known by a specific moniker after all.

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Coming up with information on every single person in the underworld of Gotham was hard when you no longer had access to the archives at the GCPD, leaving Kristen to wonder if they’d let her come back to her old position. It’s not like she’s been involved in any of the crimes that Edward and Oswald had committed, sans one. But she’s off the hook for that one, which she hates internally because it means she owes Nygma something, and she’d rather not owe Nygma anything. Walking up the steps to her apartment complex she nearly leaps out of her skin to see Oswald standing there. 

“Oswald.” She pushes past him, still sour over their conversation.
“Oh don’t be like that Krissy, after all I took the time to wash all of my step-mother’s blood off before I came here. Just for you.” 
Kristen pauses, turning back to look at the manic smile on his face. So he’s come back to himself, perhaps her words really did have an effect on her. But she’s still sore about the whole thing. “What do you want, Ozzie?”
“I wanted to tell you that soon enough, I’ll have a job for you. A proper job. And I’ll be getting Edward out of Arkham.”
“Don’t bother, I’m seeing to that myself.”
“And how is that going?”
“... We got sidetracked by this girl who apparently literally couldn’t see me.”

Oswald gives her a look and she shrugs. Unsure of what to tell him, that Quinzel girl was a beautiful mystery. But that’s someone else’s problem, there’s no way it could possibly connect to them, right? Right. It’s definitely not weird that the girl was only influenced to not see Kristen and she’s not going to dwell on how that’d be a very specific drug to synthesize and that there’s only one person she knows personally who could do that and have reason to make people not see her.         

“Well there’s your issue. Anyways I was coming to say that you should keep your head down and out of the way for a little bit. I’ll handle things for a bit.”
“Do I have to stop visiting Nygma?”
“Don’t sound too thrilled about that idea, and you can still visit him if you’d like.” Oswald pats her on the shoulder and gives her forearm a little squeeze. “Thank you, by the way. For coming to see me, I couldn’t say if I’d have come back to myself if you didn’t. But I will be proving you wrong. I like the new look, by the way.” 

He winks and then makes his way down the steps, turning and heading off down the street as she lets herself into her building. Shaking her head. She should have known that he’d have taken something in her rant to him about Edward as a challenge. Making her way up the stairs to her unit, it feels like something is off but she can’t quite place what. Her apartment is still locked, and she slips her hand into her pocket, wrapping it around the handle of a knife as she unlocks the door and slips inside. Doing her best to keep quiet before she flicks on the light in her living room, startled to see the girl from the asylum there.

“Miss Quinzel!! How on Earth did you get in here?”
“Window by the fire escape, I wanted to come apologize, but the penguin guy was already taking up your front stoop.”
“So you break into my house?”

Harley is quiet for a while before she stands up and walks over to Kristen, pushing some hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek. Looking her face up and down. 

“You really are the more beautiful one.” 

Kristen stutters, looking to the side. She hasn’t allowed herself to entertain the attention of women in so long, rubbing the back of her neck and licking her lips. Trying not to let herself dwell on that for too long, beautiful huh.

“Your sister or- or cousin or whatever, I dunno what she’s up to but she’s been doing some weird shit. She had me set up a trap for you at that football game, she’s had me follow you. That- that whole business with that old dude’s head, that was me. She wanted to scare you. I- I guess she’s just been using the fact that I found you pretty to manipulate me. Anyways, I’m telling you this because I want you to be careful, she’s got some kinda… thing for your tall friend. Mr. Riddles.”

Kristen is taken aback, her cousin was using this girl? There’s the immediate desire to keep her here and interrogate her about what she’s seen and what she knows. What she means by a 'thing' for Nygma, Bella has never had a genuine 'thing' for anyone. But she can’t do much else besides stay quiet and let her continue talking. 

“I don't know what it’s about but she’s had me following him and that penguin guy.”
“So I should stay away from them?”
“No. Stay close, from what I can gather, from what little I know, is that she had me forget you or- or not see you, for a reason and I can only imagine it’s because you know her the best.” Harley’s quiet for a moment. “You probably won’t see me ever again. I’m gonna gather what evidence I can from her place, give it to the cops maybe, if I make it out alive. But I wanted to apologize and give you that warning.”

Harley stands up and walks over to the window with the fire escape. Kristen is powerless to stop her, still processing all this information in addition to the instructions given to her by Oswald. Did she really come back to Gotham just for nothing? Just to go back to waiting all over again? It pisses her off and she grabs something off of her coffee table and throws it at the window after Harley has  made her way out of it and down the fire escape. Fine, she’ll wait and she’ll visit Edward. Maybe she’ll try to get her GCPD job back in the meantime while she waits for whatever plan Oswald has goes into effect. But it better be worth it, or she’s going back to Metropolis, having to deal with her half-sister be damned.   

Outside, Harley slides down the last bit of the fire escape and quickly makes her way down the alley to the figure standing at the end.

"Okay I did what you told me to, I told Ms. Kringle the truth and I put Mr. Riddles on the path of figuring out that other woman's a nut job. Not to mention, keeping him outta Strange's weirdo experiments AND I gave him those puzzle books. Even pretended I was still under the influence of whatever that shit was she gave me, thank god it’s dry as fuck in that place. Got a decently timed nosebleed. Am I forgiven now?"

Penguin studies his fingernails, snorting derisively. "Young lady, you may not have been an active or willing participant, but you're still an accessory to the kidnapping that ended with my mother's death." He pushes himself off the side of the building to glare at her. "So no, I'm afraid, you're not. However you've earned yourself a reprieve. Should you survive your ill-advised mission I might call on you for something else, until then you won't hear from me." 

Fair enough, Harley thinks as she watches as he pulls out a checkbook and scribbles something out, before ripping it off and holding it out to her. "Some incentive to survive." Taking the check, she glances at the number before gaping. It's enough to cover tuition plus extra for the rest of her PhD without her scholarship, with it… Folding it up small she tucks it securely into her bra. Determined to get in and out of Ms. Bella's house in one piece. Shifting back and forth, she thinks for a moment before going into her satchel and pulling something out of it, handing it over to Penguin who takes it, confused. 

"Ms. Bella said it was 'too nice' for your ma and stole it off of her. But she's rotten as hell so… I took it. She doesn’t deserve anything nice." The Penguin inspects the bracelet before pocketing it, if she didn't know better she'd say his eyes looked a little wet. Harley can't help but feel for him, the guilt almost overwhelming. Frigging Catholic school upbringing. She rocks back and forth on her feet. “Also, uh, just between you and me, I don’t think that Mr. Riddles is fakin’ it anymore, the whole love thing.”

Oswald gives her an odd look, like he knows that at least a little but the thought has never been voiced. For whatever reason, Harley can only guess at. “And your point is?”
“Dunno. Just doesn’t seem like it’d be fair to keep jerkin’ him around.” She shrugs.
“... I’ll take that into consideration, be safe, Miss Quinzel.” He reaches behind himself and she tenses up before he’s holding out a gun to her. She takes it, hesitantly, and tucks it in the back of her own waistband, concealed under her hoodie. “I hope you won’t have to use that.”

And with that he turns and heads back down the alley, leaving her to the grim task of making her way to her… ex? Girlfriend’s home. She’s out for the night, fortunately, and Harley never returned her key. Creeping into the home and quietly locking the door behind her before she goes through everything she can find. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, there’s all of her dolls staring at her and she hates it. They’re less inviting now that she knows what she knows. There’s nothing obvious and it’s starting to get frustrating until she remembers that tea that she had always been given by her. Looking through the cabinets in the kitchen she finds an unmarked tin and pitches it in her satchel. Not bothering to check and hoping it’s paying off.

Then ransacks every medicine cabinet she can find in the house, anything that looks weird or off gets chucked into her satchel. Anything she can think of to have her roommate analyze. There’s very little that’s not some kind of drug used to attempt to treat psychopathy. Psychostimulants, mood stabilizers, antipsychotics. Dextroamphetamine, lithium, flupentixol, valporic acid, asenapine. There’s a smattering of antidepressants as well. All of it’s… eye opening, and terrifying. Harley’s face twitches in annoyance as she looks around, before she remembers the door to the basement. It was always locked, and she seemed to recall that there was a key… somewhere. There’s not enough time for that though, Bella will be arriving back home soon so she slips a couple bobby pins from her hair. Picking the lock with a practiced ease.  

Creaking open, not unlike in a horror movie, she grimaces down at the entrance to the dark basement. Taking them one step at a time, they creak and she’s made even more nervous by the sounds of rattling she hears from below. Step by step, she makes her way into the basement and feels around for a light switch. Flicking it, her breath catches in her throat. Almost a scream as she looks around. It’s… a laboratory? Morgue? She’s not sure but there’s a gurney with a woman on it, she’s struggling, explaining the rattling she was hearing. 

Approaching carefully, she looks down at the woman, her skin is weird and stiff, not cold and dead but almost. Her face is completely stiff and still besides a pair of bloodshot eyes that look over at Harley. There’s medical equipment hooked up to her, monitoring her vitals. Is this Bella’s ultimate goal? To turn people into living porcelain dolls? Is this what she wanted to do to Mr. Riddles? All of the sudden the woman on the gurney moves, her arm coming up stiffly like that of a dolls and trying to grab at her. Sending the young woman reeling backwards and falling back to the ground. Laughing nervously and a little unhinged. “This can’t be real… I’m still high…” Harley mutters, scooting around on the floor as she inspects the rest of the room. There’s all sorts of chemistry equipment, machines, things Lexy would know about, she thinks as she carefully puts test tubes and tissue samples into her satchel. Before coming upon a cabinet that she opens up.

Jackpot. 

There’s all kinds of vials of liquid drugs, pills, powders. There’s a couple labeled with her initials “HFQ” that she plucks out of the cabinet and slips into her bra before something catches her eye. A single vial, the liquid inside is green and the initials on it… Grabbing it, she slips that one into her bra as well with the check she’d gotten from Penguin. There’s a file cabinet, all locked, and she sets to work unlocking it. Focused too hard on the task at hand, she doesn’t hear the heels walking down the stairs to her basement. 

“I can be offered. A very important part of a relationship, I survive when it is true. It starts with an L. What am I?”

Harley freezes, standing up straight and doing her best to adjust her bag so the important stuff is at the bottom. She shakes her head, unable to think of the right answer. 

“Loyalty, Harleen. And unfortunately you’ve broken it. Broken into my house. You know about Kristen now. I was going to make you my most beautiful doll…” Bella walks towards the table and touches the woman’s face. The heart monitors and all the other machines going crazy as the woman starts to panic. “My lovely test subject here was helping me get the process just… right… weren’t you?” She coos, pushing the girls bangs out of her face. “But I’m a merciful woman, my dear Harleen. I’ll let you walk out of here.”

She can’t believe her luck, something whispers to her that she shouldn’t believe her luck. But for now, she’ll play along until she can run for her bike. Left at Kringle’s new building so she wouldn’t have to risk Bella messing with it. “Listen I promise I won’t snitch, you know my backstory, my pa wasn’t much for the law. I know better than to snitch on people.” 

“Oh I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

Something pricks her in the neck once she’s gotten past Bella, and her entire world goes dark as she flops to the ground, unconscious. Bella standing over her and sighing.  

“You truly were a lovely young lady, Harleen. It really is a shame what I have to do with you.”

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The world starts to seep in, cold and went and painful as she finds herself waking up slowly in some disgusting trash filled back alley of Gotham. To some ginger kid gently smacking her cheek. Her world coming more and more into focus and that’s not some kid, that’s some grown man smacking an unconscious woman in an alley. Shoving him away and going for the gun in her waistband, she pulls it on him. Pointing it at him as she slips and slides over the ice. 

“Who the hell are you?!”
“Woah woah there, beautiful! I’m just a friendly passerby, trying to help a young woman in need.”
“Bullshit! No one in this stupid city helps anyone.”
“Come oooon.”
“Okay fine, let’s see how helpful you can be.” Harley turns the safety on the pistol off. “You gotta car?” 
“Yessiree I do!”
“Great, you’re gonna drive me back to my dorm and GCU. And then you’re gonna fuck off.” She says, snatching up her bag. “And no funny shit, got it?”

He grins, a little manic, so she doesn’t let go of the gun for a single second as he walks them back to his car. Harley getting in the back so she can easily hold the gun up to his head. Just in case. As they drive he attempts to make small talk and she flexes her fingers around the gun.

“So what does a gorgeous girl like you do to wind up in an alley next to a dumpster?”
“... My girlfriend broke up with me. I… I think. I found her weird murder basement where she’s coming up with drugs and stuff to like, turn people into dolls? Or something? Making them all stiff.” She keeps herself aware of how his fingers seem to twitch and flex around the steering wheel.
“Do you uh… do you think that you could freeze someone’s face a certain way?”
“I dunno, I just stole some of her shit. I was gonna have my roomie analyze it.”
“... Can I talk to… her? Him? Them?”
“Her. And I guess? But make it fuckin’ quick it’s way past curfew for guests.”

They’re quiet for the rest of the trip back to her dorm, making sure that she still had some of the samples she’d managed to steal before sneaking him in. She’s got a few, not a lot but a few, the vials she’d stuffed in her bra are still there. As well as the check, thankfully. Creeping through the halls of the GCU dorms with him and knocking on the door to her dorm room. Her roommate opens the door, throwing her arms around Harley and giving her cheek a huge kiss.

“Harls! Are you okay?! Did you get the stuff?” 
“Yeah, yeah I got the stuff. Crazy bitch drugged me and threw me in an alley. But she misjudged the dosage, probably cause she’s been fuckin’ with me for so long.” 

Lex smiles and gives her another tight hug before noticing the guy she’s snuck in with her. Eyes going wide she pulls both of them in the dorm room before closing and locking it. 

“Harley, who is this guy?”
“That’s uh, that’s a good question actually. He was curious about you results about the chemicals. So what’s your name, ginger?”
His face splits into that unhinged but oddly charming grin again. Goddamn, she really does have a weakness for redheads, huh? “I’m so glad you asked.” He laughs a little. 

“The name’s Jerome, it’s nice to meet you, ladies. I get the feeling we're going to be great friends.”

Chapter Text

Oswald and Edward sit across from each other awkwardly for the second time, Oswald regretted having such a long break in between visits. Compensating by sending Edward care packages when he could. A sweater and some biscuits, the recipe dug out of the book of recipes his mother had given him. More puzzle books, a box that was solved with almost shocking ease. Oswald may have nervously put way too much into the explanation of why he’d picked the recipe he picked until he ran out of words and they both looked down at the table. He clears his throat and sets the wrapped gift on the table, pushing it over to Ed. Who opens it with exacting preciseness, revealing the box within.

“Another puzzle box?”

“I put more care into picking one out this time. Handmade, custom. Less…”
“Plastic gears?”

They both laugh a little bit and Edward runs his fingers over the wood of the box, before picking it up and getting to work. Both men quiet as Oswald is enraptured with Edward working, the other man laser focused on the task. It takes Ed only slightly longer this time, Oz holding his smile back as it opens before he lets the smile slip over his face. Sure, neither had really hid the fact that they’re both intelligent. It’s not like Edward hid anything about himself. But there’s something about watching the man complete the puzzle that’s rewarding for him. 

“How are things coming with Fish?” Ed asks, a little nervous for the answer as he examines the machinations of the box. Fascinated and fiddling with the pieces. 
“It’s… coming. I think I’ll be able to funnel the support I’ve been getting, weirdly enough, into my goals.”
“And what about getting me out of here?”
“We have to get certain bad actors ousted first, but we’re working towards it. Despite most of this being to spite her, Kris is still an invaluable resource.”

They lapse into silence, Edward’s hands on the table, glancing over at Oswald every few minutes. The two sitting awkwardly until a guard comes over and tells them that Oz needs to leave for the day. Both of them standing, Ed swallows, looking nervously over at him. “Before you go… Can-” He cuts himself off but it’s quite apparent what he wants to ask for as he fidgets and looks down to Oswald’s parted lips before averting his eyes entirely. “Nevermind.” He mumbles and it prompts Oz of what that young intern had told him.

“Edward, before I depart, our young friend… she told me that… well it seems almost a little preposterous, as she doesn’t truly know us, but… She mentioned that it seemed as though you had genuinely developed feelings. Which, if that is the case, is entirely fine. I would never mock or demean you for such a thing. It’s simply that…” Oswald pauses to think of how to word his statement. “As your friend I would hate it if I was putting you in a painful position by continuing our fictitious romance.”

Terror flits across Edward’s face for just a moment before he’s laughing, incredulous and perhaps a bit too much. “I- no of course not! Not- not that you aren’t deserving of love, or- or anything, or that I haven’t valued our time together as friends and as casual lovers. I have, of course I have, all our dinners and rendezvous’s. They’re… they’re treasured memories with a friend.” Edward’s smile isn’t that really fake one where he seems like he hates everyone. But it’s certainly not fully genuine either and they both know it. Oswald also smiling back tightly. 

“Of course. What was it that you wanted to ask for, old friend?”
Edward glances at his lips again before looking to the side. “Would it be okay if I had a hug? There’s not a lot of comforting physical touch in this place, it’s all… unnerving.”

Oz frowns, aware of what that’s like and nods, leaning his cane on the table to open his arms for the tight embrace Ed folds him into. Squeezing tightly and if Oswald didn’t know better, Ed was smelling him as well. Which… was simply another idiosyncrasy of Ed’s and something he can’t blame him for going back to. Arkham did smell like piss and old blood on a good day. It goes on a little longer than it probably should have, a guard approaching them and Edward almost seems depressed when he has to rip himself away from Oswald. 

“Not too much longer, Ozzie?”
“Not too much longer, promise.” 

The hopeful and adoring smile on Ed’s face as he’s put back in the shackles is almost heartbreaking, and Oz takes his leave as soon as they have Edward out of the common area and down the hall. 

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And then all that business with Barnes and Fish Mooney happens, he wonders if it’s the best decision to let her go free but that’ll be an issue for him to deal with if it comes up again. Right now he has a promise to keep, and six months is hardly ‘not too much longer’ and the guilt is eating him up on the inside. But announcing that he intended to run for mayor (and fully intends to win as well) should be able to give him the power and clout needed to talk whatever new spineless wimp they put in place to replace Strange into letting Edward go. For now he’s distracted from his work by the sound of heels on hardwood and carpet, and a familiar voice in an unfamiliar tone ordering everyone out of the parlor of the Van Dahl manor. Before he’s looking up at Kristen. 

“Mayor, Oswald? You?”
“What, don’t think I can do it?”
“Oh I think you’ll do splendidly, my friend. But I hadn’t expected you to go straight this far.”
“Not to worry, I am still attracted to Edward.”
“Oh good I was worried.” She responds sarcastically. “So does this have anything to do with this ‘proper’ job you’ve been hinting at?” Kristen crosses her arms. “I’m hardly the political type. And your reputation is currently high enough that a fake relationship with me to seem more appealing would hardly help.”
  

It’d also be more fake relationships than he’d care to be juggling, he thinks to himself as he spins a binder around to show her. “That. Is the entirety of the Gotham City Archives. Once I am elected Mayor, it’s essentially at my discretion as to whom I want doing what.”
“The archives? You wouldn’t want me doing the numbers or something, cooking the books?”
“That was a thought I had, but I recalled something Jim Gordon had said once. That Gotham was so corrupt that all the greatest hitmen and other criminals would have their files kept on hand both at the GCPD and the city archives.” He grins, wickedly. It wouldn’t even take a genius to figure out what his angle is. 

“... You want me to catalog every possible person of use to you, don’t you?” Kristen says as she flips back and forth between the scant few photos of the rooms in the binder, studying them the same way he’d watched Edward study the mechanics of the puzzle box. “It would also give me direct access to anything that could be used against anyone… You want an extension of our arrangement back in school.  Where I can provide dirt at a moment's notice.” She’s not displeased at the idea, which is good. 
“It would also put you in a position of knowing who would be best to call for what.”

A smile slides across Kristen’s face and she flips the binder closed, pushing it back to Oswald. “Keep Nygma out of my organization systems and you’ve got a deal.”
“I’ve got a job in mind for him, don’t you worry.” Oswald says, stepping around the table and going for his suit jacket and cane over by the door jam. “Now. I have a meeting with the new head of Arkham Asylum, I was in the middle of sorting out which people would need to be paid off for what.”
“You’re pretty popular, is that necessary?” 
“Couldn’t hurt, I have my father’s entire fortune at my fingertips.” 
“Does it have to be your father’s money?” Kristen asks, after her wardrobe upgrade, there was still a rather large sum of money that was just sitting in her savings. She was never going to use it for whatever her father had in mind for his ‘successor’. And while she knows who’d use it for its intended purpose…  Oswald turns and gives her an odd look. 
“I wasn’t aware the GCPD paid that well.”
“I have some savings, distant wealthy relatives. Good at bookkeeping, that sort of thing.” She responds lightly, going through the things on the table and locating the information needed to manage the payoffs. 
“Hm. Well, I suppose it really doesn’t matter where the money comes from, at the end of the day. So do as you see fit.”
“I shall.” She says, looking over the list of other’s helping with the campaign, eyes lingering on the name Butch Gilzean. Kristen looks up to try and ask Oswald about that, only to be met with the sound of the front door. Well she’ll just have to worry about that some other time.  

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Edward looks at the certificate in his hand, turning it around and looking up at the Asylum’s new director. 
“I’m sane?”
“Absolutely! One hundred percent! Examined you myself!”
“You put me in a room with an intern who made me solve a crossword puzzle and tell her about my childhood.”
“And she’s a brilliant young woman, isn’t she? I can confirm that her examination was accurate.”
“The murders?”
“Committed while you were insane.”
“And now I’m-”
“Sane! And not responsible for any of the acts perpetrated during your sickness.” He moves to shut the gate, and Edward puts a hand out to stop him. 
“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but how did-”

He’s interrupted by the sound of wheels crunching on gravel, turning and watching a limo pull up and Oswald pop his head out of the window. “Nevermind.” Ed doesn’t bother to look back at the man and turns all the way around, strolling towards the limo as Oswald slips back into the vehicle. Mentally, Edward keeps telling himself to not immediately jump Oz the second he gets in the limousine. Despite the time, his unfortunately picture perfect memory kept shoving their conversation to the forefront of his brain. Sliding into the car and smiling over at Oz.

“Oswald…”
“Edward, it’s been far too long my friend. I- I do apologize, I know the last time we spoke in person I said it’d only be a little bit more time-”
“No, no it’s okay.” Ed says, holding up a hand. “What costs nothing but is worth everything, weighs nothing, but can last a lifetime, that one person can’t own, but two people can share?”
A momentary look of fear passes over Oswald’s face before he smiles and laughs, nervously, giving a little shrug and Edward realizes how the riddle sounds to Oswald. “Sorry that probably-” He clears his throat. “Friendship, the answer is friendship. You haven’t given me much reason to doubt you as of yet. Other than the reputation you’ve had, but even then you’ve treated me much better than anyone else in your life, I presume.” 

“A fair and accurate assumption.” 

The two of them hesitate, looking at each other, there’s a certain level of physical affection the two had gotten used to over the course of their friendship. Though with Edward’s own burgeoning feelings and Oswald’s suspicions, it felt like the two were hovering around each other. And he hopes he can pass it off as awkwardness after not indulging in their casual relationship for some time. Speaking of….

“Also I… I’ve missed you. It’s a bit embarrassing, but engaging in our little… arrangement has made me realize just how much I’ve craved the touch of another person.” Edward hesitates, creeping his hand over the center of the seats, brushing his hand against Oswald’s. “I know you’ve got ambitions for office, and a sordid relationship with a known insane criminal-”

He’s cut off by Oswald kissing him and climbing into his lap. Edward would be a fool to think that this is the sudden development of feelings, but none the less he wraps his arms around Oswald’s slim waist. “You’re so skinny…” He mumbles into the kiss and laughs a little. “Still, somehow.”
“Being me is stressful, it’s hard to put on weight.” Oswald half whines back before it’s being swallowed up into more kisses. It’s intoxicating to Edward, the little touches, just how touch starved he’s been his entire life only coming to light over his time in Arkham. Oswald’s hands settling at cupping his cheeks and jaw in a way he could almost convince himself is loving. He aches for more, but not wanting to strip themselves in the limo. 
“Please tell me we’re going someplace private?”
“Does my father’s manor count?”
“I would hope your father isn’t there when we get there.”
There’s a laugh that Edward would swear is almost melancholy. “I wish the opposite, in all fairness, I’d only known him a short time before I lost him.” He murmurs against Edward’s lips, Ed pouring his condolences into a tender kiss. “My apologies.”
“It’s not your fault, and I assure you the culprits were dealt with.” 

“Just what I’d expect of you.” 

Edward would struggle to put their next few moments into words, should he be asked in the future. Oswald rests his forehead against Edward’s and sighs, shaking his head a little. Running one hand over Edward’s cheek and jaw, humming softly. He gets the sense that Oswald has been thinking about certain things in the wake of the untimely loss of both of his parents. Edward presses a soft kiss to his cheek, Oswald seeming to slump against him, arms around Edward’s shoulders and his face hidden in Ed’s neck. Turning his head, he presses a second kiss, this time to Oswald’s temple, a hand coming up to rest at the back of his head, stroking through his lover’s hair. Though he suppose he should curb those thoughts, lest he slip up in public.  

“It’s nice to have you back, Edward.” He murmurs into Edward’s neck, and he’s content to hold the man until they get back to the Van Dahl manor. 

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Oswald is pleased to find Kristen and all the rest have left for the evening, not wanting… whatever is happening between him and Ed to be witnessed in anyways. Not out of of any sort of shame, he just wants this to be kept private as he unlocks the front door to the great manor and gesturing Edward in. The latter looked around at the front hall. Oswald admits it’s rather ostentatiously decorated, but he’s loath to discard anything in the manor since his father’s passing. Pausing in front of the portrait of Elijah he’d had commissioned to hang in the hall amongst the other pictures. Ed comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Edward’s shoulders.

“Is this him?”

Oswald hums in response, staring up at it feeling the melancholy of everything seeping into him. His heart throbbing a little. 

“I think they’d have liked you, Ed. Sometimes I think about what you’ve told me about your parents and I wish you could have met them.”
Edward leans down a bit more and presses his lips to his cheek. “You know… we don’t have to do anything tonight? I would be just as content to sleep in bed with you, to be perfectly honest.”

Oswald thinks to himself for a bit before shaking his head. He’d rather be taken out of his own head tonight, all things considered. Running one of his own hands over Edward’s he thinks to himself, coming to a decision.

“I wish to be taken apart, as it were.”
“Like you do for me?” 

He’s quiet but the request is understood. 

“What would you like from me, then?”
“Let’s move away from in front of a portrait of my father first.”
“Understandable.”

He leads his friend up the stairs and to the bedroom he’d made his home in. It’s not the main bedroom, he doesn’t feel ready to take that over just yet, but the room he’s chosen is still to his tastes. Standing himself in front of the mirror, he inspects his appearance as Edward comes up behind him again. Asking if they’re using their usual safeword, and Oswald agrees that that would be best, still standing in front of the mirror, unsure of if he should ask for what he wants. Though he does appreciate Edward taking the ‘take him apart’ part of everything literally for the time being, reaching around his shoulders once more. Though instead of simply embracing him, he mutters for Oswald to hold still as those long fingers make work of his necktie, sliding it from around his neck and putting it away properly. To Oswald’s pleasure. Once again Edward’s hands are working on the buttons of his jacket and waistcoat, before button after button of his dress shirt comes undone and is untucked from his pants. 

The undershirt merely shoved up to give access to his skin, Edward taking the time to trace scars of old wounds, sliding under Oz’s pecs for just a moment but not lingering as one hand rested just in the middle of his chest. The other tracing down and down until he’s toying with the belt and fastenings of Oswald’s pants before they’re undone swiftly. Oz enraptured as Ed’s hand slip into his pants, sliding down lower to cup him through his undergarments, delicately rubbing with light enough pressure to give him just the taste of sensation, but nothing close to pleasurable. Still after so long without Edward’s hands on him, it’s intoxicating.  

Those fingers tease him for a good while, light sensations through the fabric of his undergarments are almost torturous. The hand on his chest warm and almost grounding as he watches Ed in the mirror, the taller man’s eyes are dark and heavily lidded as he watches himself touch Oz. Glancing down at the hand on his chest his breath catches in his chest and he bites his lip.

“Could I… perchance make a request?”
“You could.”
Oswald hesitates. “You know how you have that fondness for knives?” He thinks to himself. “I… would like if you’d choke me.”
Edward almost startles a little, thinking about it as he looks at the hand on his chest and up to Oswald’s eyes in the mirror. “I… you trust me?”
“... I do, Ed.” 

The hand slid down his pants shifts, sliding under the waistband of his underwear and rubbing at the damp folds of his sex. Ed’s other hand hesitating before sliding slowly up his chest over his shoved up undershirt before he pauses, almost unsure about the request as he draws maddening circles around Oz’s cock. 

“If you’re unsure-”
“Just… thinking.”

Then the hand slides up, tightening around his neck as he tilts his head back, allowing Edward to get a good grasp. The other hand sliding between his legs, one slender finger slipping into his hole. Still teasing, that seems to be favored by Ed, the hand around his neck isn’t squeezing too hard just yet as the finger inside him slides in and out. Rubbing at the front wall of his insides, making him squirm until Ed adds in a second finger, his grip on Oswald’s throat tightening. The slight stretch is all that more enticing as he’s fingered, a third finger is inserted and the pace is delightful, the man stroking his insides in a way that tightens the hot coil in his abdomen. The hand tightens even further, fully restricting his breath finally and it’s a glorious sensation. So long has he been denying himself this feeling, out of what fear? He wonders, not being able to remember why exactly it was that had kept him from indulging in this hidden kink of his. 

Cold, soulless eyes burrow into his as he’s strangled. “I’ll kill you, you stupid bitch. This sweater was designer and you’ve ripped it! Over a stupid rabbit!”

Oswald’s heart stutters, panicked in his chest and his writhing becomes thrashing as he claws at Edward’s hand around his neck. Though both of his hands are quickly removed from his person and he sucks in a great breath. Shaking his head.

“Oswald I’m so sorry, I- Did I hurt you? Do you need anything?”

His hole throbs with need between his legs but he can’t think about it right now as he runs his hands over his face. Swallowing, he shakes his head. “No… No… It’s not your fault Edward.” He goes over to the man and cups his face, bringing him down for a kiss.  “It’s fine, I just- old memories I hadn’t thought about in ages. I can’t imagine why they’d…” Oswald shakes his head. “Let’s set aside the more… extreme side of our entanglement for tonight, shall we?” He says, pressing another kiss to Edward’s lips. “You can still have the reins, as much as one can in a more vanilla scenario.” 

Edward hesitates, as though he was going to ask about the memory, instead deciding against it. Pressing Oswald back against the mirror behind him and lifting him. Pinning him against the fixture with his hips and kissing him breathless. Sliding his fingers back into his dripping hole and stroking once more. Oswald content to let himself be taken by Edward fully, allowing the man control for the night. Wrapping arms and legs around Ed, their clothes barely an issue aside from them having to shift from the mirror to remove Oz’s pants and briefs. Edward shoving his pants and boxers down only enough to be able to get his cock into Oswald, it’s awkward and clunky but in a different way. And Ed growls, pulling back and turning to deposit him onto his bed.  

Entering Oz again the pace is quick but not brutal, rolling his hips in a practiced way, Oswald’s heart swelling with pride that he’s achieved his goal in some measure. Ed a delight in bed, knowing what Oswald likes, he thinks as lips make contact with his neck and clavicle, nipping at it and leaving marks. Exacting in their placement to avoid detection by others. Detail oriented to almost a fault and soon enough that heated coil is winding itself up once again. As though he’d never been ripped from his arousal to begin with, clutching tight to Edward. Curling tighter and tighter until all at one it snaps, Oswald gasping and moaning, trembling as he clings tight to Edward. Face crushed into the other man’s neck as he lets out a strangled groan, cumming inside Oswald. The mess won’t be fun to deal with, he thinks, but the sensation was still quite delightful. 

Several hot wet kisses are pressed to the side of his face and down to his chin on Edward’s part as they come down from their high. 

“Was that what you were looking for, Edward?” He asks, breathlessly. 
“Mmm… It was delightful, Oz. Thank you.” Ed murmurs, smiling as Oz slides his hands into the other man’s hair.  “I do have, a quick question… are we telling Kristen we’re no longer together or…?”
“No, I’ve already told her to keep things quiet about our ‘relationship’, so it shouldn’t be any trouble.” 

Edward smiles and nods, clambering off of him and they both strip, choosing to stay nude rather than fiddle with sleep clothes. Climbing back into bed, Edward tugs him close and he chuckles, his hands running up and down Ed’s back. Firmly ignoring, for the time being, the delightful way Edward’s hand felt on his neck. And the small bud of tender warmth making its way into his heart and taking root. 

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Oswald had been pleasantly surprised in the morning to find Edward had shooed his housekeeper from the house for the morning to make breakfast himself. It was a little silly, in a way, to see the man with an apron over his nice clothes with his professionally slicked back hair. More confident in his actions, truly he thinks that Arkham and there has made them both a bit stronger in the long run. Perhaps he should get them framed, he thinks. Would Edward appreciate that?

He walks into the kitchen, leaning on the marble of the island in the center. Watching Ed work before the man turns around and sets a cup of tea in front of him.

“I know you prefer tea over coffee. I do apologize, I can’t quite recall how you take it though.” 

They both know it’s a lie, Edward could very easily recall how he took he tea, the man just wants to watch Oz’s hands as he smoothly fixes his tea. He doesn’t think too hard about it, it would mean admitting that there was a real romance starting to bud between them. And he can’t entertain those thoughts at the moment, not until he’s managed to secure his position as Mayor in charge of Gotham. He sips the tea as Edward turns back around, studying him. As he’d thought the first time they’d met, he never thought that this man would be his type. But as he looks at Ed’s lean form in that perfectly tailored vest and pants, he cuts a handsome figure once freed from the shackles of having to pretend to be someone else at his former job at the GCPD. Oswald opens his mouth to say as much, without the more flowery thoughts that have been floating through his mind when the front door bangs open. The sound of heels on the marble of the front hall informing him that Kristen has arrived at the manor before she enters the kitchen, making the beeline for the coffee maker. Grabbing a mug and pouring herself a cup then draining it.

She’s in her same clothes from the day before, hair and make-up mussed, her suit jacket over her arm as she takes swallow after swallow of what must be the hottest brew. 

“Rough night?”
“I’ve insured we can use Ms. Kean’s club for the party, whether or not that’s to celebrate or to get absolutely plastered out of our minds.”
“Doesn’t explain why you look a sorry state.” Edward says, that tight lipped smile Oswald has found himself growing oddly fond of plastered on his face. Kristen glares back at him. 
“Well, after she agreed, she asked if I’d like to have a drink. To which I said yes.”
Edward turns to look at Oswald, a genuine grin on his face as his eyes glint wickedly. “She’d always get so tongue tied when Babs used to visit our friend at the police station.”

Oswald hums, not in the least surprised by that information. Entertained by their back and forth. 

“Anyways, one drink turned into a few more.”
“You should examine your relationship with alcohol.”
“So. I wound up sleeping with her and with um… Tabitha Galavan.”
There’s a muffled laugh and a slight clang as Edward jostles the frying pan. It’s annoying certainly, and Oswald is less than pleased with this but he’s far from unaware how Barbara can act.
“I assume she’s taking that in lieu of payment for using her club?”
Kristen nods wordlessly and he sighs. “Well, I suppose I can let it slide this time. Be more discerning next time, Kris.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t happen to have any clothes left over from your step-family, would you?”
Oswald pulls out his key ring and slides a key off of it, holding it out. “There should be something in my late step-sisters room that should fit. At the very least make use of the ensuite.”

  
Kristen takes the key and makes her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs to locate the room. Ed turns and slips the eggs out of a pan and onto a plate prepared with some toast, sliding it over to Oswald who picks up his knife and fork. 
“Is it really okay?”
Oswald sighs. “Technically I suppose I should say no, but it has been a great deal of time since I’ve last known her to have been with a woman. And she got out of it alive and we have a venue for a party.” He sticks a bite of eggs in his mouth and chews, considering. “As long as she doesn’t make a habit of it.”

Edward nods, apparently deciding that was reasonable. A shade of his former self peeks through for a moment as he seems to be considering something, before taking up one of Oswald’s hands and kissing the knuckles. “I look forward to enjoying our victory at the Siren’s Club, then. I believe that it’s all but insured.” He smiles, letting go of Oswald’s hand.

Oswald quickly picks up his tea cup and takes a sip, hoping to hide the slight flush to his cheeks. 

Chapter Text

As it turned out it’s incredibly hard to both hide your false relationship and facilitate it in front of the right people at the right time, when any touch you receive from your co-conspirator feels like fire on your skin and makes your heart pound out of your chest. But such was the predicament Oswald and Edward found themselves in while on the campaign as well as back at the manor dealing with Kristen.  It was an easy task at first but Kristen suffered the same keen mind as the pair of them. And it was growing increasingly frequent that she'd catch them acting less like assured long time lovers and two people dancing around the idea of having feelings for each other. It was near maddening to Edward, who was often the one having to field her probing questions with the excuse that 'Ozzie has more important things to do'. Liar, he thinks, sometimes. He's well aware it's because she knows lying and deception are almost like breathing for Oswald and Edward isn't quite there yet. She strolls into his office, all charm and confidence when there's not a gorgeous woman around to fry her brain, is it illegal to hire a gorgeous assistant just to distract a coworker? Unethical certainly. Edward will consider it. 

"You and Ozzie seemed a little tense over dinner last night, is something wrong? Food not up to standard? Lovers quarrel?"

"Nothing of the sort." Edward says as he frowns down at the paperwork he's been studying nearly the entire morning. "What are these discrepancies in donations?"

"Are you sure nothing's going on? You can tell me, swear I won't tell Ozzie."

Does she think he's stupid? "It's nothing, merely some mutual stress." 

"Really? I would think you two would know how to mutually resolve that, Mr. Nygma."

His cheeks heat up, he goes for the kill shot. "I know about the payoffs, Kristen."

It catches her off guard, but not nearly enough, her jaw clenching as she crosses her arms and meets his gaze. "So?"

"He can win this on his own merit, you don't need to grease the wheels for him." 

"It's an insurance policy." She shrugs. "None of the money is Oswald's, it's all offshore accounts from some old celebrity no one remembers."

Ed tightens his lips into a curt smile, that 'i hate everyone' smile as he's used to Oz calling it. "Well I had the money returned, with no hard feelings on the part of the recipients." Though he'd never admit it, he let those in the underworld keep their bribes. No need to field assassination attempts. The anger she looks at him with is very satisfying but there's nothing she can do about it now. Sighing, she holds out her hands for the paperwork she needs from him, Edward handing it over. 
“Well, whatever happens with that happens.” Kristen pauses at the door for a moment before turning back to Edward. “I hope things get better for you and Ozzie after the election. I know we have our differences but… you make the one friend I have happy so we’re unfortunately stuck with each other. And even if you were a little odd in how you went about it, I do appreciate the concern you’d have for me back at the GCPD.”
Edward laughs, good naturedly if a little bothered by the bribes. “Thank you, I hope things can get better too. I also continue to apologize, I know I don’t always act appropriately, it’s… an ongoing issue.” He laughs a little, trying to make light of the insecurity that had it’s tightest chokehold on him. Though considering her well-wishes… Perhaps if things go exceptionally well with the election, he’ll tell Oswald how he really feels about him. 

If he can muster the courage from his newly unlocked confidence.  

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The night of the election, Edward is doing his best to keep Oswald at least somewhat off the edge of a tantrum while they wait for the results to come in. He excuses himself for a moment to go and grab a couple glasses of wine for them to share as they sit in a small alcove of the venue. Approaching, he sits at the chair opposite of Oswald and holds the glass out with what he hopes is a comforting smile. 

“I know you’ll win Oswald. The people of Gotham love you.” I love you. He mentally bites his tongue to keep from saying it.

He takes it and sips it, sighing and leaning back in the chair, gesturing to the other one which Edward hastily sinks into. Slightly glad for the general mulling and commotion that prevents the majority of the people in attendance from seeing just how easy it was for Oz to get him to do anything. The pair sits like that, sipping their wine and observing the crowds. 

“Do you really think that, Ed? I know I’ve made a good show or showing that I’ve ‘turned over a new leaf’ but still, the thoughts linger in my mind that perhaps my efforts weren’t good enough. The people of Gotham certainly wouldn’t be wrong in thinking I’m still the person I was previously. But there’s always the concern, with a deception of this scale…”
“You deceived both Don Falcone, Don Malroni, and Fish. This is like a children’s game.”
Oswald smiles weakly and even worried, Ed thinks he’s beautiful to look at. “Your unwavering belief in me is admirable, my friend.”
Ed’s next words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, his free hand reaching over to rest on Oz’s. “I’ll always believe in you Oswald, even when you don’t believe in yourself.”

He almost swears the man's eyes go a little wider and his cheeks light up before he takes a healthy sip of his drink. Ed is about to continue when the sound of heels that are slowly becoming the bane of his very existence approach and they both look up at Kristen who’s eying Ed coolly, his stomach twisting itself up into more knots than it was when it was just him and Oz talking to each other. She then turns slightly to address Oswald directly. 
“Oswald, I have some… disconcerting news about some of our,” She pauses, looking over at Edward again. “Donations.”
“Well… that certainly doesn’t sound good.” Ed mutters, hand slipping off Oswald’s to white knuckle the arm of his chair. 
“Yes.” She says, shaking her head and tutting. “I was reviewing my finances, and it would appear a great deal of the money has been returned to my account. Considering all the options, I did some digging, all discreet so as to not alert anyone of course. And I have reason to believe it’s our friend Mr. Gilzean who’s responsible.”

Edward freezes in place, hardly able to believe what Kristen is saying. He was convinced she would snitch on him, if only to get at him for a few negging comments he’s made over the course of the week about her illicit liaison with Ms. Kean and Ms. Galavan. So it’s a pleasant surprise but not one he had been expecting. It certainly threw a wrench into his own carefully laid out plans to prove to Oz that Butch was far from trustworthy. Unaware that he had an ally in this venture so close. Perhaps now he won’t have to put as much trust into someone as enigmatic as Zsasz. Certainly a useful ally to have, but Ed hated that he couldn’t figure out what was going on in the guy's head.  Looking from Kristen over to Oz he watches as he sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Well. That’s not necessarily surprising. Nothing we can do about that this late in the game.”
He’d been hoping to save it but… “Oz. I can’t be bought but I can be stolen with a glance, I’m worthless to one but priceless to two, what am I?”
Oswald looks for a moment like he’s going to snap at Edward for the riddle before his face softens. “Is it love, Ed? Are you going to remind me again that the citizens love me?”
“I would hope to not be so predictable but… yes.”
Oswald huffs out a meager laugh. “Thank you, Ed. I suppose we’ll have to figure out what to do about Butch. After the election though.” Someone in the crowd calls to Oswald and he sighs, standing and collecting up his cane. “I’ll be back.” The glass of wine is handed off to Kristen. “You kids behave yourselves.” 

They both watch Oswald disappear into he crowd before Edward looks over to Kristen, who doesn't look back, sipping the abandoned wine casually. 

"You lied." A statement not an accusation.

"I did."

"Why?"

Kristen sighs. "I may not have the highest opinion of you, Mr. Nygma, but I know you have Ozzie's best interest at heart. I don't trust Butch Gilzean with getting eggs from the store, much less anything to do with Oswald."  

“We’re in agreement on something then, I also do not trust Butch, considering his response. Neither did Oswald.”
“Mm, I propose a truce of sorts, Edward. We both have similar goals, we’re both getting something out of him being Mayor, we’re both not in positions where betraying him is even an option in our minds, so what if we worked together to fully oust Butch?”
“I can agree to that. I had a plan in mind, it will actually be easier to go through with the plan with your involvement.”
 
Kristen raises an eyebrow and looks him up and down. “Of course you do.” She downs the rest of the glass of wine and sets it down on the table. “Let’s hear it.”

Edward grins. “How well do you know Victor Zsasz?”

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Kristen watches as Oswald presents that stupid victory speech, appointing Edward his Chief of Staff, it occurs to her then that that would probably be a conflict of interest. Or nepotism. One of those options if the people of Gotham knew about their entanglement. In addition to not wanting to test the limits of Gotham’s lack of prejudice towards those of differing lifestyle choices. It didn’t explain the awkward aura that had surrounded them once Edward had been released from Arkham. If there was one thing Kristen knew about Nygma, it was how he acted when he had a crush on someone, and while there is a decent amount more confidence to it. And much more effort to conceal his feelings, there’s a lot of actions that are eerily familiar to her in watching her friend interact with his lover. Sipping at the glass of whiskey in her hand, Nygma’s jab that she should probably examine her reliance on alcohol rattling in her head, she turns her attention to matters that won’t unravel the entirety of her reality in the last year or so.  

Butch. 

Looking over at the man, he’s predictably bothered. Not only was Nygma not ousted when the man tried to turn everything on him, all of which was true, of course, but it was amusing to watch Butch not understand the depth of Ozzie’s loyalty to those he loves in the wake of Oswald actually winning the election. Kristen observing from her own corner of the room, amused. Now he stands in the doorway, looking angry and jealous of Nygma’s new position. Good, she thinks to herself. Downing the rest of her whiskey and setting the glass on the tray of a passing server. Turning and heading out of the manor, swinging her keys around her finger. She’s got a lot of work to do with that god awful records room at city hall before she can even start on getting the information needed together.  

The next week or so is spent getting things in order before the party at The Sirens club. And once there it’s a matter of locating Barbara to ask her where Tabitha is and… distracting her. Sure Nygma told her she didn’t have to sleep with the woman, but it’s still a bit nerve wracking as she clears her throat when she walks up to Babs.  

“Ms. Kean-”
“KRISSY! Oh how have you been? I heard you’re getting on just fine working for our fine feathered friend.”
“Yes, it’s much nicer that the records annex at the GCPD. Though a lot less organized. I really do have my work cut out for me.” They both laugh in that god-awful small talk manner. 
“I’m sure you do, do you want anything to drink?”
“Oh no, I’m fine. I was actually looking for Tabitha?”
The smile that spreads over Barbara’s face is only slightly nerve wracking. “Oh… She’s something isn’t she?” She chuckles. “She’s in the kitchen, just have her home by morning, okay beautiful?” Babs winks and gestures in the direction of the kitchen.

Kristen thanked her quickly and made her way to the kitchen. Slipping in and doing her best to quietly creepy up behind Tabitha and cover her eyes from behind. Predictably the woman turns, a weapon in hand, Kristen smiling and holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Surprise! I was hoping I’d see you again. Sorry for startling you.”

Tabitha exhales and puts the knife down, shaking her head. “Ms. Kringle. If you were so damn pretty there’d be hard steel in your ribcage right now.”
She laughs, trying to keep her nerves out of it. “I have that effect on women.”
There’s a sparkle in her eyes. “You do… I’m surprised actually, Babs said you were always quiet and bookish. But you’re interesting. Not like that riddler guy. Or whatever. Babs said he was a freak and by god is he.”

Kristen muses on that term for a moment, riddler, it makes her think about how that intern called him Mr. Riddles. It was oddly fitting, if goofy as hell. Not to mention she agrees with Tabitha's sentiment. "He's an odd duck, that's for sure." 

“Yeah, Babs would always say he’s got a thing for you, but seeing how he acts around Penguin… that guy wants Cobblepot’s cock in his ass if it’s not there already.”
Kristen actually has to hold back a laugh at that. She fails and holds a hand over her mouth as she giggles. It’s the most ridiculous thing she’s heard in a while and Kristen shakes her head. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s true he does act like that. I’ve just never thought to look at it that way and it’s really funny.” 

Both of them giggle about it a little more, sharing little stories back and forth of the weird things they’ve noticed in Gotham. It’s oddly pleasant, despite the person she’s talking to. Tabitha hands her a glass of… something and she sips it, pleasantly surprised to find out it’s just plain lemonade. “I figured you wouldn’t necessarily want a repeat of last time, you have this air of just wanting someone who isn’t a criminal or an oddball to talk to.” 
Kristen partially hates how that hits home, maybe she should see about adopting a new dog. She felt bad about giving up her old one so soon, but she couldn’t take the poor dear with her when she left town. It had served her well while she had it around, as far as she knew. They wind up having a relatively normal conversation, and this was easier than she thought it’d be all things considered. Half expecting to having to fend off Ms. Galavan with a weapon of some kind like a lesbian wrangler. Though she supposes that’s what she’s doing anyways. They talk a while longer before the scheduled commotion starts to go down in the main section of the club. The sound of the gun with the blanks going off and Kristen manages to keep Tabitha in the kitchen for just the few more minutes needed. Citing concern for their safety, before there’s more commotion and she can’t keep her in the kitchen any longer without it being suspicious and she follows her out. 

Just in time to see Butch stand and toss Zsasz over the bar, lunging towards the stage and managing to get Nygma in a choke hold. People rush from the club in a panic and something catches her eye, a shock of blonde hair that’s most certainly not Barbara and it sends her into a bit of a panic. Why every time her life is going well… she dashes out of the club and looks around before going to her car, determined to chase after her suspicions. She refuses to let her good fortune slip through her fingers once more. Unaware of her tunnel vision until her cell phone ringing knocks her out of it. She picks it up with a shaky hand.

“Where are you?! Are you okay?” Oswald’s still slightly panicked voice comes through. Nygma must be okay. Or at least alive.
“I- I’m fine I- thought I saw something suspicious. So I went after it, I apologize for not informing you but it- You were busy.”
There was a long period of silence. “Just be careful, I’m looking after Ed at the manor.”
“Got it, I’ll be careful, I promise.” 

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Oswald feels a little sheepish for how he’d hollered his staff out of the manor when he got back to it with Ed, getting him out of his tie and shirt to inspect the damage left by Butch. There was also a hot pang of unneeded jealousy at the bruise forming on Ed’s throat. If anyone was going to leave bruises like that on Edward it was him and it was going to be accompanied by an ecstasy the man had not previously known prior. But this wasn’t the time for his oddly obscene thoughts of jealousy, as he shakily rifles through the large collection of tea his father had amassed over the years. Pulling out a familiar box of ginger tea, his heart throbbing a little in his chest as he reads the Hungarian on one side of it before shaking himself out of his melancholic reverie. Instead choosing to focus on how Elijah had still found little ways to include his mother in his life as he puts the kettle on and thinks about how he was so close to losing Ed. 

Running his hands over his face, he knows he’s going to have to face his growing feelings for the other man eventually. There’s only so much of a lid he can keep on his own emotions. It’s really never been his strong suit, and as his affection for the man grows it’s going to be harder and harder to conceal. Not to mention his long standing suspicions that Ed’s feelings started as a crush so long ago, the risk of exposing that raw nerve ending is minimal, statistically. And it brings minimal relief to think that that’s very much how Edward would put it. Mostly due to the fact that very nearly, had he not acted, he would not have heard Ed put anything like that ever again. Sure, as charming as the riddles and random facts are, they could get a little grating, and he was a little weird, but all that was part of the appeal of Edward Nygma. He was also thoughtful in a strange way. If his understanding of the night’s events is correct. The kettle whistling pulls him from his thoughts, and he pulls a cup and saucer from the cabinet and pours the tea and adds the honey to it before shutting the stovetop off and carefully making his way to the sitting room where he’d set Ed up. 

Pausing for a moment at the doorway to watch Edward in the light of the fire, clad in his dressing gown. He thinks Ed looks good in his clothes as he walks over carefully, being mindful of his limp and the hot tea. Holding it out to Edward who takes it with a measured but genuinely touched smile and turns it in his hands as Oswald takes a seat next to him. 
“It’s ginger tea with honey, it’s my mother’s cure for a sore throat.” He glances at the bruise on Ed’s throat, his heart clenching as he thinks about how it must pain Edward. “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?” Oswald’s voice is softer than he’d wanted it to be. But the sentiment was not a false one. 

“No, I'm fine.” Edward responds, coughing slightly as he sips the tea.
“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me what you were doing.”
“Your shock… had to be genuine. The people had to believe it, and they did. And once again.” Edward reaches out to rest a hand on Oz’s. “You’re the city's hero.” Edward smiles like he’s made people see Oz how he sees Oz, and perhaps that’s true for him. Oswald couldn’t say one way or the other. 
“But you were almost killed…”
“And you saved me!” 
 
Oswald swallows thickly as Edward coughs again, considering everything. Sure it makes him look good but at the cost of losing someone precious to him. 

“I hope you know, Oswald, that I would do anything for you.” Oswald freezes for a moment, his heart slamming against his rib cage. “You can always count on me.” 

He’s still for a few more moments, that lid is rattling, near violently. A omen of things about to boil over and he can’t help himself entirely as he leans in and kisses Edward. It’s not anywhere close to their first time kissing but it still feels different somehow as he pulls back and Edward follows a little, hesitating as their eyes meet. Flicking back and forth as they try to pull something from each other’s eyes before Oswald is leaning back in again. The two meet in another, more heated, kiss. Their actions become more and more frenzied as Ed gathers Oz into his arms and it’s a different, thrilling, side of Edward as he takes a bit of initiative as the kisses grow even more heated. Oswald undoing the tie of the dressing gown to slide his hands underneath and run his hands over Ed’s heated skin through his undershirt. Pushing back against Ed until they’re both laid on the couch, Oz drapes himself over the other man as hands travel down to palm and grope at his ass. 

They break apart for a moment, panting as they catch their breath and Edward leans in, whispering hoarsely in his ear that he wants to taste him. And he can’t think of anything he’d want more, it’s frankly what the man deserves after having the air squeezed out of his lungs and he pleads for Ed to make good on that. Ed’s attempt to flip them going a little awry and they tumble off the couch to the floor, Oswald giggling as Edward asks if he’s okay and he responds with a kiss and an insistence that Edward get on with it as those gorgeous hands pluck at his bow tie and undo the myriad of buttons keeping Ed’s hands from worshiping inch after inch of creamy skin with hands and lips and teeth. 

It’s a dance they’ve done many times before but it feels different, there’s none of the insistence of Oswald’s dominance coloring the situation. Just Ed’s desire to worship and truly taste the man beneath him as he continues lower and lower. Tongue tracing his ribs and teeth sinking into the small roll of soft fat on Oz’s stomach. Something he’d never seen the value in but didn’t hate enough to put in the effort to get rid of. But at the mercy of someone who’s declared their devotion to him, he figures that it’s something to be treasured. His stomach flutters as Ed kisses it over and over as he works Edward’s pants open, lips going lower and lower as he slowly pulls his pants and undergarments. That hot wet mouth reaches the top of his pubic mound before Edward is scrambling up his body, pulling his underwear and pants with him perhaps a little too roughly as he smushes Oswald against his chest. Oz, confused, looks over Ed’s shoulder only to lock eyes with a rather horrified looking Kristen. His cheeks immediately heating up as his hands grip the back of the dressing gown. Mortified at being caught. 

“Well… I’m glad you two have worked out… whatever was keeping you from whatever this is.”
Ed clears his throat. “Did- did that suspicious thing go anywhere?”
“No, but this sure did. I’m going to leave you two to it.”

With that she’s turning on her heel. Calling out that she’s glad Ed is doing okay before there’s the sound of the manor door shutting. And Edward goes limp.

“Oh dear. I would greatly enjoy it if I burst into flames right now…” Edward mutters. 
Oswald laughs shakily and pats Edwards back. “At least wait until you finish the job you started.” 
Edward lifts himself  up to look Oswald in the eyes. “You still want me to do that?”
“After what you’ve been through this evening, you deserve that taste of me you so desperately crave.” He grins wickedly. Ed returns the grin and leans down to peck Oswald on the lips before shedding the dressing gown and getting back to work.

Chapter Text

 It’s quiet in the field she’s decided to lay herself out in, staring at the sky as she waits for her friend's arrival. Nothing but the sound of the tall grass and leaves rustling in the wind, closing her eyes for a few moments and just allowing herself to exist as Kristen becomes aware of the sound of footsteps approaching. Growing closer and closer to her spot until they stop by her head and she opens her eyes only to squeeze them shut again as blood drips on her face.

“Ugh. Wipe your nose, Ozzie.”
“Fiiiine.”
 

He stands up and turns before sitting down and laying on his back along with her. The top of their heads almost touching, there's the slight sound of Ozzie pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket. They’re both quiet for a while longer, watching the clouds pass by. Eventually their little ritual has to start, neither knowing how or when it started, as anything kids did habitually happened. It’s just a matter of who’s going to break that seal, whether Ozzie asks or she starts talking, but she’s all nerves as she tries to pluck up the courage to bring up her thoughts. Fortunately Ozzie breaks the ice for her.

“So… what’s up? Why’d you want to come out here?”
“... I’ve been thinking a lot lately, listening to you talk about the guys you like. The kind of messed up stuff you do to try to get them.” Ozzie giggles, the things that make him happy are weird. But it’s not like she’s any better, at least in her opinion. “So I was thinking about that girl in my class-”
“The one you’re always staring at and can’t talk around?”
Kristen chews her cheeks. “Yeah. Well, I think I feel the same way about her that you feel about that guy whose girlfriend you pushed down the stairs last week.”
“Oh Jacob?” There’s a moment of quiet. “So you’re saying you like girls?”
“I- I suppose I am. Not that I’m like, in love with you or anything. Uh. Not that people shouldn’t be in love with you. Just, y’know, this won’t get weird or anything is what I mean.”

Ozzie is quiet for a long time after she says that, at the time, she had no idea why. But with hindsight it was understandable when he abruptly stood and started walking towards the river. Having said her piece, she stands up and turns to follow him a few steps behind.

“So… you’re okay with it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You're still my friend, you just like girls.”
“That just feels like it was way too easy.”
“I see all kinds of stuff when I wait for my mom at the club she works at, girls kissing other girls just feels normal at this point. You’re my best friend Krissy, it doesn’t matter to me who you like.” He spins, walking backwards a few steps and grinning wickedly. “I’m still gonna cut them if they hurt you, no matter if they’re a girl or a guy.” 
 

Ozzie turns back around and bolts as she starts chasing him, laughing as she protests his rather violent overtures towards suitors that don’t even exist yet. It’s odd, how she’s presented with all manner of bizarre and unsettling things in her day to day life as she figures out her father’s games and puzzles, and yet Oswald’s particular brand of violent madness never seems to bother her. She wonders if it’s because there’s an earnestness to it, he doesn’t play games about what he is. Oswald eventually stops, at the edge of the river bank and she finally manages to catch up. Looking down at the riverside and recoiling in horror.

There’s a corpse on the bank, washed up and half out of the water, bloated, rotting, it’s obvious that the person’s throat was cut. She takes a few steps back, tripping over a root and falling back with a little thump. Should they go get the cops? Any kind of adult? Swallowing thickly, it feels like the warm spring day has turned ice cold. On the other hand, Ozzie moves, jumping down from the little ledge and sliding down the bank to the corpse. Ozzie rests a foot on the corpse’s shoulder with a little squelch and Kristen feels herself gag at the sound. Then he gives the thing one solid push with his foot, and the corpse is dislodged and is caught by the current again. Despite her horror and disgust, she still dutifully holds out a hand to help Ozzie up the riverbank. The pair walk silently out of the field to where they’ve stored their bikes.

They never speak of it again, but it gets written down, detail for detail, in the notebook she keeps in the locked drawer of her desk. 

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A weird weight feels like it's been lifted from Ed's head, despite the residual issues with swallowing and the occasional cough, he's suffered no ill effects other than the disquieting knowledge that Kristen is extremely good at hiding bruises with make-up. He doesn't press and she doesn't elaborate, Oswald giving him icy looks during the process as though Edward is going to lose all sense of decency. They'd be disheartening if they didn't soften the second Kristen states that he's all set for the day, and Oz tilts Ed's head this way and that to inspect her sure to be flawless work. Working through it in his head, he relates the release of tension to him expressing how he feels to Oswald in some slight manner. It certainly wasn’t a confession of love, though one would think otherwise if they’d seen how Oz reacted, but it was in no small part how he felt about the whole thing.  

He’d do anything for Oswald. Perhaps the man would be amenable to renegotiating the terms of their fake relationship. Pulling out his personal notebook he jots down that he’d like to ask that of Oswald, shutting it and tucking into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Checking his watch, it’s late, incredibly late. He’s a little taken aback at how long he’s been working, and figures it’s time to get himself back to the manor and eat something before retiring to bed. The fatigue is hitting him now that he’s realized what time it is. Perhaps if Oz is still up, he’ll ask if they could share a bed, like they had when Oswald was hurt and being nursed back to health, he thinks as he gathers up his belongings and fathers his coat from its hook. Edward is halfway to the door when his desk phone rings. Sighing, he turns back and goes to his desk, wishing he had the ability to ignore a call but for all he knows it could be an important call. Sighing, he picks up the phone and puts it to his ear.
 
“You’ve reached the office of the mayor’s Chief-of-Staff, unfortunately I am about to-”

“Eddie!”
His words get caught in his throat and he almost chokes on them, ironically enough. “M-mother.” He scrambles for words as he mentally tries to figure out how she got this number, how she’s managed to contact him. The most plausible explanation is that one of the many public servants at city hall had given out the number and extension unknowingly. “What are- why are you calling?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing, I heard you’re working for the mayor now? Really moving up from that dingy forensics lab huh?”
Shaking his head before slipping his glasses off and setting them on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let me rephrase, mother. What do you want?”

There’s silence for a while and he wonders if by some miracle she’s hung up and decided he’s a lost cause. At least until she talks again. “You should come visit. Come see your sister and brothers.”
Brothers. Of course they had more kids, poor Irish, Catholic trash. He’s aware he’s putting himself in that category by placing his family there, but it’s hard to have a charitable thought about them. His sister though… Ed had seen her on and off before he cut off his family completely. 
“You had more kids?”
She doesn’t respond and keeps barrelling on. This time with her second favorite thing to nag Edward about. “I also worry your time is running out to find a nice young lady and settle down. You have a good job now, I’m sure women in Gotham are just dying to be with you.” No. Not even slightly. “There’s a few nice ladies in our new neighborhood who’d just love to meet you.”

She then, to his immense chagrin as he feels a headache start to form, goes for the drawer he keeps aspirin and a few other basic medications as he fields every question she has about his non-existent dating life. Mentioning a few of the ladies in the neighborhood here and there, listing their qualities that Ed might like. Rubbing his forehead, he sighs and thinks to himself that if it was an option either of them wanted he’d just ask Oswald if he’d pop out a kid for Edward to thrust at his mother to get him to leave her alone. But despite potential arguments for and against his relative mental stability, he’d die before he asked anyone that, forget about asking Oz.

“There’s actually a lovely young lady, the daughter of some of our new neighbors, oh you’d adore her, Edward! Quiet, smart, she adores those puzzles you’ve always liked. You still enjoy those, right? Anyways, you should come out this weekend and meet her-”
 

His brain is fried and he feels like he’s a little kid again, backed into a corner and desperate. Edward hates this feeling and he’d do anything to avoid the catastrophe that would be having dinner with his family and some random woman who’s presumably trying to find herself a husband. Having to pretend he’s not a murderer, not desperately in love with his best friend, essentially going back to who he was before all this. But most of all there’s still the knots of fear that twist in his gut when he thinks about facing his father. The stress and exhaustion get to him and he snaps. 

“I’m seeing someone! A man!”

It’s said in a fit of annoyance and anger, and instantly, he regrets what he’d said. Knowing that neither he nor Oswald had wanted to involve family in whatever this was. Immediately his mother starts squealing and demanding details. Though what catches Edward’s attention is the sound of someone on the other end of the line scoffing and standing, heels on a wood floor and a door slamming shut.

“Did you have me on speakerphone?”

Predictably she doesn’t answer, ignoring this obvious breach of what he assumed was a private phone call. Still demanding answers. He doesn’t have them for her as she asks them, her voice is almost a ringing in his ears, not even words as the seriousness of what he’s said really starts to sink in.

“We’ll see you two on Sunday then!”

There’s a sense of finality in her tone as she finally,  finally hangs up. And he’s dug himself a hole, no matter what he does, if he calls her back or anything. She’s not going to answer, and he knows that her acceptance of his supposed choice of partner is only surface level to get him to visit. There’s no talking himself out of this. At the forefront of his mind is how disappointed and potentially angry Oswald is going to be with him for breaking their agreement. 

What if he’s fired? What if he’s not able to see Oswald ever again? This feels somehow like not a big deal but also a monumental betrayal to him. Hating how talking to either of his parents felt like it undid any progress he’d made within himself. Breathing heavily he sinks to the floor as he breaks out into a cold sweat and sinks further to the floor. Gripping the edge of the desk like a lifeline.

“Oh dear.”

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It’s late when Kristen finally gets her work done and the files all sorted out, now all that’s left is delivering them around for the next day. Simple enough she thinks as she pulls on her coat and slings her purse over her shoulder before gathering the files up into her arms, strolling through city hall and dropping off folders as needed, the biggest stack going to Nygma. A mix of dossiers on various Gotham criminals she’d compiled as well as some other less interesting files, compiled by the previous records keeper. Finally it’s time for her last stop, Nygma’s office. It truly wasn’t on purpose, she tells herself as she heads towards his office, there’s a light on and her brow furrows. Surely she would have expected him to have gone home by now?  

Kristen tries the doorknob, finding it unlocked and opens it slowly, more than aware of what happened the last time she’d entered a room unawares. Fortunately no one’s in an intimate embrace though what she finds is slightly more alarming, Edward is sat against the side of his desk, curled up with his head between his knees, breathing heavily with his hands laced at the back of his neck. Rushing over and resting the files on the desk she crouches next to him. Not putting her hands on him just yet, hesitating for a moment.

“Edward?! Are you okay?”
“No. I…” His breathing is shaky and she’s aware that he’s having a panic attack or something of the sort. Though she can’t imagine what happened to cause something like this. “I’ll be fine. Just go home.”
Well that won’t do. She’s not going to leave him here all night. Oz would throw a fit. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go get you a glass of water and a snack. You’re going to eat something, and then you’re going to lay down in the middle of the room okay?”
At the very least it gets him lifting his head up and looking at her. “... Why?”
“Just trust me, okay? It…” She thinks about it for a moment. “Just do it. It’ll help. I promise.” 

Edward studies her a few more minutes before he nods in agreement and uncurls himself, reaching up behind himself to feel around for his glasses as she sighs and sheds her purse and coat. Her work tonight clearly isn’t finished as she fishes her phone and wallet out of her purse.  

KK: Nygma and I will be working late. 
KK: Not for any sordid reason, I walked into his office to drop off some files and he was having some kind of anxious fit.
OCC: Is he okay?
KK: Physically yes, mentally I’m not sure he ever was.
OCC: Kristen.
KK: He’ll be fine, I’m getting him water and a snack. I’ll bring him back. 
 

Snapping the device closed, she heads down to the vending machines, getting a bottle of water and a couple snacks for Edward before she plunks a few spare coins into the coffee machine to get herself a hot chocolate. Oswald hadn’t mentioned anything, only offering concern for Nygma, so whatever’s going on with him isn’t Ozzie related. Shaking her head, she grabs the cup once the drink is finished dispensing and makes her way back to his office, he’s already laid flat in the middle of his office, glasses off again and his arms over his eyes. Sighing shakily as she sets the water and snacks next to him as she pulls her hair out of her ponytail and kicks her heels off. Laying down on the floor, heads almost touching.

“Why are you having a panic attack in your office, respectfully I would have figured you’re over that period in your life.” 
There’s only the sound of Edward picking up the water bottle to fiddle with. 

“So. You’re going to be really mad at me.”

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Edward really doesn’t know what possessed him to admit the whole thing to Kristen but it’s all spilling out faster than he can get control of his words. Feeling as though he could trust her after they worked together to successfully remove Butch from the equation, even if it did end in a rather uncomfortable encounter for him. His hand idly running over the still concealed, healing bruises on his neck. 

“-so of course I find myself falling in love with him, and now everything’s messy. I’m pretty sure he feels the same way but telling him or asking about it means having to potentially face that I’ve just… deluded myself into this.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “But the worst part is I violated the terms of our initial agreement-” 

“I wouldn’t consider that the WORST part of all of this really.
“For you perhaps, I can’t think of anything worse than having to face my father now that he’ll think he’s right about his boy being ‘soft’. To avoid any harsher terms.”
“Apologies, I’ll let you finish.”

Edward pouts and keeps going. “My mother called, it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. She’s always been good at picking at me and getting under my skin. So she’s listing all these women and rattling off their qualities like they’re cattle or something. Trying to get me to visit, so I just… spit out that I have a partner and he’s a man. I don’t know what I was thinking, I wasn’t thinking. I suppose I just really wanted her to disown me and tell me to never contact her ever again. Which I was already doing. ” He sighs and runs his hand over his forehead. “And Oswald and I didn’t want to involve parents in this little facade. Now I’m convinced he’ll never want to be in my presence ever again outside of a working context.”

Kristen is very quiet for a few moments before she speaks.

“You were right, I’m horribly extremely mad at you. And Oswald too frankly, this whole thing is ridiculous. There’s probably something to be said about not seeing through Ozzie when I caught him in the records room, considering I’m extremely aware of how he can be. But." Kristen sighs. "You really truly love him? You're not lying to me for sympathy?"

He nods as he speaks. "So much it hurts sometimes because he's so good at deceit it almost feels like he feels the same way."

"Considering his actions on the boat, I'd say there's something there. He's always been… well his love language is stabbing, to put it bluntly. I don’t know him well enough these days to know if he’s in love with you, you’re not exactly his type." Kristen sounds like she’s analyzing the scenario. It’s honestly amusing. “Considering what I bore witness to in that sitting room, he definitely likes you.”

Edward huffs out a small laugh. "I'm surprised with how helpful you've been, all things considered." 

"For the longest time all I had was Oswald. Then no one besides whatever terrible man I decided to attempt other people’s idea of normalcy with. And despite the fact that everything I thought was fucking fake. And once again my trust in reality has been destroyed, if it wasn't for this whole ordeal I'd… shit I'd probably wind up strangled to death in some violent weirdos apartment." A hard sigh. “Ozzie deserves someone else in his corner. And he deserves someone who loves him who isn’t some stupid jock. I’m curious to know though, did your father really throw you down the stairs?”

“Mmhmm. He was always yelling about how he didn't believe I was actually that smart, how I had to have cheated something. Never convinced that I had done anything of my own merit when I had, so I started trying to prove how smart I was in any way I could. But nothing worked, I'd get hit or thrown or beaten. So I'd just try harder."
Kristen laughs, it's bitter and hollow. "Good lord. I can't believe we're both the way we are because of our terrible fathers. I'm sorry that that's happened to you, Edward. You are extremely smart, and you deserve to have that appreciated." A pause. "Even if it annoys me so much it makes me feel like my soul is leaving my body." 
He can't help but laugh at that and they eventually lapse into as much of a comfortable silence as the two of them can manage.  

Eventually Kristen sits up and Edward, unsure of everything that’s been happening so far, follows, turning to look at her as she goes to work gathering her coat and purse again. “I’ll drive you back to the manor, it’s way too late to make you wait for a cab.”
“What should I do about this?” He’s ashamed of the desperation in his voice.

“Be honest with him about the mistake, and your emotions. Perhaps not all at once, try navigating dinner with your parents before we move on to impassioned confessions of love. He values loyalty and humility. Or humiliation. Pick one.” Kristen sighs and rubs a hand over her face. “I need a day off, I’m taking the weekend, can you let Oz know?” 

“Someone should be having fun. Yes I can let him know.” Ed mumbles as he gets himself together.

Sticking the snacks in his pockets, they’ll get stowed away in his room somewhere. The drive is tense on both sides, a part of him hopes that Oswald is asleep when he gets in and there’s a stay of execution on having to tell Oz about his mistake. But there’s relief in confession, he thinks as he’s let out at the manor. Remembering the times in his youth where he’d run to the church in a different neighborhood to do confession instead of risking his father finding out somehow. It had felt good to talk to someone at least, even if a priest was still more judgmental than someone who understood. It wasn’t someone who was going to get him hurt. Shaking thoughts of his childhood and family from his head, he makes his way up the drive as Kristen pulls away. He’d requested this when he saw the lights still on. Wanting some time to formulate what he was going to say as he walked up the drive, having noticed the lights were still wrong. 

Making his way into the manor he sheds his coat and hangs it up, Olga having long since gone to bed and Oswald probably already getting in bed himself. An assumption that proves to be false when the man in question makes his way out of the kitchen with a mug of hot cocoa that’s held out to Edward.

“Kristen let me know you’d be late getting back.” He says, concern lacing his voice. “Are you okay?”
Edward bites his lip. “I… had a distressing conversation with my mother that I need to discuss with you. Though I’d understand if it’s a bit late.” He says as he takes the mug from Oswald and smiles down at it, reminded of the other night when he’d been strangled. 
“No no, I have time to listen to you, Eddie.” Oswald gives the man’s arm a little squeeze.

Biting his lip he gestures into the sitting room and they make their way over. He keeps the part where he told Kristen about their little relationship scheme to himself, it’s not going to become an issue as far as he can tell. And it’s not pertinent to the story. “I’ve… made a grave mistake, in an effort to get my mother to finally leave me alone for good, I told her we were together. Not in so many words, I told her I had a partner who was a man. Instead of disowning me as I’d wished, she invited both of us to dinner still. I’m incredibly sorry, Oswald. I know that’s against the terms of our agreement for this charade, but it was a moment where I wasn’t thinking. Believe it or not. My mother has a way of… getting under people’s skin and making them lose sight of themselves. To put it nicely.”
 
Oswald’s face is somewhat unreadable, all things considered. If he had to pick out emotions ‘disappointed’ was one, but it was somehow mixed with a meter of sympathy. A hand reaches out and rests on his forearm, Oz giving it a little squeeze. “I will admit this does throw a bit of a wrench in things. And I’m not… thrilled at the idea of having dinner with your family, I’m quite sure it’ll end in some level of violence against them.” Edward thinks he’d enjoy seeing that quite a lot. “Though perhaps if the mayor shows up at their doorstep as their son’s lover it’ll humble them and violence won’t be necessary.” 
“You’re taking this much better than I expected.”

Oswald considers things for a moment, looking Edward up and down appraisingly as he thinks about his response.

“I appreciate that you didn’t try to hide this from me. And you brought this to my attention as quickly as possible. Yes, you broke the agreement but you didn’t try to hide anything from me. Thank you.”
Edward’s heart swells and he almost opens his mouth to tell Oswald everything, but thinks better of it. One thing at a time. Though he does remember what Kristen had asked of him.
“Oh also Kristen asked if she could have the weekend off as compensation for dealing with me.”
Oswald laughs a little at that, shaking his head. “Granted. I swear you two could be siblings sometimes with how you two act around each other. I can’t understand why the two of you are so at odds.”
Ed shrugs despite knowing why. It’s not his place to tell after all. “Oh you know, we’re just too similar.” 

Oswald smiles softly and gives his arm a little squeeze. “Let’s get to bed, Ed.”
“Could I- Is it okay if I slept in your bed tonight? I’m not expecting anything too intimate, just some physical comfort.” 
“Of course, anything you’d like.”

Edward smiles, the weekend is going to be immensely stressful for them, but for now he’s going to enjoy what peace he can before then. Truthfully though, he’s very curious what kind of woman would be so interested in him she’d sit with his mother silently on speakerphone while she talked to him. For some reason, it leaves a sour taste in his mouth and a modicum of uncertainty twisting his insides. 

Chapter Text

Oswald stares out the window as they drive through the neighborhood that housed the works for Gotham’s Industrial Corridor, large factories and plants in the distance with great expanses and lots separating them from the housing. Children running around the large areas. They pass by one area, Oswald watching as what appears to be a young girl is kicking another child curled up on the ground before she bolts. What is presumably the child’s friends going after her as she tears across the field. He’s impressed honestly as she scales a fence and disappears amongst some buildings before Edward is turning and they’re entering what is clearly a suburb dipped in a coat of shiny paint to make it seem more appealing than the lower income housing. Make the mid to upper-mid level management feel that little bit more superior than the peons on the factory floors slaving away. 

Oswald’s lip twitches, despite his lofty tastes, goals and ambitions, he still has a bit of sympathy left in him for the working man. His mother had slaved away at several jobs, some of them a similar rank to the jobs the people in this area would hold. He has somewhat of an idea of what he’s getting himself into, that the family he’s going to encounter is not the kind of blue collar that’s slaving away to make a better life for themselves or their family. Edward has not said much, or almost anything, about his family. But what he has said has left Oswald feeling quite uncharitable about them. 

Sooner than Oswald would like, all things considered, Edward is parking the car. A little ways down, going by the house numbers. Nerves enter the equation, despite all his bravado and reassurances he’s given Edward, Oswald is still not sure about any of this. Not for any particular reason relating to their little arrangement or what have you. But because there’s still the fact that this is unknown territory. Stories are stories but this is about to get very real. 

“Here let me go… set expectations, I hope you don’t mind?”
“I appreciate that.”

Oswald says as he relaxes back in the seat as Edward leaves the car and heads for the door. Standing there for a long time and he almost gets out of the car to go provide support before the door opens and he almost sinks down into the seat to avoid detection but whomever opened the door, Ed’s mother he assumes, doesn’t even bother to look at the car. He sighs and rubs his forehead waiting for a while until Edd comes out on what appears to be rather shaky legs. Opening the door for Oswald.

“Are you alright?”
“No, and I suspect I won’t be until we’ve finished this.”

Glancing towards the door to make sure no one is watching before sliding a hand over Edward’s cheek and giving him a little kiss to the corner of his mouth. He knows it’ll most likely translate as an empty gesture but it doesn’t hurt to try. 

“Listen, we’ll get through this. It’s just dinner.”

Edward sighs shakily, it’s clear he doesn’t believe that’s true but it’s not going to stop Oswald from supporting his friend through all of this. Sliding the hand down to his upper arm, giving his bicep a little squeeze before they make their way up to the house. Invited in by the sickeningly sweet fake hospitality of Mrs. Nashton. The home is what he’d expect of a family like Edward’s, family photos and religious epithets everywhere, a notion he quickly abandoned early on. She pretends to care when he introduces himself and asks what he does for a living. And… really? Is she so dim?

“Well, I was a businessman previously. But now I run the city.” He says with no small amount of a smug attitude. Not bothering to hide himself behind a veneer of attempting to make or play nice with his lover’s family. 
“Oh goodness, where ARE my manners, of course!”

  
Though he does fight the urge to roll his eyes as she showers him with empty praise for the work he’s done already. Not attributing anything to Edward even when he mentions how he wouldn’t have been so successful without the help of her eldest son. Despite it being a futile effort he still does his best to try and plead Edward’s case as they talk until something, he’s not entirely sure what, sets Edward off arguing with his mother. 

It’s not particularly vitriolic but it’s not anything he’s keen to listen to for very long, excusing himself more politely than he’d really intended for the situation. Making his way out of the home for a few moments. Grateful he’s remembered to bring the slim cigarette case with him. Slipping one out of the case he pats his pockets only to be frustrated that he’s managed to forget the other, rather important half of this combo. Scowling and deciding to head down to the car to see if he’d left the lighter in there.

This proves a fruitless endeavor and he’s left even more annoyed than he was before but doesn’t re-enter the home just yet, sitting out front on the steps with the cigarette hanging from his lips as he listens to the yelling inside. The fight has escalated as far as he can hear, leaving Oswald wondering if this was a common occurrence for Edward in his youth before his mother supposedly ran off, leaving him with his pig of a father. He thinks it’s the cruelest twist of irony that Ed’s cruel and unloving parents get to live on to torment their son, whereas his were taken from him. It doesn’t serve him at all to think about what things could have been like if Ed had been able to meet his parents, but nonetheless it’s a far more pleasant reality to let himself drift off to while he draws together the strength to not hotwire Edward’s car and get himself out of there.  

It’s in this momentary escape from reality when someone walks up to him, filthy tattered sneakers coming into his field of view before a hand is extended with a cheap instant lighter in it. Oswald, not as startled as he’d expected he’d have been, looking up into the narrowed eyes of a teenager with a startling resemblance to Edward. It takes him a moment to realize she’s not feeling him out but simply squinting at him as he takes the lighter and gratefully lights the cigarette in his mouth.  Pocketing the lighter as he can’t imagine her walking into the house with that would lessen any tension that’s going on. Only to be amused rather than frustrated when she simply pulls another from her pocket.

“What are you, an arsonist?”

“No more an arsonist than you are a changed man, Mr. Mayor.” Her smile is crooked. “Why are you out here?”
“Would you rather be in there?”
The girl listens for a few moments to the ruckus inside before shrugging. “Probably not, but it might be nice to see Edweird finally growing some balls.”
Oz lets the insulting nickname fly over his head, but only for her, she’s a teenager and presumably Edward’s younger sister. “Shouldn’t you be inside working on… oh I don’t know, homework or chores or whatever it is your parents give you so they don’t have to actually parent you?”

“That would imply that as a failure and a girl they even care enough to pretend to parent me.” She says, stepping around him with long gangly limbs before heading into the house. Clearly not having much care for the two adults almost screaming at each other in the living room as she walks past them. Oswald stopping in the living room, impressed with the way the two were still going at each other’s throats. Not looking at the girl as he reaches out and rests a hand on Edward’s shoulder. Seemingly snapping him out of the rage he’d been experiencing while unloading on his mother as he turns to look at the shorter man like he’d forgotten he was here. Perhaps he had, Ed’s mind works in odd ways sometimes. 
 

“Well, if you’re done being insolent and ungrateful, I suppose I’ll start dinner.” Mrs. Nashton says as she smooths down her hair and straightens her clothes. Heading into the kitchen. “Shoo, you unhelpful brat.”
“Whatever.” The girl exits the kitchen to head for the stairs, pausing with her swiped sandwich, cramming half of it in her face. “Kinda brave, showing up.”
“I would assume our father has atrophied without me to chase around and beat to keep him in shape.” Edward responds bitterly. “Haven’t found some unfortunate family to keep you around still?”
“Nope. You and Morticia Addams here wouldn’t be looking to adopt would you?”

“Not monsters like you.” 
“A shame. See ya in four more years, I am not coming back down for dinner.” And she disappears up the stairs and Oswald believes her when she says she’s not coming back down. 
“Don’t mind her too much, Emeline is just like that.”
“No, I'm quite used to sassy young ladies. How are you, dear?” Oswald asks softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 
Edward sighs. “Stressed out. Unhappy. Wishing I was elsewhere.”
“Fair enough. Does your sister usually need glasses like you?”
“Probably, maybe I can look into getting her a couple pairs.”

Oswald nods, running his hand down to Ed’s back as he mutters to himself about the logistics of getting his sister a pair of glasses. He can relate to wishing he was elsewhere. Oswald offers to let Edward take some time to himself as he does his best to verbally spar his family, more than capable of holding his own. Besides he’s got a knife if he really needs it, having no qualms at this point about killing Ed’s parents. The relief that passes over Edward’s face at the idea makes his heart swell almost overwhelmingly. And he resolves in his mind that he’s going to tell Edward how he feels. Even if it doesn’t wind up reciprocated. But he’s confident about his chances at this point as he takes his seat on the couch and prepares for what is sure to be an interesting conversation. 

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Edward takes the opportunity to wander the house, for a few moments. His father’s car wasn’t in the driveway so for now despite the rather rousing discussion, if one could call it that, he had with his mother is not nearly as detrimental to his mental stability as it could have been. Making his way up the stairs and past the door with blaring rock music behind it labeled ‘Hellspawn Keep Out’, he finds the attic access. Moreso to snoop and see if perhaps his family kept any of his old things. But he’s not all that hopeful he thinks and he clambers up the ladder.  

The attic is what he’d expect really, full of old nick nacks, dusty, smelling of things perhaps better left forgotten but he’s never been the type to leave well enough alone. A trait that’s never served him well he thinks as he locates some of the older relics of the Nashton clan. Pulling open some boxes to rifle through them, perhaps there’s something of his grandmother’s in here, a delightful woman, and his maternal grandmother. His father’s family was just as garbage as he was, but he found solace with her. There’s not too much that’s small enough to steal, but he manages to locate her jewelry box and pray his old man hasn’t pawned any of it. 

Fortunately it seems all her jewelry is intact, wondering if his mother had threatened any number of things to make sure he didn’t sell it. Either way he goes through it, slipping a few of the pieces he remembers her wearing the most into his pockets. Studying a few others until he comes upon her wedding ring set. Staring at them and allowing himself to sink into a fantasy where he actually winds up married to Oswald, after a few more moments he puts the rings in his pocket as well. Looking off into the distance before decided he should go downstairs and suffer through a meal with his family. His only solace being Oswald, his own younger sister not bothering to join them. Something he very much doesn’t blame her for. 

Heading back down, the pair look between each other for a moment as he joins Oswald on the couch. The rest of the evening is predictably awful, he can feel the itching at the edges of his brain as he’s berated and belittled despite the status he’s managed to cultivate for himself all because of the man sitting next to him choosing to be his ‘lover’. Or whatever. He can feel the waves of rage and murderous intent rolling off of Oz and if he wasn’t stuck feeling like he was a kid again as he’s called all sorts of names and insults. Something particularly loathesome is said and Oswald appears to have had enough. Standing and slamming his hands against the table.

“ALRIGHT THAT IS ENOUGH.” Oswald hollers. “I will not sit here and allow my Chief-of-Staff, my friend, my partner to be ridiculed and berated like this.” He leans in, getting right up in Mr. Nasthon’s face. “You and your wife are less than trash and if it weren’t for the young children here I’d be showing you the mercy you deserve, which is none. ”  

Oswald rests his hand on Edward’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze, an affectionate warmth fanning out from the touch. His heart fluttering in his chest at the sensation. The affection that Oswald shows him in their day to day life, even when they’re not masquerading as a couple, has been a delight. More than he feels like he deserves in his life and he swallows.  

“Edward and I will be going now. I’d ask you to rethink your treatment of this fine gentleman, but you’re about twenty seven years too late.” 

Oswald hooks his hand under Edward’s bicep and he hauls him up out of his seat and drags them out of the house, Ed still a little stupefied over the entire experience until they get out of the house and are walking over to the car.

“Unbelievable, just the most absolutely intolerant unpleasant bastard I’ve ever met and I’ve been a career criminal since I was nineteen.” He fumes, almost snarling as he lets go of Edward’s arms and sighs, pacing back and forth a little as Edward looks at him. Thinking to himself that for all his fawning over Kristen and over the couple other crushes he’s had in his life, he’s never felt anything as deep for them as he does for this man. Mentally resolving that even if it doesn’t go anywhere. He’s going to admit the full breadth of his feelings to Oswald, at this point, he worries he might explode if he doesn’t. Oswald takes his hand in his, resting the other over it. 

“Let’s retire to the manor, my friend. Olga has likely gone home by now, but I’m sure I can whip something up for us.”
Edward thinks he likes the idea of that. “It’s been a while since I’ve had your cooking. I think I’d enjoy that.”
Oswald smiles back at him, warm and soft and Edward’s heart throbs in his chest as he goes to open Oswald’s door for him before going around and getting in the car. Driving them back to the manor. It’s admittedly late when they get back and despite the late hour getting to them a little, Ed still diligently waits as Oswald cooks for them. These days something like cooking would almost seem beneath Oz, and in his mind, the task is. Which makes it all the more meaningful to him as a steaming bowl of goulash and a couple of Hungarian sausages are set in front of him. 

“Your mother’s recipe?”
“Sharp man, probably not as good as hers but I think I did a decent job.”
“You could present me a sandwich with cold cuts and I’d have enjoyed it.”

Oswald smiles and looks down almost bashfully, shaking his head a little. “You’re too kind. This is rather reminiscent, isn’t it, of that first dinner we had. Only we’re even more enmeshed. Rather pleasantly so, at least I’d hope?”
Edward smiles. “I’d agree with that sentiment.” They both sit in a comfortable silence as they eat and Ed thinks that he could definitely spend the rest of his life with Oswald, should the man see fit.  

It only steels his resolve to tell Oswald how he feels, hopefully he’ll still be able to have moments like this, even if it goes wrong. There’s just the matter of how and when with their busy schedules. But he’ll find a way, it’s like a puzzle. 

Hopefully nothing throws a wrench into his confession. 

Chapter Text

It was a gorgeous day, despite the rather frustrating and irritating weekend Oswald has had dealing with Edward’s family. Fortunately that was a few days in the past now. And what it had given him, the resolve to tell Edward exactly how he feels, is something he treasured. It was what Edward deserved, it was the least Edward deserved, as the man deserved the world. Pulling on his robe he ties it and makes his way downstairs. Sitting down at the dining table he turns to Olga as she comes in with her tray and starts to serve breakfast. 

“I have decided, Olga, that I cannot live with this charade any longer. My mother had told me once that you only get one true love in life, and you should run towards it.” Oswald pauses a moment. Wondering if perhaps she’d impressed this upon him with regret in her heart over Elijah. But pushes it out of his mind for now. “And that is what I am going to do.” 

Olga nods, and he wonders just how much she understands but it doesn’t matter much as he continues to speak.  

“I will confess the full scope of my feelings to Edward by the end of this week. I will tell him that I have grown tired of this farce, this… rehearsal, if you will. And if he’s agreeable, I would like to put on a full performance.” Oswald picks up his cup of tea and sips it before putting it back down on his saucer with a little flourish. “I will complete this goal even if it kills me.”

“Even if what kills you?” 

Oswald startles and looks over at Kristen, he feels as though his friend is showing up in the mornings looking more and more bedraggled. Perhaps it was a mistake to let her have the archives, as unsure as he had been in the past if it’s really the best idea to enable her rather interesting coping mechanism. But as with the thoughts of his mother he pushes that aside in his mind and shakes his head.

“Oh nothing, just commenting to Olga about the relative complexity of the next plan I have for the city.”
“Ah.” Kristen studies him for a few moments like she didn’t quite believe that. He clears his throat. 
“What brings you here this early in the morning, old friend?”
“Right, yes. I had been working a bit and I think I’ve found a few files that I think might be of particular interest to you.”
“And this couldn’t wait until City Hall?”
“It’s about the other part of your control over the city.” A rather excited and wicked grin spreads over her face and Oswald can’t stop himself from matching it as he gestures to the chair closest to him and instructs Olga to bring her a cup of coffee. 

Their talk goes well and he’s impressed with the work Kristen has done, politely excusing himself after their business is conducted to dress himself and prepare for the day, mind drifting back to Kristen’s disheveled state and briskly heads back to the front hall, asking her if she’d like to freshen up as she looks like she’s had a rough night of it. Frowning when her agreement to that is punctuated by a large yawn. 

“Stay here for the day, Krissy. Get some rest, have a hot meal, take a day for yourself.” He rests a hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “You deserve it, my friend.”
Kristen tries to protest then yawns again. “Well, I suppose I could use that. Thank you, Oswald.”
“Think nothing of it. You’ve done fantastic work so far.”  

They smile at each other before she’s ushered up the stairs, Oswald’s hand hovering over the small of her back. Only slightly worried she might pass out and careen backwards down the stairs, before the two part ways and he sets about making sure he looks his absolute best for the day. Not a hair out of place, tie perfectly settled, he smiles. Confident that by the end of the day, this farce will be very much a reality. 

That is until he’s walking into Edward’s office as one of their many assistants is leaving with a rather suspicious package that he pays no attention to. Aware of who it’s for and what its purpose is. Approaching Ed, he smiles as the man stands and greets him. Commenting on how well the taller man is fitting into his role.

“I… still have so much to learn from you still.”

Oswald falters, the genuine praise from the first man he’s genuinely loved hits him. Making him flush and laugh. Looking down and adjusting his stance, both clearing their throats before Ed admits he couldn’t track down Butch. It’s not a problem, Oswald thinks, they’ll track him down. Ed will track him down, he’s smart enough.

“I’m sorry I let you down.”
Oswald starts. “You’ve done no such thing! I… I would be lost without you, Edward.” He pauses. “In fact, there’s something I need to tell you. Something very important.”

Edward turns to look at him for a few moments. Quiet and expectant, the look of almost childlike interest and curiosity throwing Oswald. His mouth only open a little before he’s prompted again. Opening it wider to hopefully get the words out but eventually he can only manage a nervous laugh.

“You- you know what, I forget! Just right out the window, you know?”
“I- no. That doesn’t happen to me.”
“True. True. And I admire that about you. If I recall it, I’ll let you know.”
The other man hesitates for a few moments, opening his mouth as though to say something before he seems to think better of it. “Is… is it anything that if not revealed would put you or I in any danger, Oz?”

Truthfully, Oswald can’t insure that. For anyone in their line of work love is a risky emotion to feel. But for the sake of what Edward is asking…

“No. It won’t. I-in fact, what say we discuss it over dinner, my friend? I’ll have Olga put together a dinner. Perhaps a nice wine…” Oswald hopes it won’t take nearly till dinner to get it out but it’s a nice safety net. And if he does get the words out, it’ll make for a nice celebration. This does seem to perk Edward up and he nods, pulling out his planner to jot down the note. A formality really, Ed would never forget something this simple. It was a gesture more than anything. 
“It’s a date. So to speak.”
Oswald smiles in return. “So to speak.”

It’s an unfortunate circumstance that Oswald doesn’t manage to get the words out in time by the end of the day. Bidding Edward a temporary farewell when the man excuses himself, assuring he’d pick out just the right wine. 

Oswald can only hope nothing goes wrong from here. 

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Edward sighs to himself, studying the wines, doing his best with the small amount of knowledge of Hungarian he’s accrued to parse the labels. Wanting to make sure the bottle was perfect to accompany what he’d imagined Olga would put together.

“Almost impossible to pick the right wine, huh?”

The voice startles him a little from his thoughts but he answers relatively quickly. Proud of himself as he does so. “Well you have to take the vintage and pairings into account…” He turns his head to look at who’s addressed him. It takes him a moment, however. As he studies the woman. “Um…” 

Ed’s eyebrows twitch inward a little. She’s almost a spitting image of Kristen but… blonde. It’s eerie. It sets him on edge and he looks away to the bottles in his hands. Stuttering a little before he puts one back. “I- i think this one will do. I know someone who can read this label better than I could anyways.” Edward turns away, at least for as long as he could until his urge to know takes over and he turns back around.

“I am so sorry to bother you with this, do you…. Would you happen to have a sister? Or… cousin? This sounds odd. You just look a lot like someone I know.”
“I suppose I do have cousins, but I wouldn’t know who you’re speaking of.” She holds out a hand. “Isabella. I… apologize for interrupting you…”
“Edward.” He avoids shaking her hand, something in his mind putting up a wall. 
“Edward. I don’t normally talk to people like this, keep to myself mostly. Usually my nights are spent with one of these and a crossword puzzle.”
“That does sound like a nice time, well I should really get going. Got someone wait-”
“I’m sure just a few more minutes won’t matter, will it?”

Isabella smiles almost disarmingly and Edward resolves himself to slowly making his way to the front as they converse. Unable to shake that little voice in the back of his head that’s setting off alarm bells. Smiling in a way that he hopes is charming, he nods. 

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Kristen wanders down the stairs, drawn to the dining room by the intoxicatingly delicious smells. She’d slept all day after having the most absolutely splendid shower in one of those fancy bathrooms. Quite happy to indulge in the splendors of what Oswald’s father had left him, or so the man has told her. She hasn’t pushed the issue, not needing any sort of answers from him. Tying the robe around her so as not to scandalize her friend with her nightgown, she turns to the dining room and pauses. Taking in the sight of a rather done up Oswald sitting at the end of a full table. She creeps forward, reaching for an apple on the table and picking it up. The motion catching Oswald’s attention and he startles a little.

“Kristen! I- how was your day?”
“Good, slept most of it.” She glances over the table. “What is this?”
“I’m having dinner with Edward, well, I’m supposed to be that is. He’s… he’s quite late at this point. And I’m not entirely sure what the issue is, he hasn’t picked up his phone. But…” Oswald sighs. “I suppose I can’t keep things from you, Krissy. Please.” He gestures to the chair closest to him and she takes a seat. Leaning in with her brow furrowed. 
 
And everything spills out in a rather funny sense of deja vu, she thinks. Both of these men are so stupid for how smart they are. Kristen staying quiet and listening to her old friend spill his guts figuratively. Tilting her head to the side and reaching out to rest a hand on Oswald’s. 
“I think,” She takes a moment to figure out the best way to word it. “I think  he will accept your feelings, whether he returns them or not. Your chances are good he will, but no matter what I don't think he’ll be dismissive of them.”

This seems to calm Oswald down a little bit and he relaxes back in his chair, tilting his head back and resting his other hand on top of Kristen’s. 

“Thank you, old friend.” A heavy sigh. “I should go look for him.”
Kristen sits up a little straighter. “I’ll go. You should stay here in case he is simply running late.”
“Ah, smart as always.” He pats her hand. “A good plan.”

A smile passes over her face as she stands and heads up the stairs, a nagging worry in the back of her head that something has gone terribly wrong. Hand sliding over the smoothly polished banister of the railing as she goes. Hoping that it’s just a deep worry for her friend's suitor.

However she’s struggling to believe it fully.