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Chapter Text

Oswald had a headache. He couldn't remember anything, except the fact that he had fainted for no reason in his own mansion. Slowly, he tried to come back to his senses and sat up.

When he opened his eyes, the man realized that he was not at home but in a huge white room. There were several closed doors at the four corners of it, all topped by small bright red lights. A powerful computer complex stood in the center of the room, comprising several screens, keyboards and center towers by dozens as well as to ceiling speakers.

His dilated pupils becoming accustomed to the light, the Penguin frowned and noticed three too recognizable figures in the hall. First there was Jim Gordon in his impeccable police uniform, hands resting on his hips while watching an angry Edward Nygma examine the mainframe.
Across the room, a hilaring Jerome Valeska with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall seemed to be enjoying the mere presence of the Penguin in the room. Was it that freak who had captured him? Oswald shook his head realizing that on the one hand he was not attached and on the other, Jim and Ed would have nothing to do here if that were the case.

The sudden noises caused the cop to turn away from the computer to look at the newcomer.

« What’s... can someone explain to me what’s going on ? » Oswald said while he was awkwardly getting up and limping towards him. « Where are we ? How did we get here and especially WHY ? »

Jim opened his mouth for a moment, as if was looking for his words. A broad smile on the face, the redhead spoke first.

«  You missed the explanation, didn’t you ? Who could've believe that the birds were such great sleepers..." he mocked as he examined the small man from top to bottom.

Clenching his fists, the latter did not waste time to feel the anger rising in him. He hated the idea of being drugged to wake up brutally in an unknown room with a psychopate of the worst kind.
During his stay in Arkham, Oswald had learned from the clown that he didn’t like anything about him and that right away, he wouldn’t have the patience to endure his little jokes.

Jerome made some great strides towards him, his smile never weakening. When the two of them were so close that the tip of their shoes could touched each other, the redhead bent over and replied in a whisper :

« Where, I don’t know. How, I don’t know. To fuck each other. »

A long, too long silence followed this statement. Only the tapping of Nygma on the keyboards was resonating in the large empty room.
Thinking it was just a bad joke, Oswald was about to demand the real reasons for their incarceration before Jim spoke.

« When we woke up, the computer and speakers were on. The person who locked us here apparently intends to subject us to some... weird exchanges, I guess ? We’ve had a few hours to digest it, so start to calm down and take the time to- »

Before he finished his sentence, the big screen turned on and the speakers emitted a strident noise that startled the gangster. A deep voice came out :

« Gentlemen, you are now all there ! Gathered to participate in my experience... »
Dropping the idea to understand the strange mechanisms of the computer complex for now, Edward straightened himself by staring at the screen. On it, they could distinguish the very room in which they were. Schematized, small animations accompanied the words of their interlocutor.

« Let me give you a few explanations on the course of the events. One of you will be a "key" that I myself would have the care to designate. That key will be placed on the red circle drawn on the ground. The other three will must stand in front, on the black line located ten meters away. »

The four men looked at the lines on the ground, waiting without enthusiasm for the continuation of the rules.

« The key will then have to choose the "lock" he wants among the other three competitors in front of him. Once this is done, one of the lobby doors will open and both participants will have to follow a list of conditions to be met. The game will be played in three separate rounds. »

Stunned by the situation in which he found himself, Cobblepot was the first to speak :

« And why should we do THAT ? There is absolutely NO obligation for us to participate in your stupid and degrading game !

The voice at the other end of the speaker began to laugh at the boldness of the little bird.

« If you care about the people I hold hostage, you better be docile, my little guinea pigs. »

... Oh shit. Oswald’s face became livid as he thought of Martin. He didn’t care for many people, but if the little boy was in danger, he had no choice. Fear invaded him as he stared at the screen again.
Next to him, Jim clenched his fists so tight that he could have destroy the screen to pieces in a single hit.
As for Nygma, the man pulled his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, frowning in frustration.

« Key and lock, huh ? How subtle... »

Jerome amused himself with the remark, obviously not affected by their situation. Looking directly at the speakers, he raised his voice :

« And the screens ? Don’t tell me that they are only used to make drawings for children ! »

Oswald didn't immediately understand what the redhead was insinuating. But when the mysterious voice returned, he thought he was about to have a heart attack.

« The screens will show the progress of the two competitors in their task. However, theall there sound will be cut. The first event will start in ten minutes, use this time wisely ! »

With a laugh, the voice died and the screen gave way to a threatening red countdown. The game had already begun.
The four men set each other in an awkward silence, punctuated by the "BIP" of the countdown which had already passed a minute. Jim was the one who broke the silence.

« So in addition to forcing us to do what he wants, he wants to turn us into stalkers. » he said with a grin.

« We just don’t have to watch, I guess... » Edward answered by staring at the screen, already uncomfortable in anticipating the first event.

Oswald was silent, fear preventing him from saying anything. He DEFINITELY NOT had the time to digest the news. It couldn’t be real ! What was he doing here ? Why was this man making him do this ? What will happen ?
He hardly swallowed while Jerome was looking at him with a mischievous smile.

« Tell me, Penguy, who'll you pick if you’re the key ? Oh, I hope it’s me. I’d be very flattered, you know... »

Oswald's eyes widened, horrified by what the clown had just told him.

« Wha- No ! I... don’t even dare talk to me ! Why are you asking me this ? I’d rather die than be alone with you for one second ! » he shouted, putting more distance between them.

Jerome cast a wounded false look at him, but his eyes shoned with a dangerous glow. Oswald almost regretted what he had just said, thinking that, given their situation, it was suicidal to make enemies.
Edward cleared his throat, considering their options.

« There are four of us, but the game has only three rounds. Depending on the choices that will be take, one of us may be spared until the end. »

« Great ! » Oswald replied by rolling his eyes, not reassured by the logic demonstration and Olympian calm that the man who had become his worst enemy in spite of himself wanted to show.
The latter frowned as he continued :

« Jim and I have searched every corner of this room and there is no way out. We have no choice but to participate in this game. Revenge will have to wait... but it will be painful. »

The tallest man’s eyes were dark, his expression bored as possible. Jim sighed, crossing his arms and looked at the countdown. Two minutes to go.

« We are running out of time. I think that despite our differences, we're all ready to sacrifice our dignity to save our loved ones. RIGHT ? » the cop said with a stern warning in his voice while waiting for the approval of the other men.

Edward returned him a hateful look, which made Oswald roll his eyes again. The two men obviously had to think of Lee Thompkins. The anger and jealousy that arose in him almost made the small man forget his fear.
Jerome looked bored by the exchange and, as the end of the countdown approached, walked over to the black line on the ground. When the count reached 0, the voice of the stranger came out of the speaker.

« Please take your place on the line alongside Mr. Valeska. »

Jerome made a theatrical gesture towards other men, as if he were an example of civility to follow. Oswald swallowed thinking about what would happen if the redhead had the choice of his partner. No ! Positive thoughts, positive thoughts, that’s not gonna happen...
A few seconds later, the four test subjects were standing on the line, equidistant from each other and waiting more or less nervously for their fate. Suddenly, the mysterious voice was arosing :

« James Gordon, please come forward to the red circle in front of you. »

All eyes turned to the blond. Aware of the glances aimed at him, he advanced a sure step towards the circle, as if he were going to manage the situation with a complete professional manner.
Oswald laughed inwardly at him. Jim couldn’t help but play the good cops who couldn’t take bad decisions to save the widow and the orphan, even in this very special context in which they were all trapped. He was wondering if it was even possible for the man to show himself as he really was, without showing any facade of an agent of authority.
Arrived at the center of the circle, Jim turned to face the other three men. His gaze swept them from left to right : Ed, Oswald, Jerome. Even with that serious look on his face, Oswald could say that he didn’t seem very sure of what he was doing.

« You have one minute from now to choose your lock. You will have to say he's full name. » the voice commanded.

The tension rosed a notch in the room. The countdown had already begun as Jim contracted his jaw looking one by one at the worst criminals he had ever faced too many times. He seemed to be putting the pros and cons in his mind when his gaze lingered a little too long between Jerome and Oswald. Feeling suddendly too vulnerable, the dark haired man turned his attention to Ed for a few seconds.
His smug smile seemed to indicate that he looked absolutely certain that he would not be chosen. The little bird wanted to kill him for this.

Countdown stopped at half when Jim declared almost solemnly :

« Oswald Cobblepot. »

Chapter Text

As he adjusted the straps of his new outfit with difficulty, the Penguin thought about the turn of the events. How did the situation escalate so quickly ?

When Jim said his name, the little bird’s gaze left Ed to focus on the cop. One of the doors of the hall then opened with a crash, the LED turning from red to green above it. Without a word or a look back, they had both gone towards it. The door had closed behind them, leaving them alone in a small red velvet dressing room separated into two parts. Their names were inscribed on each part, prompting them to separate for a short time to change clothes.

Oswald raised his chin to tighten the short white jarot attached to the collar of his shirt. When he entered the cabin, he had hallucinated in front of the dummy wearing such an outfit. It seemed... narrow. The set was both similar to what it usually wore, but also completely different. Understanding that this was part of the game, he had resigned himself to putting it on.

The long-sleeved white shirt he wore was quite commonplace, but the businessman was accustomed to wearing black on a daily basis. Indeed, dark colors allowed to hide the defects of the body as well as to be chic without bringing attention to details.
Also white, his trouser was so tight that his bad leg didn’t even need a splint to stand upright. His black platform boots made him look taller which, to be honest with himself, was surely a positive point of his outfit.
Oswald winced as he buckled his belt. To it were attached dark leather straps which in addition to contrasting with the rest of the light set, undoubtedly drew attention to the most sensual parts of his body. His shoulders, chest, the curvature of his back, his hips, thighs as well as... his ass and crotch. He looked more like a carefully packaged gift than a dangerously renowned criminal.

Since he woke up, the gangster had been caught in a torrent of different emotions fighting to take over. Surprise, fear, disgust... Deep down, he knew the next stage would be anger. Jim Gordon was more than familiar with that mindset when it came to Cobblepot, so he could handle it, right ?
Although he felt his fists clenched, Oswald was not sure he would be able to stand up to his teammate by being dressed in this indecent thing.
After finally being assured that his jet-black hair was about in order, the little man took a deep breath and left the dressing room.

Jim was already ready, waiting leaning against the opposite wall. With his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he stared at the ground like a lost soul in his thoughts.
Unlike him, Gordon was exclusively dressed in black. In fact, the gangster was pretty sure it was the clothes that the man was wearing when he improvised himself as a hit man a few years ago. With his leather jacket, the blondie with the freshly cut beard almost looked like a bad boy that Barbara Kean would appreciate without a doubt.
Moreover, Oswald had never denied that James Gordon had a certain sex appeal as a man. He wasn't too tall, enough muscular, his masculine face was square as well as his light hair were always greatly smoothed back.
His stern expression and deep voice went hand in hand with his sense of justice: so upright that he seemed incapable of harming an innocent man.

Having not shared a single word since they had crossed the door and not knowing what to say to attract his attention, Oswald cleared his throat by crossing his arms on his chest, as a reflex to hide his body.
Jim suddenly raised his head, coming out of his thoughts as his eyelashes beating several times. He seemed ready to speak but his mouth just stayed half-open, a Jameshook on his face.
Yes, Oswald gave a name to one of the policeman’s facial expressions. When he was angry, he often managed to catch the criminal by the lapels of his costume and dangerously bring his face closer to his own, using his size as an advantage in their debates. And Oswald didn’t know if it was because his arguments were disappointing the cop or if it was because of their alarming proximity, but Jim had this habit of looking at the face of the smallest man as if it was something surprising. His eyebrows raising, his clear blue eyes widening like saucers and unable to leave those of Oswald. In general, this provoked an inner laughter at the little bird.
But he wasn’t laughing. Jim’s way of staring at him without a word as if he was clearly leering at him only caused embarrassment and anger that he would soon let go.

« Don’t you dare say anything. » he said with a murderous look at the tallest.

It wasn’t Jim’s style to make fun, but you never can't be too careful.
Taking his hands out of his pockets and gradually recovering his professional attitude, the policeman ends up extending his hand :

« Whatever happens from now on, it stays here. I’m no happier than you to have to satisfy the voyeurism of a new psychopath. So if we could start by making things easier from the start, maybe we could get out of here without too much damage. »

His expression was serious but sincere. After all, they were only humans and wanted the same thing : to escape as quickly as possible from this trap.
Oswald clenched his jaw, half convinced to let his anger fade.

« Jim. I estimate that it's your fault I'm here in front of you in this ridiculous outfit. » He paused and stretched out his arm to squeeze the man’s hand in front of him. « I just wanted you to know that. And that you will definitely owe me a huge fucking favor for this. »

While they shared a handshake, Oswald tended to the idea that it was already a lot for Gordon and him. The few times this gesture had been made, a vicious betrayal had followed and it grieved him. But it was nothing face to what was awaiting him soon.
A wedged half-smile appeared on Jim’s face, looking again at the body of the little bird.

« You think you’re ridiculous ? I would have said charming. »

Oswald rolled his eyes, an obvious sarcasm in his voice as he let go of the commissioner’s hand.

« If you compliment all the women you sleep with in this way, don't be surprised that they go elsewhere, mister good cop. »

James turned to open the next door, a bitter tone on his words.

« Am I that bad that they all want to try to kill me after a relationship ? »

Following him through their next destination, Oswald thought about all of the policeman's exes. Barbara Kean was crazy and Vicky Vale had left him overnight after a short stay in the hospital. As for Lee Thompkins, the pretty nurse had improvised as the leader of the Narrows with an Edward swooning in front of her.
Currently, the two men were all together alone. Perhaps this punishment was a kind of sweet revenge leading them to find themselves after too many emotional disappointments. From the beginning, it seemed that the paths of Jim Gordon and Oswald Cobblepot were destined to cross over and over again.

« I guess we’ll find out soon enough... »

Chapter Text

The room they entered in was full of memories.
The shelves of the bar were decorated with dozens of rainbow-colored bottles put on display, although Cobblepot knew that it was useless to want to get drunk with because of their falesess.
On the black, polished and classy tiles, the square tables and high stools reflected the red tint of the lamps. On either side of the room, curved red velvet walls accompanied the perfectly maintained leather benches.
In front of them, the performance scene where many singers and musicians had performed, hoping to get a job but often leaving with an arm or two broken. The spotlights on the ceiling bathed the performance hall with a hazy scarlet beam, as if it was a waking dream.

« Ring any bells ? » Jim said while quietly going around the bar.

Without answering, Oswald kicked into one of the club chairs. Fish Mooney. That woman and that damn bar where his career had begun. Ironically, he felt no hatred towards her. Perhaps she had really been like a second mother to him, for he had sometimes admired her despite her violence towards him. At least enough for the Penguin to let her live in this forest.

After a quick search of the closets, Jim victoriously took out a bottle of scotch and placed it on the bar counter. Finally turning his eyes towards him, Oswald could not hold back a smirk.

« THAT is cliché. » he said, limping as little as possible to one of the stools nearby.

The blond took out two glasses and gave him an annoyed look :

« As cliché as that is, that’s all I could find. Wouldn’t you want to die of thirst ? »

« I thought you were doing this to get drunk, not to hydrate. »

Jim snorted as if to confirm what he had just said and poured the amber liquid into their glasses.

« I thought we’d need at least that. »

Looking at his own reflection in the transparency of his glass, Oswald felt his heart turn. What do they even do ? The explanations given to him were so vague that part of him still hoped to have been mistaken about this game. Was Jim thinking the same thing ? Was he thinking too much ?

« How did you even end up working here ? »

Oswald blinked, realizing that his glass was no longer empty and that the man in front of him was looking at him attentively. Nervous about the answer he had to give, he answered on the defensive :

« Why do you care ? I just was there, that's all. »

Jim took a sip from his glass, never taking his eyes off him.

« If you’re not more open with me, it’s gonna make things difficult for us, you know. »

He paused, looking down, as if considering his own words.

« I mean, not everyone gets to hold the umbrella of one of the most influential gang leaders in the city. If it was someone of your family, I'll understand... »

Frowning and fingers twitching on the crystal glass, Oswald let a hint of anger flavour his voice.

« She wasn’t my family and I wasn’t just holding her umbrella ! » he grumbled.

Raising his glass and taking a sip, he appreciated the appalling look Jim was throwing at him. The latter wanted to do things right and the fact that the gangster rejected his semblance of kindness seemed a charming revenge against him. How many times have these one-way exchanges taken place in the past ? For Oswald, Commissioner Gordon was the archetype of this person whom you desperately wanted to get close to and get to know but who would not leave you a single opening. Like a grumpy dog that growls as soon as a stranger walks past his house, only women who attracted him seemed to deserve his sympathy.
Well, on second thought, maybe it was a golden opportunity for him.
Jim was inherently good and he would not want to do anything contrary to his code of honour. So getting the little man’s approval for their future " business " was probably a priority for him.

While Jim seemed already about to give up, the gangster rested his glass with a slight tinkling on the marble.

« My mother was alone and not rolling on gold. I... I didn’t want to be a burden to her, so I looked for a job to help her. » Although he wanted to speak more confidently, quoting his late mother made Oswald uncomfortable. « I was a pretty good singer and musician so I ended up doing a performance for Fish Mooney. »

Jim seemed genuinely intrigued by what the other man was telling him, spinning the liquid from his glass by sliding his blue eyes towards the stage.

« I was dancing too. I mean, I guess it was before she broke my leg with a chair. » The tone of the Penguin grew worse as he laid a hand on his bruised knee, probably the greatest work Fish had ever done. « When I came home that night, I would tell my mother how I had run into the bullies from high school who had beaten me up for a bad look. After all, it wasn’t totally a lie... »

Jim’s gaze left the stage to focus on the criminal’s leg. Raising an eyebrow, he seemed doubtful.

« I thought it was from birth. »

« Then you don’t know me. Most of the people I hang out with know about this, and for the record, I haven't always walked like a penguin. » the black haired one answered, the bitter tone.

No doubt the quotation was a necessary trigger for Jim to raise his head with a surprised expression. Then, letting out a sigh of frustration, he took the time to address the subject of their relationship with caution.

« Look, Oswald... I know I haven’t necessarily been fair to you. But my duty comes first. We could never be more than acquaintances because our professional lives oppose us. We’ll never be anything but antagonists and you’ll have to live with it. »

That was not what he wanted to hear. Suddenly putting his feet to the ground and slamming his palms against the edge of the counter, Oswald burst out in black anger :

« So that’s really what you think, Jim ? You, me ! » He made a gesture of the hand between the two of them and raised it in the air as if it had no importance, then resumed in a breath. « No, you and Ed... You’re the sames. Why do things always have to be about your own interests ? I don’t even know why I keep trying to please you, selfish as you ar- »

With a strident whistle, the bottle of scotch exploded into a thousand pieces between the two men who, with an innate reflex, immediately fell to the ground. Someone had came out of nowhere and shot at them without hesitation.
Unlike the cop who was on the other side of the bar, Oswald was totally exposed and grimaced when he saw the one who was interrupting his anger attack.

A black man with a gun in his hand and a funny smile on the corner of his lips seemed amused by the scene. Oswald rose slowly, his body never becoming accustomed to the attempts of murder on his person by surprise over the years. How the mercenary was called, again ? Daishot ? Deadshot ? Deadhunter ? Daiquiri ? Anyway, it was this unbearable man he hired months ago to mess with Jim Gordon. Clearly, the irony of the spell was at its height today.

« What are you fricking doing here ? » he asked with all the annoyance of the world held in one sentence.

The mercenary held him at gunpoint, not without an unsupportably forced laugh.

« Just doing my job ! Are you drinking alone or should I expect a visit ? »

Oswald turned to the counter and noticed that not only were their glasses empty, but especially that Jim was no longer in the hiding place he had occupied until now. Slightly panicked by this realization, he slowly raised his hands in the air in front of the gun pointed at him.
As the mercenary recited a monologue worthy of the typical cliché of the villain, Oswald gradually returned to his own thoughts.
Why did he suddenly feel so vulnerable ? No matter how hard he thought about it, he knew why.
Like it or not, Jim Gordon was the only person still alive and sane with whom he felt safe. No mother, no father, no friend. Of course he’d betrayed him so many times that he could compete with that Ed Nygma moron, but if he was sure of one thing about the cop, it was that he would never go so far as to kill him, no matter what. And that, in a city like Gotham, was worth gold.
James was the angelic figure, the bright white face of a coin of which the Penguin was the dark and Machiavellian lapel. But if they put aside their professional environment, they’d just be Jim and Oswald. Wouldn’t they still be allowed to build a friendship if that were the case ? That’s what Oswald desperately wanted. And that’s what he always wanted. The friendship and safety of the good cop.

An acute resonance made him refocus on the action in front of him. Oh. Apparently Jim had gone around the room hiding behind the tables, then knocked out the mercenary with one of the fake bottles from the bar. Removing his belt from a fluid movement, he was tying their not-so-dangerous enemy against the foot of the stage piano. Oswald frowned, noticing that shards of glass had lodged in the policeman’s right palm, making him wince as he tightened the ties holding their aggregator tighter.

« You're hurt. » the bird said out loud as his arms were slowly descended along his body.

Jim didn’t seem to care when he came back to the bar, probably wanting another drink to forget what shitty town he was working in.

« How did he get in ? I thought we were the only ones locked up here. » he murmured for himself, standing beside the man whom he had just saved.

Before he stretched out his arm for another drink, Oswald stopped him with a gesture of his hand. Then, leaning towards his valid leg, he took a piece of glass to tear a piece of the fabric of his pants.
Jim’s eyes widened, not understanding what he wanted to do with it.

« And me who thought you were shy. » he said while the smaller one standing up with the cloth in hand.

« I am ! » he rolled his eyes, tired of the clumsy flirtation of the blondie. « But you’re not a calf fetishist, are you ? »

Jim could not hold the tremor of a laugh as Oswald delicately wrapped the white cloth around his hand.

« Who knows, maybe you don’t know me. »

Their clear looks crossed for a moment. A few seconds during which neither of them moved, treating irony. Then, realizing the shamelessness of the policeman, Oswald gave him a clumsy kick in his leg, as he had done earlier to one of the chairs in the room.
This time, Jim burst out of a real laugh that made the hands of the man caring for him tremble. It sounded sincere, the deep sound coming from the bottom of his throat and making him vibrate with enthusiasm.
But... more importantly, did he really just make him laugh ? It was probably the relief of the body after a tense situation, the adrenaline having done its work. Anyway, that’s what Ed would have told him.
As he tied the bandage around Gordon’s palm, Oswald could not help but notice the roughness of his hands. They were almost callous, as were those of a hard-working woodcutter, even during the harshest winters. It was fitting well to Jim.

When he had finished, a slight grateful smile stretched out over the policeman’s face. Oswald was about to give it back to him when he noticed a red dot on the shoulder in front of him. He hardly had time to push their bodies forward while a shot just grazed them.

« What the hell was that, again ?! » he shouted, raising his head to Jim.

« Security on the weapon. If it's connected to a device controlling the wearer’s pulse, a stray bullet can be fired. » he answered by looking at the inanimate body in the distance.

« I’m gonna take it off ! » he hastened to say without realizing the position in which he was.

« No, wait ! » the cop said, pressing his hands more against his back, as if to keep him.

Turning his blue-green eyes towards Jim, he suddenly realized the short distance between them. In his action to protect the man, the gangster had tackled him against the counter. Their bodies were barely grazing, and at one point Jim’s hands had landed on the curve of his back. His own hands were on the said counter, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white.
Jim was looking into his eyes, serious and gentle in his features.

« I’m not good at relationships. Barbara, Vicky... and Lee. I’m probably the worst boyfriend ever, and given my relationship with Harvey and the rest of the GCPD, I’m not a trusted friend or as good a cop as I should be. By the way, thanks for the rescue. » he said, closing his eyes of consternation, questioning himself for what seemed to be the first time in his life. « Also, I apologize if I hurt you earlier. I really mean what I said, but I'd wish it could be otherwise too. »

In the small cabaret drowned by the red lights, Oswald was content to watch him in silence.
During recent months, Jim had indeed appeared more solitary than he had ever been, even during the time when he had been fired from the police station. He always wanted to represent the law and offer an ideal of comfort, but he seemed exhausted from this role and the little consideration he received in return. Nevertheless his love for Lee seemed sincere and Oswald thought that despite his actions, Jim deserved at least that.

« Don’t thank me for the bullet, it was... just a reflex. » Oswald swallowed as he felt Jim’s knuckles playing with the leather straps in his back. He opened his eyes and neither of them looked away. Without them being able to explain why, the atmosphere around them gradually became foggy. Oswald noticed the way the red light darkened Jim’s irises, the features of his face becoming more blurred as he waited for the rest of his speech. « Lee still loves you. Only a blind man could see otherwise. She’s playing with Ed, but the second he will no longer be useful to her, she’ll come back to you. Because... that’s how love works in Gotham. »

The blonde tightened his grip again, their bodies glued together while the criminal’s breathing accelerated dangerously.

« Why do you insist to frequent me ? Sometimes I get tired of playing cat and mouse with you... There are more and more crazy people on the streets that I have to take care of. »

If it was jealousy that Jim was trying to arouse in the nervous little bird, then it was almost successful. One of the blond’s hands had left his partner’s back to touch his hair, smoothing the ebony strands between his fingers like delicate feathers.

« Because... » Oswald could almost feel the warm breath of the man on his cheek, their little look game never waning. « Oh and fuck it! »

Suddenly dropping the counter, Oswald’s fingers clung the collar of Jim’s leather jacket, drawing him close enough to kiss him. The blond seemed surprised by the sudden gain of confidence of the gangster but his arm brought him closer and closer to his body, always seeking more contact.
Jim’s lips were as rough as his hands, leaving Oswald's hair in goal to loose the top of his straps in his back.
Far too quickly, their lips parted and before he could say anything, Jim reversed their positions and moved his hands over Oswald’s hips.

« What are you doing ?! » he said, putting his hands on Jim’s chest, a deep blush as he lifted him up.

« I’m not saying you’re short, but... » the cop answered by putting him on the bar counter, one hand going up at Oswald’s hair and the other down to his knee.

« So first Lee is a head taller than you and then pulls that smug smirk off your face ! » the smallest one groaned with a frown, uneasy to be reminded of his physical disadvantages.

« It doesn’t change the fact that you’re smaller than me. » Jim whistled as he smiled more, their lips locking again as he continued : « And it makes you kind of cute when you get mad. »

Oswald didn’t know if he was saying that to build his confidence or if he really meant it. Thinking that the end result was more important than the rest, he passed his arms around the shoulders of the cop, encouraged by his childish teasing. The blond slipped his tongue on Oswald’s lips, prompting him to delve deeper and, his left hand recognizing the cold metal of the belt, worked on it to declip it.

« Is that why you keep pulling me violently towards you as soon as I answer you ? » Oswald blew when they finally had to break their kiss for some air.

« Hmm... » Jim simply humed as he finished his work on his partner's belt, his nimble fingers starting to undo the buttons of his white shirt. He trailed his lips against the pale neck, phantom kisses moving up Oswald's throat and making him shiver. As Jim gently stroked his knee, his lips touched the contour of his ear and exhaled in a burning breath : « I don’t know if your insolence pisses me off or excites me... »

With the cheeks tinged with pink, Oswald placed his hands on the counter while Jim bent down to leave simple kisses along his chest, his lips following the slow movement of his knuckles dragging the shirt along the shoulders of the smallest.
Then he backed away to take off his jacket, admiring his work. Oswald sat on the bar counter, his ruffled black feathers, his lips sprawling with their kisses. The white shirt held by his wrists, enveloping him like a silky sheet. His bare chest rising and descending in a frantic rhythm of anticipation, the skin pink and the legs slightly spread waiting for him. « Oh, God. » he breathed out throwing the jacket on a table in the distance.

While Jim also took off his polo shirt, Oswald could not help but let his gaze wander along his body. As he had thought, Jim was physically perfect. From his protruding muscles lifting as he passed his top over his head to the discernible V without the belt of his pants. He was so handsome that Oswald could only look away when Jim noticed him.
There was this thing between them that had always been there, but that they wanted to pretend to don't recognize. This electricity in the air when they crossed, the heat remaining in them after a simple exchange, charred remains of frustration when they left each other until the next crossing of their destinies. But this time they were alone, cut off from any external responsibility. For once, they had the opportunity to be honest with themselves.
Jim approached again, placing his hand on Oswald’s chest as if to tell him to lie down. He went up himself to the bar counter, riding the other man without a word. They no longer needed it. Just their sealed lips, their hands feel the softness of the hair and the material of their pants sliding with time.

( I thought about it over and over, I want you. )

When Jim asked in a hoarse and cracked voice if they could continue,

( I was probably hiding it from myself, I want you. )

they both knew the answer.

Chapter Text

« It went better than I expected. »

Jim was sitting on one of the benches along the red velvet wall. On the left side of the lounge, he could monitor the condition of the passed-out sniper and was out of range of his weapon's automatic viewfinder.
He had put on his dark jeans, the top of his body touching the cold edge of the table in front of him as he bent down to have his drink.

« Which part ? » the black-haired one answered, bringing his knees against him, his arms folded over them and his head bent to look at him.
In the interest of comfort related to the tight clothing assigned to him, Oswald was simply wearing his underwear and Jim’s black polo shirt. Far too large for him, the sleeves covered a good part of his hands and his knees were hidden as he wanted.
Jim spoke while again carrying the filled glass to his lips. The discussion had never been a problem for both of them, in fact there was never an awkward silence when they were alone. The lyrics simply followed one another, their common curiosity taking care of the rest.

« Everything, I guess. The dressing, place, booze, the mercenary is off the hook and, uh... the act and the after ? » the blond’s voice dropped a tone, indicating that he had tried to appear more relaxed than he really was.

Feeling his cheeks warming, Oswald turned his head to bury his face in his own arms. They had really done it. He had been fucked by James Gordon, on the counter's bar of late Fish Mooney. What an irony to think that at the time, Jim had refused his invitation for much more of himself years later. They had probably changed a lot since they first met...
Oswald closed his eyes, inspiring the smell of Jim impregnated in the polo shirt. It smelled like freshly ground coffee and wood fire. Oswald did not like coffee, its hard and bitter taste lingering in the mouth, as if he did not want to be drink in the first place. But the warmth of the scents reassured him, forming distorted images in his mind.
Maybe when they'll get out of here, everything will be all right. Jim would drink a hot coffee at the GCPD, starting a discussion with him with a smile on his face as Lee had left him with a kiss to resume her shift. Ed would carry a stack of files against his chest, adjusting his glasses and sharing one of his annoying riddles.
But Oswald turned away from this vision, aware that it was only a waking dream. Jim and he were always rivals. Lee no longer worked at the police station. Edward was dating her.

And yet, even these horrible facts could not make him forget the only images that persisted in his head. Jim’s warm breath on his skin, rough hands exploring every part of his body. The rubbing of the hips with each additional thrust in him, its limb always filling it more. The guttural voice of Jim emitting indecent sounds, tuning without difficulty to the uncontrolled moans of the man submissive under him.
Just thinking about that moment, Oswald’s body found itself wrapped in a halo of persistent heat. He was almost certain that he had moaned the name of the policeman, which had pushed them both to the edge.

« Who will you choose if you’re called ? » Jim asked innocently, taking a sip of alcohol.

Oswald blinked several times, suddenly coming out of his thoughts. That was sort of the question he had feared since they came here. He didn’t want to have to choose. The little bird had been conceived by loving parents and just imagining two people hooking up together without any feelings behind it made him sick. It was a torture worse than anything that had been inflicted on him so far.
He took some time to think about it before putting his chin on his knees with a breath.

« I don’t know. You’d have to do that with the person you love, but... »

« Well, Nygma then. » Jim cut him off by raising an eyebrow, not seeming to understand the hesitation of the former mayor.

Oswald frowned with indignation, rebuking him for his unbelief :

« He doesn’t even like me. I even think he’s with your girlfriend, by the way. Even if she uses him. »

Jim glared tired at him, showing that he did not want to debate it or deal with the anger of the man next to him.

« What happened to make you want to kill each other like that ? I'm not gonna complain because it makes me less work, but not too long ago Ed was still looking at you like that girl you wanted to invite to prom but who you thought you didn't have any chance with ! »

The absurd comparison made them both smile, although Oswald could not think of any time when Ed could have acted lin this way.

« In fact, it was quite the opposite... » he replied bitterly, the memories stabbing his heart and making it bleed for the umpteenth time since their tragic separation.

During the hour that followed, and after Jim’s insistence, Oswald told the story he shared with Ed. First their first meeting at the GCPD, during which he had just thought it was a weird nerd without interest. Then when he had rescued him in the woods, bringing him home and taking care of him as if they were already the best friends in the world. Jim had grimaced, remembering the two criminals singing together on the piano as he woke up in a room that was not his own. Oswald laughed at his reaction, feeling lighter as he told his story. No doubt he really needed to talk to someone about it, to confide to release his emotions far too long locked up.
Then he skipped a few episodes until he became mayor, having brought Edward out of Arkham to reign with him. His intelligence had been an asset and the friendship that developed between them had been the sweetest thing that ever happened in the gangster’s life. Then Isabell-A, coming to ruin his life overnight, had taken from him the only person he loved in this world. Ed had done no better, disappearing for days, only to reappear when he needed advice about his relationship with his new girlfriend. Finally, the way Oswald’s jealousy had killed the woman, Edward discovering him and following in the many times he had tried to kill him. The acid, the bullet on the dock, the second bullet on the dock that failed and allowed Victor Freeze to lock Edward in a life-size ice cube...

« … Since then, I have nothing to fear from him because he’s become stupid. I don’t know exactly what that ice cube did to him but his gigantic brain reacted badly and I know that his oversized ego will stop him from killing me because of it. » Oswald concluded, grabbing Jim’s glass to take a sip of whiskey.

Jim's brow was furrowed. He was trying to follow despite the complexity of the sentimental story between Oswald and Edward, but something seemed to be troubling him.

« I have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to get mad. You did say that all of this started because you were jealous, you killed Ed’s girlfriend behind his back and he didn’t like it, right ? »

Oswald set the glass down by nodding, then gave the cop a questioning look, who continued calmly but with serious :

« Don't blame me for saying this but if it's the truth, Ed is a hell of a hypocrite. Since he's been with Lee, he keeps showing hostility and threatening me because he's jealous to death ... Less than a week ago, he tied me up on a table to compress my ribs until they explode, just to make sure I'm not a danger to him. » Jim touched his chest, remembering the acute pain that had passed through his abdomen.

Oswald widened his eyes, his jaw contracting to the rhythm of Jim’s revelation. As he was about to explode, the cop placed his hand on the shoulder of the smallest, as if to remind him that he had promised not to get upset.
Oswald closed his mouth, his body relaxing at the touch of the blond. To think of Edward made his head hurt and now that he had proof that they were no better than each other, Oswald was even more inclined to give in to his own desires with the man in front of him.
But for the time being, he had to answer a question that might prove crucial in the coming days.

« What does it matter... as far as Ed is concerned, I’m not a rapist, and there’s no way I’m going to force anyone to do anything. Maybe I’ll just have to take Jerome. I’m sure he won’t mind. » Oswald concluded by grimacing, the clown with the bruised face being the last person with whom he wanted to have sex with.

Jim seemed to consider his answer sparingly, his hand still resting on the shoulder of the dark-haired man. He squeezed it slightly before he spoke.

« Choose me. »

Oswald froze for a moment, wondering if he had heard correctly.

« Jim, I’m not sur- »

« We already did it anyway, so it’s always gonna be easier for you than it could be with someone else. » the blond cut him. « And I owe you this. It’s because of me that you’re here, remember ? »

Oswald frowned again. He didn’t know how to feel and it frustrated him. Part of him knew that Jim had chosen him by default, that his feelings towards him were at best disgust and that at worst he would have preferred to kill him if the context allowed him. Considering their common history, it was not paranoia to think that the cop was not an example of charity when he was with him. He was tired of knives in the back, low masses and foolish favours.

« Don’t go out of your way. I’ll cancel the favor you owe me, if that’s what you want. »

Jim pulled his hand off his shoulder, sighing slightly. Yet it didn’t seem to be a relief.

« Your unpredictability is really a pain in the ass... »

« All I want is honesty. Why did you choose me ? » the gangster returned to him, determined to make things clear between them.

A few seconds passed and, seeing that Jim was taking his time to answer, Oswald got up from the sofa to head for his clothes. He didn't know what time it was, but they probably should not stay longer than necessary in this prison with the sweet scent of treason. If life had taught him anything, it was that friendship and love were in reality only cruel means to achieve his ends. But if he lingered in this environment cut off from the outside world, he would end up forgetting his own principles...
Oswald had put on his white trouser and shirt when Jim finally decided to answer him.

« Did I really have a choice? I’ve been trying to nail Jerome for months ; he’s a lunatic who only belongs in the asylum and knows it very well. He’ll kill me any chance he gets. And Nygma ? Even when he was working at the GCPD, I wouldn’t have chosen him for anything in the world. » he winced as the smaller returned his polo shirt. « Of course, I am not "attracted" to you. I hope that it has always been clear moreover... But I don’t know, you were right there in the center of my vision and something told me... » the blond passed his hand through his own hair, visibly embarrassed now that they had put distance between them. « … That choosing you was obvious. »

Oswald looked the other man stand up and put on his top. An " obvious choice " ? He didn’t know what it was supposed to mean and maybe he didn’t want to know. He simply wondered why even after their frolics, the tension teasing between them did not fade. The gangster still felt that force of attraction for the nice cop that he couldn't fight.
Trying to divert his attention from Jim for a few seconds, Oswald noticed a key on the table behind them. Going to pick it up and tender it to Jim, he paid attention to the lights of the room, rocking from an intimate and sensual red to a light sky blue harmonizing with the blond's irises.
Jim took the object Oswald was giving him and put it in his jeans pocket. But while he was already limping towards the exit door, the other man cut him off in his momentum :

« By the way, you didn’t answer my question... »

Oswald turned around and raised his head gently to look at his interlocutor, an eyebrow raised. Jim probably understood that he should be more specific, as he went on to say :

«  When I let you live on that dock, it was a matter of civic duty. I couldn’t kill you and I still can't, but it took me a while to realize that you saw this as a possible friendship between us. It was impossible, so I did everything I could to keep you away from me, to make sure our paths never crossed again. » he paused, took his drink and finished the contents in one breath. He rested it and took a few steps towards the other man. « I feel like the more I reject you, the more determined you are to come back to me. »

Jim’s blue eyes seemed to want to pierce the gangster’s soul, his desire to know the truth burning him since so long that he could not hold his words anymore. Oswald bowed his head again, without a word. The suddenly sad expression on his face seemed to worry Jim, but he did not want to risk making things worse.
Long seconds passed without a sound, the calm seeming a dull agony for the policeman.

« You smell like wood fire. »

Jim raised his eyebrows with surprise. Oswald’s unpredictable temper had once again succeeded in surprising him.
The raven-haired man took a lighter out of his pocket and lit the flame, hoping that Jim would understand what he wanted to do with it. It was sometimes fascinating to see how the two men managed to understand each other without a word. Just a subjective look, a gesture, an action and the other one knew what he had to do. This was the case when Jim went to the unconscious body of the mercenary to search his pockets. It’s not like he’d need his cigarette pack anyway.
He came back to Oswald and handed him one, always perplexed as to his words.

« When I was a kid, I once tried to stop moths from throwing themselves into the flames of city cans that heat the homeless at night. » the gangster pursued, taking the cigarette, the tip blushing under the heat of the lighter. « When my mother asked me what I was doing, I told her that these stupid moths were throwing themselves into the fire and that, even trying to keep them away, they all ended up getting burned. I wanted to warn them that it was useless and that they would die if they threw themselves into the fire... »

Jim looked him carefully put the other round end between his lips. He still didn't seem to understand what it was all about, but at least he was listening.
As usual, they were only one step away from each other, the proximity not disturbing them more than that.

« My mother told me that what I was doing was vain. She said they were moths and that there was no point in chasing them. That they were always attracted to the light and there was nothing we could do about it if they were so stupid... That it was in their nature to behave this way. » Oswald pulled the tube away from his lips and exhaled a bit of smoke, his head facing towards the ceiling. « You see, if the world was suddenly plunged into darkness and these flames found themselves to be the only source of light, well... »

« Well what ? » the blond asked perplexed, a bit of impatience in the voice.

« Well, I’m sure I will throw myself into that inferno too. » the criminal smiled, his turquoise eyes shining in the light of the spotlight. « Yes, I will not hesitate for a second... Even if it meant that I'll burn my wings. » he took another aspiration of the cigarette before continuing. « And even once my wings would be completely consumed and that my body had fall to the ground, even if I had to drag myself through the mud until I'm completely covered of it ; I’m sure it wouldn’t change anything. » he exhaled again by closing his eyes. « Despite all of this, I will return to throw myself into the fire without any hesitation. »

Jim was drinking his words, the intimate setting having slowly re-established itself between them. Oswald had always been a good speaker and had no difficulty capturing his audience, whether it was a crowd or a single person. Moreover, his words seemed to make sense as he related.

« You being serious ? » the cop replied, his arms folding over his chest and adopting an expression of pity on his face.

Oswald displayed a smile that was both melancholy and soothed, as if relieved from an immense burden. While he was bowing his head to Jim, the one was always looking at him with the utmost attention, lowering his arms to place them on his self hips.
Under the blue lights, they were now looking into each other’s eyes.

« Because to me, you are the one who represents this inferno, old friend. »

« Oswald- »

Unlike him, Jim was not good with words. He was clumsy and often acted before thinking. So while he didn’t know what to say, Oswald followed the movement of his arms slowly detaching himself from his hips to wrap around the size of the smallest, pulling him in a tight embrace.
A little gasp of surprise escaped from Oswald’s lips, not having, if one omitted what had happened between them a few hours ago, never shared more than professional handshakes with the policeman. The sudden contact brought the heat to his face again and he realized the power that Jim really had over him. But for now, it didn’t matter.
He simply wrapped his own arms around Jim, swallowing the tears that always threatened to flow when he felt overwhelmed by his emotions.
It didn’t get better when Jim pulled a hand out of the curvature of his back to caress his jet hair, exerting a soothing pressure on his head. The blond was much smaller than Ed, allowing Oswald to hide his face in his shoulder, squeezing him harder.

« I don’t want to be the fire... » Jim began, the hoarse voice in his ear. « — because that’s not fair. If I were a moth too, I wouldn’t have to burn you. »

A nervous shiver ran through the spine of the smallest. Of course, they both knew it was impossible. Jim said so himself earlier. But the simple fact of knowing that the other man wanted it too and despite that, briefly lowering his defences, made him feel incredibly relieved. For the first time, Oswald did not feel rejected. He was not slave to an unilateral attraction and had never been.
He felt good in Jim’s arms. The heat in the hollow of his neck, his knuckles' softness in his hair and the pressure of his hands in his back. He should not get used to it because it would not last, but the security and protective figure that Jim Gordon represented was preventing him from fighting.

Lee was probably lucky to be loved by such a man.

They remained thus for a long time before separating, the cigarette still lit beginning to burn Oswald’s fingers. He extinguished it and put it in an ashtray, taking these few moments alone to catch his breath.
When he finally joined him, Jim’s hand was on the doorknob of the exit door, waiting for confirmation to open it and carrying the mercenary still inanimate on his other shoulder.

One nod later and they were coming out of the lounge.

Chapter Text

The sudden white light was attacking the gangster’s pupils. He put his forearm on his forehead, squinting as he recognized the main hall in which he had awakened hours earlier. He had no temporal clues at his fingertips, but he knew he’d been with Jim for a time now.
At least, more than he was used to...

While he was about to place the mercenary in a corner of the room, Oswald noticed the redhead leaning against the opposite wall with a mean smile on his face. However, he seemed more interested in bothering their new host rather than "his little bird". And the latter was extremely grateful, content to follow their actions from afar.
Jerome was strolling towards Jim and, before Oswald could wonder where Ed had gone, he heard a neutral voice on his back.

« Oswald. »

The latter startled as he turned around, instinctively putting his arms in a defensive position. Whether with Jerome or Ed, he felt like an easy prey in this room. Adored by one, hated by the other, Oswald almost preferred Jim’s characteristic indifference to him.
This made him think for a moment about the choice of their captor. Why four of them in particular? There was neither the Mad Hatter, nor the Scarecrow, nor even Fox or Harvey to match to Gordon. Although he could hardly imagine one of them finding himself in such a situation.

« What are you doing ? » Edward reflated with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Ah, it wasn’t really the time to think about this. He would obviously have plenty of time to find the crazy man who had dared to humiliate him this way after their incarceration.
He slowly lowered his arms from his face, looking at the figure far too tall in front of him.

« Just checking you don't point potentially lethal weapon at me. » Oswald replied coldly by raising his eyes until he met Ed’s. « Why would you even come to me if it’s not for that ? »
Ed’s eyebrows rose briefly, as if his intentions had been clear. His gaze fixed somewhere above Oswald’s shoulder, his jaw contracting slightly.

The gangster frowned at the reaction.
Ed never got right to the point when he wanted to say something, always going through convoluted metaphors or riddles to express himself. Sometimes he didn’t even say anything and just waited for his interlocutor to understand by himself. That was one of the things that frustrated the criminal tremendously about his ex-friend, and even more right now.

The silence seemed to last so Oswald decided to look over his own shoulder, see if Ed was looking at anything in particular and was not just lost in his thoughts.

Perhaps it was both.

Penguin’s face was now whiter than the clothes he wore. The realization of the object that held all the attention of the tallest man frozen him on the spot, unable to make the slightest gesture. It was as if all the comforting warmth he had received in the last few hours had been swept away by a torrent of cold, indomitable water.
Oswald had been so focused on what he had to do with the cop that he had completely forgotten about the screens in the main room.
Everything they had done had been seen by Jerome and, he would have hoped, ignored by Ed. But that had not been the case.

He slowly, very slowly turned back to the other man. He had no way out, no words to explain anything that might have happened. Everything had already become blurred in his own memory, preferring to remember only the change in behaviour that Jim has had towards him just for a few pleasant minutes of his existence.
Now he was cursing himself for his own thoughtless actions and his heart was pounding in his chest to force him to stay awake. Force him to face what he had done.

Ed's dark irises moved rapidly from one point to the other of the body in front of him, seeming to auscultate at each small piece of exposed skin from afar.
Oswald could not describe how uncomfortable that made him. He thought that Ed had no interest in following their retranscribed exchanges but for some obscure reason, everything seemed to indicate that he had done so. Was it to make fun of him ? Did he hate him to the point of using the situation to his advantage to destroy him psychologically ?
Oswald felt something pinching his heart, a pain as intense and fleeting as when he had been ridiculed at Arkham. He felt far too exposed, almost violated by Ed’s thorough inspection of his body.
He clenched his teeth so hard that it hurt his jaw, closing his eyes to concentrate on his own breathing. He was not to cry. If he showed any sign of weakness to the man in front of him, he was done. He should not-

« Did he hurt you ? »

Oswald reopened his eyelids, not sure if he heard right.

« Excuse me ? » he answered before he breathed deeply, trying to keep his tears far away from suspicion.

« Did Jim hurt you. » Ed repeated robotically, more an assertion than a question as that he held out his gloved hand toward Oswald.

Surprised, the latter took a sudden step back, his bad leg making him wince with pain as it collided with the main tower of the computer complex. He almost lost his balance but Ed stabilized him in the blink of an eye, one hand grabbing quickly on his shoulder and the other one wrapping around his waist. Oswald’s hand automatically clung to his green jacket to stand, pulling at it as if he depended over his life.
When he was more or less certain that he was still standing and stable, Oswald raised his head to face Ed’s face.

This one was at a reasonable distance because of their significant difference in size, but it would have a simple push to make them too close to each other again. Ed's pupils were dilated, an infinite darkness making him seem even more dangerous than he already was.
Oswald cursed himself inwardly for having let his gaze fall on his slightly open lips and, from what he thought, much too inviting.

« Hey hot bunnies, when you’re done making out we might be able to show you what we found ! » the clown laughed loudly across the room while he didn’t even look at them.
And for once, Oswald was happy that Jerome opened his big, scarred mouth to annoy him. He already had too many new affectionate contacts in the last few hours and was not sure he had the strength to push back the only person he ever really loved. If Ed was challenging him now, it could only end badly.

But instead of letting him go, Ed’s grip on his shoulder tightened and his mouth closed to tighten his jaw again. His expression was serious but he didn’t move, as if he wasn’t sure of what he was doing.
Oswald was still paralyzed by his persistent gaze, not even blinking for a second.
The same thing had happened in Arkham when he had called Riddler by his name. The depth of an alarming darkness drowning the sweetness of Ed’s chocolate irises, his jaw that seemed ready to explode under the crushing pressure of his teeth clenched with anger. It was definitely going to end badly.

« Don’t even think about it ! »

Oswald was slightly shaken by Ed’s hands which finally let go. In fact, Jim had rushed to separate them. He was now standing between them, anger imbued in his perfect features turning towards Ed.

«  If you want to kill each other, wait until we get out of here. This is not the time to settle your scores. We agreed on that. Didn't we ? » he grumbled, making sure they were aware that it was NOT a proposal but an order.

In response, Ed pulled away slightly and swept the blond's body as if it was an x-ray scanner. Reaching Jim's face, his lips twisted into a nasty smile and he walked away, retorting :

« Whatever you say. Jim. »

Then he went to Jerome, or more precisely to what he had called them for earlier. Jim sighed and turned to Cobblepot, a stern expression engraved on his face.

« I-I swear I didn’t do anything ! » Oswald protested by raising his hands in front of his chest, not wanting to suffer the wrath of another man after Ed. He lowered the volume of his voice by pursuing : « I don’t know what got into him... I thought he wouldn’t even look at me, but he- »

Jim’s features softened as he reached out to lower the criminal’s.

« I know. Come on, we know what the key we've found is for. »

Oswald was pleasantly surprised by the rather gentle tone used by Jim, comforting him in some ways. Fucking good boy with his protective aura. He probably shouldn’t have, but it pushed him to stay as close to the cop as possible as they headed for one of the doors in the room.

This one was slightly different, larger than the others and had a lock adapted to the key they had found in the lounge. Jim inserted it with a "click" and the door opened like an airlock.
Without even looking inside, Jerome slipped into the opening and looked around him. But the cheerful complexion he displayed was announcing that they were probably far from been finished with this affair.

« Nothing but a staircase and another door at the end. » he declared by shrugging his shoulders. « What a pity, it seems that we will have to go to the end of the game ! »

Edward crossed his arms before elegantly putting his chin against his folded index finger.

« If we consider that this path leads to the exit, there are certainly two other doors or more to unlock. »

Oswald wanted to answer " Well done Sherlock " to mock but he was not really in the mood to provoke him for the moment.

« We should try to force it. Or crochet it, no matter as long as we get out of here ! » he finally said by fixing the next door at top of the stairs. Oh god, he’d like so much to get out of here before he commits the irreparable. He’d give anything to wake up in bed and be aware that it was just a stupid dream. Whatever he should probably consult if he was having those kind of dreams... and to think about avoiding Gordon, too.

The shrill shout of the speakers made them turn around abruptly.

« Well done ! You have validated your first round, gentlemen. But it’s time to move on to the next one... And without further ado, I invite you to return to your placements. »

« What ?! » Jim inquired. « It must be only half an hour since we left the last room ! »

«  And it is not excluded that you will return there shortly. Are you enjoying this that much, detective ? » the voice mocked on the other side before turning off in a new shrill noise.

James clenched his fists but didn't answer. Oswald could see the tension in all his muscles, a sign that his violent temperament might resurface. And if the cop couldn’t hit a voice, he might as well blow it out on someone else. In general the gangster was his first choice, which encouraged him to move away to join the black line first, followed closely by Jerome.
After all, weren’t lives at stake ? He didn’t know exactly who it could be for him. All the people he cared about were either dead or mad at him. And as if that wasn’t enough, the person behind all of this had the power to choose one of the two partners and the slightest mistake could potentially influence his decision. It was better not to be noticed.

Without a word, they started to walk slowly towards the black line marked on the ground, as if it was the last straight line towards purgatory. Waiting was even heavier than the first time, the tension in the air having escalated more between Ed and Oswald who were standing side by side. The latter thought he heard a "It will go" whispered somewhere on his left, but he didn't paid more attention to it.

« Jerome Valeska, please proceed to the red circle in front of you. »

Oswald instantly closed his eyes and couldn't help but let out a little trembling breath. So let’s resume...
At first he'd been chosen by Jim. Then Ed had attempted a mysterious approach which him alone knew the reason. And now he was going to be chosen by Jerome.
Seriously ! He had been rejected during all his life, betrayed and wounded by all and these three were probably in the top five of people who made him suffer the most because of his feelings. And now that they were stuck here with these stupid rules, they all were turning over their jackets to torture him again and again.
They were only halfway through the game and the worst-case scenario Oswald could think of from there was that he could had to choose for the next round. There was no need for him to be a masochist, inflicting on himself the person who would break him next.

It's therefore without any surprise on the part of anyone that Jerome didn't wait for the countdown to begin to proclaim a masterful « Oswald~... Cobblepot. »
But a part of Oswald wondered for a moment if it would be so terrible as he had thought when he arrived here. After all, Jerome had left him alone until then. Even if with the clown, it surely meant calm before the storm...

He stepped forward, Jerome waiting patiently for him and offering him his arm with courtesy. An arm that Oswald refused with disdain, simply passing in front of him without looking at him to reach the lighted door as quickly as possible. If he would tolerate him for the duration of the event, it didn't mean that he would do it with great pleasure.
Nor did he turn as he could barely hear Jim’s grunt behind Jerome’s steps, resounding against the walls of the main hall before the door closed behind them.

« We need to talk. »

Chapter Text

«  Did you say something ? »

« Hm ? Nope, it wasn’t me. »

Oswald raised an eyebrow, but Jerome was already entering the cabin made for him. He was sure that he heard someone talking behind him and it didn’t sound very friendly. Was it Ed or Jim? Or maybe the clown was already making fun of him by playing with his nerves? Oh, he was really going to hate this event...
He entered his own cabin, already knowing what he had to do. A certain relief passed through him at the sight of what he was now to wear. Although it was still not very consistent with what he usually wore, it had at least the decency to be more presentable than the previous outfit.
The black shirt, whose buttons stopped midway through it, forced him to leave the turquoise tie relaxed at the level of the dark and gold jacket. These three colors composed, with the white, the entire rest of his outfit. Black mittens, white pants, a black belt all the more basic... His boots with gold lace-up soles were different sizes: the one on the left stopping at the calf and the one on the right extending beyond his knee to mid-thigh height. He didn’t know if it was a reference to his bad leg again, but he wasn’t going to complain about comfort.
The last element was a long jacket with short sleeves, striped black and white as well as lined with this famous bright yellow. Well... If one disregarded the chest cut-off and the bad taste of the association of colors, it wasn't so bad.

The gangster began to yawn as he headed for the exit door of the cabin. God, he was probably already too old for this bullshit. He wasn't ready to bear Jerome Valeska or to do anything strange with him. Although it was always better than having to endure Ed’s changing temperament...
What was going on with him suddenly ? It didn't sound like him… No, Ed wasn't a stalker, nor concerned in any way with Oswald. His only goal was to destroy him and he had already assimilated it well. Besides, he didn't even know why he cared.
Oswald shook his head by turning the handle to find himself in the corridor, waiting for the appearance of Jerome. Were they going at Fish’s club again ? The clown had never set foot there and it didn’t seem very appropriate. If the organizer of all of this had a special way of operating depending on the participants, maybe they could try to paint a mental picture and guess who it was. Gotham was really hosting a lot more twisted minds than his...
A tap on his shoulder quickly woke him up as he examined the body in front of him. Jerome was... how saying. It was like a questionable mix between his and Oswald's wardrobe. The top consisted of a fully enclosed white shirt, a yellow jacket with black buttons and an elegant bow tie. The black magpie coat with white lapels and short sleeves was leaving his forearms free before covering his hands with silky dark gloves. A purple band held his puffy trousers, tights with plum tiles and waxed shoes with white laces completing his outfit. A classy pork pie tied with a golden ribbon highlighted the mahogany reflections of his perfectly arranged smooth hair.

« Huh, purple actually looks really good on me ! » Jerome exclaimed as he was spinning around, waiting for the approval of the other man.

Violet was Oswald’s preordained color, everyone knew that. And every sentence Jerome uttered was always conducive to subtext. Reading between the lines was the key to understanding it and, in this case, the meaning was more than obvious...

« Humph... yeah. Not too bad. » Oswald responded by shrugging his shoulders.

« Oh come on, don’t be so grumpy. I see it in your eyes that you think I’m beautiful. » Jerome passed an arm over Oswald's shoulder and took the opportunity to take a look at the bare top of his chest. « Yours are not bad either, but you should take off the coat. It spoils the view. Jim was so lucky to get your tight white pants ! »

« Shut up for God’s sake... » Oswald hissed.

It wasn't surprising that Jerome was so relaxed when talking about their bodies, but that was not the case with Oswald. Clothes were not to be used to sexualize a person or to highlight his forms... It was all above a delicate art intended to sublimate the silhouette of an individual, which had nothing to do with it ! It was disgraceful to talk about it that way, especially about him. In fact, he just didn’t like to be told about his physical.
As they proceeded along the long corridor that would lead them to the rest of the trial, Jerome declared with frivolity :

« You'll have to obey me by the way. »

Oswald burst out of a bad laugh, the redhead’s arm still wrapped around his shoulders, holding him captive.

« Of course, bank on it ! We’re not in Arkham here. It’s not like you can ask your henchmen to correct me every time I do something that bothers you. »

Oswald expected Jerome to be angry or sarcastic about his non-cooperation. But it was the incomprehension that emerged from his pale features as he pursued :

« It was written. Of course I like it and you would have obeyed me anyway, but I mean I didn't choose it, you know. »

They stopped momentarily, Oswald’s turn not to understand what he was saying.

« What do you mean by it was written ? » he replied while Jerome was pulling out a ragged paper from the lapel of his jacket.

Oswald took the paper and mentally read what was written word for word on it. Jerome was right, his first objective was to obey him. Other goals all more decadent than each other were marked below and he tore the manuscript before he had time to read them. It was a fucking nightmare !
He had very, very bad memories of Arkham and about his not so distant past as the clown's slave. So on the one hand he didn't want to have to bend to his four wills to satisfy his sexual urges and on the other hand-

« Jimbo didn’t tell you, heh ? » he heard Jerome burst out of laughter, looking at his sudden violence as the torn pieces of paper were thrown to the ground. « It’s not very nice of him to keeping it from you that he knew exactly how things were supposed to happened between both of you ! »

And on the other hand, Jim had lied to him. Everything that had happened between them in the last few hours had been written down and he had no idea. It was far too good to have been real and obviously, it has never been !
Oswald felt far too humiliated to say anything constructive to Jerome. What a fool he had been to believe that the cop could be nice to him even for a moment. No doubt he felt guilty for having deceived him and that was for this reason that he had defended him against Ed. His behavior was becoming so clear now.

« This filthy... This filthy coward ! » he shouted, letting the anger that burned inside him explode. Unfortunately, there was nothing to break here. No object to help him expel his hatred against a wall or to stab the clown to death.

The latter was wearing a satisfied smile, his fingers drawing concentric circles over Oswald’s shoulder. His arm exerted pressure to move them to the door while he was declaring :

« You know how much I love it when you let out what's worstest in you, but sooner we're done and sooner you can take it out on Jim Gordon~  »
Oswald breathed deeply by loosening his fists. The clown had a good point. Of course he wanted to get back at Jim after he played with his feelings, but it was useless to spend what was left of his energy now. He was just tired of being stuck here. And maybe it was Jerome who invented all this. His head was starting to hurt...
Who could he really believe in ? Nobody ? Very well... If they wanted to play individually, they would play. The second they get out of here, three corpses will cover the stairs with their blood. Did they deserve it ? Of course. How should he go about murdering each and every one of them ? Maybe he could find a weapon in the next area for... oh, yeah, he almost forgot about the ordeal. Were Jim and Ed going to enjoy this one? Hell, his brain was going to fry under the weight of the number of questions that crossed his tortured mind. Nevermind, they were about to die.
Oswald could feel the delicate silk of Jerome’s gloves exerting pressure on his jaw, turning his head towards him.

« Mmh... that shard of killer inside of you. » he purred before putting his lips on his, or at least what was left of them.

« WH- » Oswald immediately pushed him away, putting one of his leather gloves on his lips as if to chase away the unpleasant texture of Jerome’s. That wasn’t an order, was it ?

Jerome let his arm slide along his back, the other opening the door in front of them. His voice dropped an octave as he was whispering in his ear :

« It's not serious. Believe me, you will learn to appreciate them. »

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

« We need to talk. »

Jim slowly turned his head towards Ed, looking more confused than anything else.

« Uh... sure. What do you want to talk about ? » he replied calmly, playing the sympathy card with him.

The tall man put on a grin and then hurriedly turned his body towards the other to face each other.

« Oh, Jim. Don’t act like you don’t know. » he was obviously waiting for an answer, but as it didn't come, he continued just as cheerfully : « Keep your dirty fingerprints away from what’s mine. »

Shocked by the verbal attack, Jim rolled his tongue while frowning. After a few seconds, he spoke slowly and articulated on each of his words :

« 'You talking about Lee or Oswald ? Cause neither of them belongs to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you should stop harassing people. »

- Harassing -

Even Edward’s grin disappeared when he heard that word.

- Stop harassing Kristen, you pervert. -

Jim was wrong. He wasn’t harassing Lee because she wanted him close to her. She was a strong woman, she would have made him understand if he represented the least nuisance for her. On the contrary, she praised him and showed him signs of affection. As for Oswald -

« How long have you been dating the other side ? » he mocked, hoping to silence his thoughts.

Jim put his hands on his hips, grimacing at the sudden change of direction that their conversation was taking.

« I am not interested in men, if that is your question. I remind you that we're in a particular emergency. »

Liar. It couldn’t be true. Things seemed too easy between Jim and Oswald. How could they have simply fuck together unambiguously and resumed their activities as if nothing had happened ?! No, there was more than that. There MUST have been more than that...

« How long have you known each other ? I bet you see him very often. »

He couldn't help himself. His tongue was out of control, far too fast for his thoughts. Jim was going to think he was crazy, if that hadn't been the case for a long time now.

« I would say...a bit less than a decade now. Maybe eight years, you lose track of time quickly in this city. And yes, we see each other more often than we have to. » Jim mocked, aware of his own bad deeds over the years. « And it doesn’t end often enough with handcuffs on his wrists. »

Ed’s knuckles suddenly folded against the palm of his hands. Everything inside him was bubbling. He could feel his nerves getting excited to the end of his fingers, the desire to end the policeman’s days much more pressing than he had imagined. Was Jim laughing at him ? Why didn’t he stop using these double-meanings ! Was he aware of his reaction a few hours earlier ? Did he want to make him jealous ? No, it was impossible. He didn’t see him talking to Jerome, so he didn’t know.

« I don't get why you are so mad at me for Oswald. » Jim continued as he starts to lose patience. « You should be happy about what happened to him since you hate him, right ? »

« Don’t call him by his first name. » Ed was clenching his fists so strong that the leather creaked to the rhythm of his words.

How did Jim dare to provoke him this way ? Of course he should have rejoiced, it was the perfect opportunity to humiliate him. But...

« You’re not allowed to play with him like that ! » he continued energetically, his eyebrows gathered now.

Jim crossed his arms, his eyes pleated by answering : « Because you have the right to ? I’m not even playing with him ! »

« Excuse me ? » Ed replied with a fake surprise in his voice. « Detective James Gordon is a Saint, of course he would never use his favorite criminal’s feelings towards him to take advantage of the situation as happened the 41st times before ! »

Ed knew he was right. Replaying the mental images in his head was driving him crazy, seeing them hugging like they were the best friends in the world. Why didn't Oswald push him away ?! Of course, he knew that he and the cop had a common past but he didn’t know any details. Had they ever been lovers ? That would explain why it went so well between them. He should have known that all the clues were converging on this same conclusion : Oswald’s incomprehensible taste for men, his unwarranted kindness to Jim, the way he was looking at GOD the way he always looked at him !

« Oh guys ! Less loud, some are trying to sleep here. »

The two of them turned to see the mercenary sat on the ground, the members bound and visibly satisfied to have bothered them.
Jim sighed, looking at Ed with a tired expression on his face.

« Look, I don’t want to know why it makes you so angry when there’s no reason. You have Lee, great. As for Oswald, there’s nothing more than... a professional connection if you can call it that. You guys do your own business, okay ? End of the discussion. »

« But I- »

« End of the discussion. » Jim repeated, turning around. Then he went to the mercenary and knelt down to talk to him, probably trying to pull out information.

Ed closed his mouth, still staring at him. He couldn’t do much about it anyway. Why was he even mad at Jim ? Lee wasn't there, and he had already taught him the lesson. He was only in love with Lee and Lee was loving him in return.
He felt a violent headache, images blurring in his mind. His thoughts were becoming less and less clear as the hum in his ears intensified. He bit his lip thinking about what the clown was supposed to do right now. He was a worse bully than Jim and- no, Oswald was going to stop him from doing anything. He knew him after all. He knew him. He would plant a blade in his jugular before he had time to lay his disgusting lips on a single square centimeter of his skin. His skin. How was he dressed ? Was he exposed ?

« Damn it Ed, you psycho ! Stop thinking about it and everything will be fine ! At the same time if you weren’t so jealous, you wouldn’t be so weak... Are you really going to let this asshole steal everything we love ? Oh stop covering your face, you know you love him. » he whispered for himself, knowing that Jim would not hear him.

But it was not him who was speaking. For the second time in just a few hours, he was appearing. The beginning of his problems, his own demons. If only he hadn’t been here, he never would have known about Jim and Oswald. He would never had this outburst of murderous passion, this desire to possess him, to be seen, to be the complete center of the other man’s attention. He WANTED to be the only one worthy of interest to him. The breath burning on his neck was there to remind him.

« Cause I adore him. »

He was so fucked up.

Chapter Text

« Oh yes that's gonna be SO GOOD ! » Jerome let go of Oswald and stretched his arms forward, his beaming face turned to the starry sky.

If Oswald hadn't yet felt the urge to shoot himself, the time had probably come. Admittedly, they were outdoors. Admittedly, he knew approximately how long had passed since it was dark now. But a funfair, really ? Well, have to see the positive in everything : now he knew that their host had a different modus operandi depending on the pair performing the test. But shit, a funfair !
Already that it was awfully predictable for the clown-prince of the crime, but in addition it had to be a terribly anxiety-provoking place for Oswald. He hated funfairs and always had. It was noisy, boring, of endless uselessness and especially filled with people a little too jovial to his taste. What kind of pleasure people could possibly feel doing rides ?

Jerome turned to him, looking suddenly upset. Oswald frowned back and crossed his arms in return, waiting for any derogatory remark concerning him. He had to remain calm and under control, not to get angry... After all, what did it mean to have sex with the Joker once in a lifetime ?
Oh God, Oswald couldn't believe he was just downplaying the fact having sex with the clown. It really was about time he got out of there.
He didn't move when the redhead took his cheeks in his hands and placed his thumbs at the corners of his lips.

« You don't like much, do you grumpy little bird ? » he huffed as he spread his thumbs, stretching Oswald's mouth slightly. « Let’s put a smile on that face. »

« Stop having fun and hurry up to decide where you want us to do it. » the gangster hissed through his clenched teeth, restraining himself as best he could not to give in to the urge to bite Jerome's fingers.

The latter withdrew his hands, his face twisting in an exaggerated grin as he replied :

« Already in the heart of the matter ! I appreciate your spontaneity birdie but... » he took the hand of the smallest in his own and pulled him forward, forcing the passage through the feast. « Remember, the main thing is to have fun. »

Oswald replied only by a sigh. Of course, it was too good hoping that this could end quickly... Jerome was going to use him as he would with a toy, until it no longer amuses him and that he decides to use his last strengths to rape him when he would least expected it or something like that.
He should have been angry, ready to rebelled, and fought not for it to happen. But it only frustrated him. He had tried in the past and there was only one solution: wait for the right time and strike in the right place. He was only hoping to have the strength to do it when that moment would come...

While trying to keep up with the pace set by the redhead, Oswald was triying to acclimatize himself to the festival. Everything was so colorful around him, so bright and radiant that his retinas hurt. Red, orange, yellow, bright green, lights to do nothing but to annihilate the darkness of the night. Cries and laughter of both joy and fear were overlapping to create a discordant symphony. An environment so foreign to the Penguin because if... "awkwardly positive" was probably the right word.
He didn't notice that they were stopped until he felt something sticky and light against his cheek. He tried to step back but Jerome kept him in place with a firm grip, clapping his foot on the ground and laughing hysterically :

« The King of Gotham is afraid of a little cotton candy ahah ! »

Oswald's cheeks heated. Filth of a clown with his taunts which only he could perceive as amusing ! They were there to have sex so why the hell were they lost in the crowd and looking for something to eat ?
The gangster freed himself from a dry gesture, shouting before turning to leave :

« You surprised me, you idiot ! I’m leaving ! »

Five minutes. They were together since only five minutes and he was already fed up. He didn’t like Jerome and sharing time with him was already torture in itself. He didn’t like Jim but at least he wasn’t so irritating !
Oswald felt a pinch in his heart. He may not have been so annoying, but Jim had hurt him terribly again, and deliberately... Did that make the cop someone worse than Jerome on the scale of people he hates ? Why couldn’t he just have a ladder of people he loves ? Even just two or three, he didn’t ask for anything insurmountable...
The ginger caught up with him quickly and walked around him to stand right in front of him, raising his voice to be heard in the hubbub of strangers :

« It's alright Penguy, I was just joking ! Have you ever been told that you are sorely lacking in humor ? Drink that, you will be better. » he said by handing him a glass of colored liquid.

« Don’t call me that, and then your sense of humor is pathetic. You wouldn’t even make a crazy man stoned on helium laughing. » he replied curtly, hoping to bored him enough to let him go.

But Jerome’s attention seemed already captivated by something other than their conversation. The gangster took the stretched glass and followed his gaze to fall on the Ferris wheel, so imposing that it was impossible to miss it from where they were. All gilded scrap, red neon lights flashed in rhythm with its circular motion, and Oswald wondered how such things could have been constructed here. Was their prison so large that one could afford outdoor rooms and such devices? The more they got bogged down in this game, the thinner the border between reality and imagination seemed.
The ginger pointed his thumb at the attraction and returned his attention to his partner with a smile on the face. Well, that probably meant that he wanted to get theref and that he had no choice but to accompany him... In a hurry, Oswald drank the contents of the glass and threw it into a nearby container.

« Why are there so many people here ? » he asked while Jerome grabbed his hand again to lead him to their next destination.

« They have to be paid to be extras. Or maybe they’re just visitors. You really think they’re just coming to watch us ? » Jerome responded by shrugging his shoulders, not as if he seemed to care.

Oswald shook his head as he grinned. All this made no sense. If they were just visitors, it meant that they were also free to go out. Or they could try to contact someone at any time to call for outside help. It would be a mistake far too stupid to commit... Perhaps Jim and Ed would be more interested and would be able to give him a proper answer. After all, their jailer could not be so dumb to give them such a gross chance to get away with it.
And yet, although he was always on the lookout for a way out, the criminal had to admit that their incarceration was almost a holiday camp compared to Arkham...

They arrived rather quickly in front of the Ferris wheel, Oswald’s mind focusing on the task at hand again.

« Why do you want to do this amusement ? » he asked as the clown was taking him inside a nacelle. « It’s a rather banal and monotonous choice from you. »

Jerome finally let go and settled in front of him, his cotton candy still intact in the other hand. He crossed his legs, an elbow resting on the metal surface behind him. Oswald also sat down and almost breathed happiness as he felt the soft consistency of the seat. It must be said that with time, he began to appreciate every pleasant little thing that happened to him, keeping his mental health as intact as possible.

« Don’t worry, I didn’t bring us here for the fun side. Actually, I thought we should have a little talk you and me. Make a pact. » the redhead began with a serious and dark tone.

« A pact ? »

The Ferris wheel began to turn and Oswald’s body stiffened, his expression going from curious to panicked. No matter what was proposed to him, it could not be good. He could always try to refuse, it would be vain and generally, would leave him as broken as pitiful in the hands of the clown. But did he really have a choice ?

« Yeah, you'll like it ! » Jerome took a bite of his cotton candy and waved his other hand in the air. « You see your boyfriend, the tall, green nerd. »

« He’s not my boyfriend. » Oswald rebuked him immediately before even listening to what he had to say.

« Yeah whatever, don’t interrupt me. So your boyfriend like I was saying- » he ate some of his candy again before continuing. « He's got his brains out, you know ? While you and the cop were messing around, he was talking to himself. Like, I wanted to piss him off and tell tales what you were doing onscreen while he was trying to tamper with computers, but he was already too busy arguing about you. »

Jerome paused briefly and leaned forward a little to capture the attention of the other man. « I think he has a serious crush on you, and I intend to use it to make me laugh... »

Oswald blinked several times before saying anything. He knew that Jerome was insanely crazy and that he liked to play with him, but he didn't like being lied to about Ed. And especially not about his feelings. He had been more than clear that he would never feel anything but contempt for his former friend and it always hurt him as much as he reminds.

« You're saying nonsense. Even though he was angry, it sure wasn't my fault. I'm just his vent on the way out, nothing more. » he said bitterly by biting the inside of his cheek. At least he had confirmation that Ed hadn't watched his frolics and that was rather reassuring.

« How naive you are, Penguy ! But if I have to convince you... »

Jerome continued to eat while reflecting on what Edward had say a few hours ago. He finally snapped his fingers with a burst :

« What do you say 'bout that : Can you explain to me why he is so nice to Jim ? He keeps him down all the time but that doesn't stop him from fucking him at the first opportunity... Wait a minute, does that mean he never NEEDED me ? »

While Jerome was comfortably resetting in his seat, the gangster’s mouth remained open over the shock. What did he say ? Of course, Jerome could still play with him, but ... part of him really wanted to believe it. He really wanted to think that Ed didn’t hate him and that there was a minimum of hope. He raised his head to Jerome who was smiling victoriously as he began to lay out his plan.

« So here’s the thing : we make him jealous to death and the trick is done ! You win your boyfriend. And me the pleasure of being able to make him completely insane. Well, if you think you're up to it ! But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it ? I know you have... hidden talents~ »

Jerome stretched out his arm to grab Oswald’s chin between his fingers and force him to look at him. Was it really a good idea ? There would be only two possible conclusions if he accepted: either Ed wouldn't care and playing the game would not change his life, either Jerome was telling the truth and their return to the room would be explosive.
A slight breath escaped from his lips. Not only did a part of him want to see if it would work, but an even bigger part wanted to hurt the Riddler. He’d injured him so many times, wouldn’t it be fair to return the favor ? Don’t we say that in every misfortune is hiding an opportunity not to be missed ?

« So, you can deal with it ? » the clown proposed, a pure anticipation of excitement animating his voice.

Oswald closed his eyes for a moment. He was both tired and overexcited himself, probably the combination of alcohol and lack of sleep playing with his senses. It would probably be a fun game. He might even die from it when it ends, but did he have anything else to lose ? Even his dignity had already flown away with Jim.
A trembling laugh seized him and he reopened his eyes, an attentive Jerome staring at him with interest while finishing what remained of his cotton candy, leaving only the stick still sweet.

« Give me that. »

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Ed was seriously starting to worry that Jim would notice him, but he was already far too neurotic to just run away from his Machiavellian double.
He turned to face him, a physically identical copy of himself staring at him with his usual air of superiority.

« Leave me alone. I don’t need you to come back and ruin my life. Again. » Ed mumbled.

His double, who was calling himself the Riddler according to his overflow of egocentrism, immediately frowned to make an accusatory judgment against his host.

« So I’m ruining your life ? It’s been a long time, Mister Weathervane ! » He threw with a deep laugh while swinging on his feet. « Let me guess : you’re gonna pretend that everything we’ve accomplished so far was not our doing but yours alone and that I’m just a parasite coming back from his grave to haunt you ? »

Edward was going to respond, but... that was a surprisingly correct inference of what he thought. Even though technically, he was in his head so could know everything about his personal opinions.

« However WE were doing very well before YOU went to lick Lee Thompkins' boots to heal our brain ! » Riddler grumbled, no longer amused by their situation. « Thank God Oswald’s a lot smarter than he looks and managed to get me out of there for a while ! But of course, you still had to ruin everything by letting that woman seduce you- »

« I don’t need Lee to accomplish my crimes, let alone Oswald. » Edward rebuked him.

« Oh, Ed, stop. Since when have you not acted as a criminal ? Right now, you’re just a loser helping the poor and serving as a second hand to his crush. » he answered cynically. « Yes, because I don’t think that sharing two poor kisses with a woman who slapped us makes you her lover. Wake up ! She's using you, wants us to follow the model of the good samaritan-bad boy that is Jim Gordon ! She does not see you as you really are ! »

The Riddler seemed so determined to get to the bottom of it that he wouldn’t stop. He was literally exploding with a frustration that Ed had been sealed for months and was only trying to open his eyes to him as he had done a long time ago in front of Kristen’s corpse.

« You keep hiding the face but our future, who we are- » he ended up exhaling, pausing for air between two theatrical movements of the arms. « I'm not gonna repeat myself forever, Ed. You know who it’s with. »

Ed frowned, clenching his teeth. Deep inside, he knew it. He knew very well that Lee would lead him to his ruin, but he had sought so much to set himself apart from Oswald, work so much to prove that he was much better than him that he had reduced himself to being someone else’s underdog again. And though Lee was satisfying his vanity far better than his friend, she was helding him prisoner.

« Lee cares about me, unlike Oswald. And we agreed to get rid of him. » Ed rejected. « He was shadowing us. And then we were very well on our own. »

He didn't even question his own words as his double burst out of an uncontrollable laugh, making Ed more uncomfortable than angry. His illusion was becoming so powerful and distorted that he was afraid that he wouldn't be the only one to hear it. He gave a quick look at James Gordon, busy molesting the mercenary, before refocusing himself on the conversation.

« Do you realize that you keep contradicting yourself ? Let me refresh your memory... Oh yeah that's right, we were sooooo good that we decided to take drugs to replace him ! » Riddler mimed with the thumb and index finger, forming approval circles. « Fantastic. Replacing a drug by another drug is so smart. Seriously, what did you think you were doing ? »

The more his other-himself was arguing to him, the more Edward was feeling truly weak and pitiful. He had fought so hard to destroy Oswald... All of this to become addicted to some hallucinogenic pills. And yet the Penguin drenched to the bones he himself had introduced into his mind had seemed so identical to the true one : evil and so, so sassy. He still remembered how he came to torment him at the worst times to remind him of how he would never achieve anything without his late mentor.
And then there had been this really, REALLY strange moment of which he still didn't understand the obscure meaning and which he had vainly tried to forget.

« Are you thinking what I’m thinking ? » Riddler laughed again, fully aware that they were sharing the same spirit.

Ed shot at him with his eyes, a faint pinkish tinge covering his cheekbones. He didn't know where had come from this vision that he did not have of Oswald. He knew he could sing, but everything else was from a fantasy that just didn't belong to him !
He put his glasses up, breathing heavily :

« I know you’re the one who slipped this into my head, stop pretending ! »

« What...? Wow, no. » the Riddler remained silent for a moment and, studying the murderous gaze of his alter ego, hastily pursued : « Don’t hold me responsible for your repressed sexual urges ! I remind you that we were both at the wheel when it happen. And you can’t blame us for seeing him when we need help, that would be too easy. »

He crossed his arms and turned his back to face the screen, as if pouting. As for Ed, he suddenly became nervous thinking of spying on what was going on outside.
Was Oswald having a bad time with Jerome ? The answer was "of course he did," but he didn’t know how his best enemy was going to handle the fact having sex with a psychopath. Then Ed stopped thinking about it when his train of thought led him to wonder how one could determine which of the two men would be above.

For its part, the Riddler was also trying to think of something else and refocus on a subject more... serious than their previous topic of conversation. A bad idea by the way, his bored expression immediately turning into an amazement when he concentrated on what was happening on Jerome's and Oswald's side, leaving no room for mere deduction.

« What the... oh fuck. Ed, you got to see this. » he managed to articulate.

The aboved-mentioned didn't move an inch. Yet he was hesitated, his curiosity gnawing at him as much as the growing fear in his bowels. His egocentric alter was so mocking and haughty on a daily basis that to see him shocked by a simple retranscription sent shivers of fright into the logistician's spine.

« Um... could you describe it to me instead ? As vaguely as possible. » he suggested, embarrassed.

His illusion had difficulty in detaching his gaze from the screen, which did not prevent him from being sarcastic about Edward’s false modesty :

« Oh Eddie... You’ll be curious to know that nothing we’ve ever seen is hornier than Oswald Cobblepot sensually licking a long sticky pink stick. Just imagine... » he murmured without even looking at him. Then he clenched his fists, his tone becoming more gloomy : « Too bad it’s for that soiled kid of a bitch. »

« What.. ! » Ed choked, not believing a word he was told. « I... oswald’s not- it’s not like this hallucination, he doesn’t do that kind of things ! He barely knows sex exists, so don’t make it look like he’s... »

As he was spoking, his head gradually turned towards the screen and he saw it. It was right in front of his eyes, there was nothing else to say. Except he felt a little feverish and tight in his costume but it was probably a detail.
Why ? Why was Oswald doing this ? And for the clown ! Nothing could answer his questions; all the data he had were absolutely not in favour of this kind of interaction.
Oswald doing something sexy was about as aberrant as imagining a fish that can't swim. From the time they were spending time together, everyone already thought that the Penguin was completely disinterested in romantic and sexual relationships. With good reasons : he never spoke about it, paid no attention to couples explicitly showing their attachment in the street and, of course, Ed hadn't found any perverse signs or symbols in his things. But then...
First this sexy hallucination, then his infatuation with Jim and now he was seducing Jerome ?

« It can't just be... » Ed passed his fingers under his glasses, rubbing his eyes as if he could wake up from a nightmare. He was trembling, almost desperate and his head hurt. The Riddler's distorted image looked at him for a few long minutes, waiting for him to calm down before formulating :

« I wanted us to get out of here without having to move a finger. But you know what ? Damn right we will get involved in the next draw, just to remind this little impertinent who’s his number one here. » Ed removed his hands, his glasses falling on his nose as he continued : « And by that I also mean putting Jim and this ginger back in their place. »

His number one ? Put Jim and Jerome in their place ? Was that really what he wanted, deep inside ? Edward Nygma had no idea what his other half was talking about to him. He just had this dull drone in there, like a heart attack that would last too long. He wanted to be both alone and with Oswald. Kill him and comfort him. Maybe if he hugged him hard enough, it would end up by breaking his ribs like he did for Jim or maybe choking him, like Kristen.
But Oswald didn't have the right to be so frivolous, he did not have the right to go elsewhere as if everything that had existed between them was only anecdotal in his eyes. He wanted Oswald to do these indecent things by stabbing him with his eyes, not just through a screen.

But if they had to go through the last test together, it would be his last chance to lose control.

Chapter Text

« Well, that was... surprising ! » Jerome threw with an amused smile while strolling down from the nacelle.

Oswald followed his steps as best he could, his somewhat blurred vision. In fact, right now he wasn’t quite sure he could walk straight. It was not normal for him to feel like that; his mind was confused and his body was soft. They stopped a few meters away, leaning against the wall of the haunted house to avoid the crowd.

« I want to know what you've put in that glass. » the gangster grumbled, the palm of his hand resting heavily on his own forehead. He was used to alcohol. If he were to die one day it would probably be by cirrhosis but, more urgent now, it was the first time he felt so bad after having only one drink.

The redhead raised his arms in the air to stretch them, the tone quite light as he replied :

« I could pretend it was just alcohol but you won’t believe me, will you ? Besides, I'm surprised you didn't ask questions before drinking it. » His arms went down along his body, his torso leaning forward to examine his partner. « Am I the one who’s making you so crazy, honey ? »

Oswald stretched his arm out of his face to look at the clown, his eyes wrinkled with misunderstanding : « That does not answer my question. »

« But the real question is, do I want to know ? » Jerome mocked by stretching his arms forward, placing the palm of his hands against the wall on either side of Oswald’s head.

He was totally trapped. Of course, it had been since he woke up in this place but it was the first time he had a physical demonstration of it.
He didn’t move when Jerome leaned over to graze his neck. He could have done anything to push him away, hit him, yell at him like he always does. He had the time because Jerome was waiting for some sign of rejection on his part before continuing. But did he want to ?
Oswald didn’t really feel a connection to him. It wasn’t like Jim. The redhead was particularly unknown to him, his attention to him dating only from his confinement in Arkham. Apart from the frustration and humiliation, he had known little else on his part, and, while the redhead pressed what remained of his lips upon his neck, wondered what he might think of it.

« Wait a minute, Jerome. » he blew and pressed his hands against his chest to stop him. The latter slightly removed his face to face him, an interrogative eyebrow raised.
« You have nothing to lose in this story, do you ? And I don’t amuse you when I let myself. So where does your interest come from ? »

« Eh ? » Jerome retorted, probably wondering whether he was kidding him or not. But the gangster was serious, the features of his face stretching out in excess of confusion.
« Be more specific birdie, I don’t get what you’re talking about. »

Oswald did not think long about how to formulate it, his thoughts overheating just to think about it : « I don’t know why you’re so interested in me. I mean... okay, Arkham, you wanted to have fun and wanted I to be useful to you, classic. But there, I don’t see any explanation. In addition, it’s not as if you had been particularly violent until now... »

Jerome smiled, the corner of his lips stretched disproportionately while answering : « It interests me to know what the king of Gotham looks like in the sake, when he is literally powerless. »
He took one of his hands off the wall and passed it through Oswald’s fuzzy hair. « It must be said that you are far from ugly too. There’s so much worse in Arkham ! » he ends up laughing.

Oswald could not help himself from a hiccup of surprise when he felt his hand come down on his cheek. It wasn't a... usual comment that he received. At best one commented on his clothes, but one could not say that he had often been given great confidence in his physical. And generally speaking, he didn't dwell on the external beauty of Men.

« Stop saying these kind of things ! » he grumbled violently, grabbing the edges of Jerome’s jacket. « Stop always picking on me. I know that you consider yourself incredible and talented, no need to compare me ! You’re lucky that the situation doesn’t allow me to put a bullet in your- »

« It’s nice when it comes out of your pretty Penguy mouth, thank you~ Even if you could have said it a bit more directly. » Jerome replied by stressing only the positive aspects concerning him.
He took the opportunity to place his own hands on those of Oswald, who still held his jacket. « My turn to tell you what’s objectively nice about you. Look, the other day Jervis was bored and discovered in a magazine that the color of your eyes was one of the rarest in the world. That makes you unique, doesn’t it ? And then what kind of madman with white skin and freckles sees himself wearing a hair more black than his soul ? » he continued under Oswald’s puzzled gaze.

The latter said nothing, just listened. In three sentences, a degenerate like Jerome had complimented him more than anyone else throughout his miserable life. Even Ed, who once glorified him with subtle little remarks, had never been able to give him such a feeling. It was clear, concise and, for the clown, everything he raised was positive. It made him feel weird... Pretty good, even. He didn’t need it to feel swollen with ego, but to feel something with Jerome. Some form of sentimental connection.
The redhead bent his head towards his neck again, waiting only a second before locking his lips again.

« And... what do you think about my size ? » Oswald asked by letting him do it, wanting to know where this discussion would lead them.
The sensation of Jerome’s lips on his skin was... strange. It was neither especially pleasant nor detestable. It was just a new touch : something quite slack and malleable. It took a few kisses before he stopped grimacing under disgust, restraining himself from waiting for Jerome’s answer. In front of them, people continued to live their lives in the park, a multitude that did not seem disturbed by their presence.

« It’s kind of adorable, actually. » Jerome answered between two kisses against his tense jaw. « As if your too small body couldn't contain all the rage that bubbles in you ! »

« Um, Jim mentioned it. But Ed says it’s a flaw... that I’m just a kid with emotions. » he muttered in response, unable to concentrate on the man in front of him. It was cynical to think that no matter what kind of discussion he had, his thoughts would always end up going back to that stupid green leprechaun. He should think about forgetting him now.
Oswald let out a small cry of surprise when he felt a strong pressure on his clavicle, a sharp pain going up his muscles to his ears. It only lasted a few seconds before Jerome moved his mouth away, a satisfied smile on his tense face.

« Don’t talk about the other nerd. » he whistled as Oswald laid his fingers on the painful spot, massaging desperately to relax his muscles. « He’s already wrong, because he’s not interesting and you are. Maybe you’re a kid, waiting for the Penguin is a legend in Gotham, like me~ No one will talk about him when he'll be locked up in the asylum. »
Jerome seemed incredibly sure of himself, now working to remove the other man’s coat and throw it over his shoulder, giving him a better appreciation of his figure. « I don’t even get how you can be interested by that talkative leprechaun. He’s tall as a pole, too thin to look good, he laughs at you when he has nothing to please himself and in addition the colors of his clothes are to puke. »

Oswald rolled his eyes to the superficiality of the other, although this didn't seem surprising to him. He didn’t especially like Ed for his physical. He wouldn’t say that he was ugly either, it would be shooting on the wheels of his own ambulance. Likewise for his character; cold and overflowing with pride in every point. And as a bonus, his riddles put him, most of the time, in a black anger.
In fact, he didn't know why he had loved him in the first place. Had he really been stupid enough to consider only the fact that he was nice to him ? Really, it was pitiful of him.

« He had something else, that’s all... » Oswald hissed, as insecure as a chick using his wings for the first time.

« Had. » Jerome sniffed, judging with his eyes.

He grabbed again his companion’s wrist, taking him away.
It didn’t take Oswald long to figure out where Jerome was leading them, seeing the back entrance to the haunted house. And that didn’t reassure him. He wasn’t afraid of that kind of attraction; he was afraid of being alone, stuck with Jerome in that thing.

« Uh... Jerome ? Weren't we supposed to make Ed jealous ? I mean... if he doesn't see anything, it loses interest. »

An amused smile adorned the redhead’s face, appreciating that Oswald’s tone became so abruptly worried rather than angry :

« Instead, honey. We’ve already shown him a few nasty things, but the real game starts now ! » he jubilated as he entered the building, a complete darkness encircling them as he closed the door behind them. « Now that he knows what we’re capable of, his imagination will do the rest. And I’m gonna make sure he thinks of the worst possible... »

Acute pain passed through Oswald’s spine, his back slamming against the wall under Jerome’s impulse. He could not see it, but could feel his hands blocking his wrists. He could feel his body again too close to his own and the friction of his crotch against his kidneys. His breathing accelerated, his nervous system reacting immediately as if it was an attack. He felt ready to raise his knee to take away Jerome’s desire to hurt him, but he groaned against his lips :

« Don’t forget you have to obey me, from now on. » before kissing him without concession.

It was so sudden that Oswald had trouble finding the time to breathe. He was looking like the Christ, all the weight of his body supported by his ribcage. His legs were trembling and his wrists hurt. Everything was confused in his mind, the lack of oxygen didn't help things.
But that did not prevent him from recording the sensation of strange lips on his own. The contact had been violent, the act forced but he was almost beginning to like their presence. In a way, the clown had made him understand that he was wanted. That what he was doing wasn’t just a repeated act of sadism on anyone.
Jerome barely went aside, their mouths separating just enough for him to purr :

« See ? I told you you’d learn to like them. »

Although it was not visible, Oswald was blushing with embarrassment. It was not the time to remind him that the manipulation of his feelings was in order in this game.
He clenched his teeth, controlling himself enough not to hit the redhead in the face as he gradually released pressure on his wrists.

« If you do not relax, you'll suffer more than necessary ! » Jerome laughs, his warm breath against the skin of his captive. « It's your little maso side. Oh and you know what, just think of someone else ! Anybody, I don’t care. As long as you stay good, okay ? »

Oswald laughed nervously, Jerome lowering his hands to take off the black jacket. He couldn’t say that to him seriously, could he ? Was that an order ? If he couldn’t calm down, that freak would notice and get angry.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus on each movement to find an adequate thought.
The gloved hand sliding on his exposed chest, the other expertly unbuttoning his shirt as it goes, the pleasant silk rubbing on his skin... Ed’s mouth kept demanding him, their more jerky breaths every second, the way he had shown him that he only wanted him and now.

His torturer gave a slight pelvic stroke against his, which had the effect of provoking him a groan. Oswald pinned his hand against his mouth, ashamed to come to this just with a simple pressure. But Jerome was so hard on him that it was hard to ignore his level of excitement.
He felt the redhead smile against his skin, his perfectly controlled voice :

« The advantage with live is that I can hear despite of seeing ~ » he grumbled as he opened Oswald's belt. « Don't hold back. It's an order, obey me. »

Docile, Oswald struggled to keep his hand away from his face. But that of Jerome slipping directly into his underwear made him feel great, making him tremble as he was touching his limb without hesitation.
Feeling silk in this place was strange, but nothing surprised him more coming from the clown.
He groaned more when the pace increased, Jerome boring himself too quickly to leave things to linger. Oswald already considered himself lucky that the clown didn't complain of a unilateral exchange; to see it submitted to him was probably more than enough for him. And honestly, less time it would last and better it would get...
The gangster was sure he must have looked like a depraved right now. Between his ruffled hair, sticky skin, messy clothes and the noises they made, he was certainly not in the best of his condition. But Jerome continuing to smile as he looked at him, no doubt that his vision had long become accustomed to the darkness.

He giggled while passing a thin finger on the foreskin, the slight spasm passing through the body of the smallest communicating to him that he was not far from the end. He smeared his thumb with the pre-seminal fluid and caressed it only a few more seconds before he came with a scream, his head falling heavily against the wall.
Jerome looked at him for a few moments before removing his hand to grab his chin, tilting his tired face toward his :

« What grade do you give me ? »

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

« Uh... Ed, are you sure you’re okay ? »

Ed blinked several times before turning his head, only to face Jim who was looking at him. The latter raised an eyebrow by continuing :
« It’s been ten minutes since you stare at the screen with an empty look and don't say anything. It was starting to get a little scary, so... »

« I'm- fine. » he responded by stumbling over the first word, adjusting his jacket to sound a minimum credible.

Jim glanced at him in disbelief but approached him to share in a low voice :

« Look, Deadshot won't say anything concrete. But I think I have a lead on our jailer. »

Ed raised an eyebrow and looked around, noticing that the Riddler had disappeared. It was probably for the best, so he turned his attention to Jim.

« You, me, Jerome, Oswald. Who would want to isolate us from Gotham for so long ? And find an interest in this twisted game ? » the blond submitted to him with his arms crossed. After all, an additional opinion would not be refusal in his investigation.

« A lot of people, actually. It doesn’t reduce our research. » Ed replied coldly. « Jervis Thetch and Scarecrow are on the clown’s side, but nothing prevents them from having the desire to betray him and to expose us on top of the market. Barbara and Tabitha have other fishes to fry right now, but watching us make a fool of ourselves in this way would amuse them a lot. As for Victor Fries and Firefly, although they could isolate us to gain power, they would not find this situation as amusing. »
He paused and suddenly opened his mouth according to a snap of his fingers :
« Could it be that Zsasz- »

« I don't think so » Jim cut him. « Zsasz only is a second hand, so even if he was involved, it would mean that someone higher up is manipulating us. Even if we can admit that his temperament lends itself to it... »

They both remained mute in front of each other, waiting for an illumination that would not come. The cop sighed, their clues being far too thin for now.

« Jim. »

« Mh ? »

« —how can you stay so attached to Lee ? After all the damage you’ve done to each other, you should know how toxic you are to each other. »

It was almost not an attempt to demean him. It was more... to know something else. To have an answer that was scaring him.
No doubt this could be seen on his face since Jim did not get upset, content himself by starting the subject with diplomacy :

« I’m not going to beg you to let her down. She’ll make her own choice when the time comes. » Then his blue sky gaze lost somewhere on the left, the white wall suddenly becoming more interesting as he answered in a low voice but with all the conviction of the world :
« —I love Lee. I really love her. It’s about the important events that we had together. Strong feelings that we once shared. Maybe you understand that, but I still feel the need to protect her even though she does it very well on her own. If anything ever happened to her, it would drive me crazy... »
Ed was silent. But his brain treated every line of his monologue with the utmost attention.
She had helped and cared for him, they had supported the poor people of the Narrows together, killed one of the biggest thugs who was rampant in these places.
He had paid attention to him, had saved him in return, lived as roommates, supported him in Arkham even when he had let him down, left the Asylum, chosen as chief of staff and best friend, worked together, participated in all kinds of events. Then he had killed the love of his life, he had ruined his own in return, killed and humiliated him, then killed again, then was frozen, went back to see him, tried to attract his attention by all possible and imaginable ways, had saved eachother...

She had given him hope and he had such affection for her that he was ready to hang himself to protect her.
He had such admiration for him, both for his criminal activity and for the way he treated him. He would have done anything for him and to make him happy because that was all that mattered to him at the time. Even if he remained his enemy, he was literally all his reason to exist.
Ed swallowed, an obvious malaise gnawing at him from the inside developing dangerously from minute to minute.

« Did you hurt him ? » He uttered bluntly. « When you- »

« I understood ! » Jim interrupted him, massaging his temple in the hope of not remembering too much of the fact that he had sex with Penguin. « I don’t know if it hurt him; I didn’t do anything for it. I don’t know much about homosexual technical problems... » he went on to sigh. « Are you really worried about him ? »

« You really think there’s only a professional connection between you two ? » the tallest replied with a slight grimace, the acid taste of the possible lie burning his stomach.

« ... our relationship is just weird. I don’t like him, but I don’t hate him either. The emergence of madmen like Jervis Thetch or you sometimes make me regret the time when he emerged as a criminal. » Jim simply replied.
He raised his head to look at the black screen, continuing before the man in front of him blamed him for calling him a madman :
« Oswald’s greatest quality in your community is being sane. It makes him much more... human in some ways. I am not saying that his behaviour is normal, but there are times when he would almost make me sorry for him. »

« You feel sorry for him ?! » Ed choked on confusion. « I don’t see why that would be the case ! He did horrible things that deserve no mercy. He can’t even control his anger and jealousy leading to cold-blooded murder so I don’t see how he’s more human than others ! »

Jim looked at Ed, lowering his arms to rest on his hips, a pronounced frown accompanying his thinking :

« Anger and jealousy are bad examples, but Oswald shows a lot of emotions. Lee sometimes mentioned that this could make the difference between two studies cases. »
He passed a hand through his blond hair:
« When he's happy, he laughs. When he's offended, he sulks. But above all, when he is hurt by someone he loves, he doesn't get angry. He cries. Details like that makes him human. »
Finally, he put a hand in front of his mouth to yawn and concluded :
« I once wanted to go after Mario because i was loving Lee. You tortured me because you love her too. But Oswald went so far as to kill your girlfriend because he seems to hate as much as he loves; unconditionally. »
Ed looked at the ground to think about it for a few moments. "More human". So there were many ways to be so; just as Lee always had her share of humanity when caring for the sick from poor families.
Until now he had thought that this was what made Oswald weak. After all, if he wasn’t so emotional and sentimental, he would never have lost anything in his life. His mother, his empire, his best friend... How many times had he made him cry with simple remarks or concrete facts ?
But... since they were no longer so close of each other, his sadness had mattured into angry, then into indifferent. At least he was learning from his mistakes; letting Ed touch him was like letting himself sink. His changing emotions left as quickly as they arrived, leaving only memories and a detached attitude behind.

A contrario, Ed could remember all the nights he spent crying over his own fate when he killed Oswald. At first he felt good, even proud of himself and relieved to have rid himself of the existence of the Penguin. Then, as the days went by, the endless thoughts, the monologues that had no place to be, the heavy silences in this manor house too empty for him alone.
Then came the anguish of finding himself again alone in front of the mirror, the voices in his head gnawing at his spirit of guilt and who wanted to resonate himself; to remember that he had deserved it for having killed what made him happy. He had gnawed his nails to the point of bloodshed, his hair had been ruffled with anger, and when the weight of his actions became too heavy to bear, he grabbed these pills.

Oswald had made him miserable and disturbed. Even now, he could hardly detach his mind from the dozens of photos of him hanging on the wall of his office, waiting for the opportune moment to hurt him even more than the first time on the docks.
But it was too late.
He didn’t care about Ed Nygma anymore. If he listened to his pitiful riddles, it was out of pity; he could feel the boredom that this caused him and the too little attention that he devoted to him.
Was it all that remained of their relationship ? Cold butts and insults that were lost in the wind ? Resentment, jealousy, anger and obsession ?

« We should fight. » Jim proposed, interrupting Ed's thoughts.

The logistician sucked in a bit of air, not realizing that he was not breathing enough oxygen until now. He looked at Jim again while frowning, not understanding what he was getting at. He continued :

« I can see you’re on the edge every time we talk about Oswald or something happens with him and it’s none of your business. You don’t get his attention, and it pisses you off, even if it’s to fight. And he’ll never want to look at you if you look like you’re ready to stab him at any second. » Jim ended up in a defensive position with his fists in front of his face and his body slightly bent to incentive him strike. « It’s good timing, I needed to vent my anger for Lee too ! Let’s fight to vent all this ! »

Ed’s eyes widened. He was not a good fighter; his neurons were enough to defeat his enemies. But confronting Jim would allow him to release his emotions and, above all, to think of something else.
He felt a surge of adrenaline warming his muscles, the ghost of his mind’s body superimposed on his. Maybe he should let the Riddler handle it ?
Hopefully, he’ll get his body back before the next test.

( I thought about it over and over, I like you. )

Tired, he let his senses leave him. All he could feel was the adrenaline that ran through his veins.

( I’ll probably keep it from you, I love you. )

Chapter Text

« Roh, you are abusing ! Saying that I’ve been so bad... »

Juggling with the small key between his fingers, Jerome was standing behind Oswald who was rinsing his face under the cold water of a fountain.
He felt defiled. By Jerome obviously, but also by his own body. The ex-king of Gotham would’ve given anything, just to have the privilege of taking a shower and purifying every corner of his being.

« Don’t speak to me anymore. » the latter replied bitterly, straightening up. « If you hadn’t drugged me in the first place, you wouldn’t have to complain ! »

The redhead shrugged his shoulders, but not without answering a simple :

« Yeah, yeah, that’s what she said. »

Rolling his eyes, the Penguin just ignored the mass of passers-by between them and began to move towards the exit of the carnival. Although he saw a little more clearly after the act, he was still felting in the fog.
Ever since he sat in that pod with the clown, Oswald was felting strangely absent. He still didn't know whether this was one of the obvious effects of the glass given to him by his experience partner, or whether moral and physical fatigue was beginning to take over his frail body. But he felt that as long as he could walk straight, it did not matter that much.

While Jerome was taking all his time to join him, obviously not very cheerful at the idea of putting an end to their little outing, the smallest took the opportunity to take a deep breath.
It didn’t go wrong. It didn’t go well. He didn’t have any physical damage, but it was far from pleasant. The simple fact of being manipulated so easily, pushed by the fear of the clown made him grind his teeth. He felt so weak, so disillusioned here. It was extremely uncomfortable and he was cold, in a way that he would have been unable to be warmed up by a simple piece of cloth. He wanted a bit more than that...
He let all his thoughts escape in a breath, a faint smile comforting him to have finally reached the exit gate.

« It’s over… »

« Moh, I know you’re disappointed it went so fast. But it’s time to move on to phase two of the plan ! » Jerome exalted himself while opening the door in front of his partner. « Sir ! »

Without taking the time to answer, Oswald walked through the door. In truth, he did not even have the presence of mind to focus on Jerome, realizing that a completely unreal scene was suddenly standing in front of his eyes.
Violently pushed against a wall of the main room: Jim, disheveled as not allowed, seemed to catch his breath. His T-shirt was half out of the pants, messy hair and his face covered by sweat.
Just time for Oswald's eyes to change direction to realize that his attacker was not in better shape. In fact, it was even worse. In addition to appearing to come out of a gym, Ed was standing an offensive position facing the blond, fists covered in blood. Bruises were beginning to appear in some areas of his face and probably in other of his body.

« What... » the gangster murmured before moving towards them.

Jim extended his arm to him, as if to indicate that he did not have to ask any questions or intervene. He breathed and took out his best smile before declaring :

« I was teaching Ed how to externalize his emotions, nothing more. We weren’t really fighting- »

« 'Cause you fought ?! And I wasn’t even there. Do it again, come on ! » Jerome shouted, hopping on the spot as the two men began to move away from each other.

Oswald rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, disillusioned by the youngest's attitude. Like him, he should have rejoice in the idea that their plan worked, but to be quite honest, he no longer believed in it. In hindsight, he even thought that it had been a rather childish agreement and that the logistician’s still frozen brain wouldn't have even picked up the slightest message behind his actions. That is not what he wanted, but it seemed to be a more realistic scenario.

The cop passed a hand in his hair soaked in sweat before answering :

« Go have fun with the prisoner... He’s talkative, you should like it. »

Although he seemed bored to leave the Penguin perimeter, Jerome turned briefly to him with a big smile, amused by the fallout of their contract.
Then he went towards the captive shooter by large joyful strides, allowing the gangster to release the tension in his body and appreciate the fact that he was no longer going to be bashed up at the slightest misstep.
Well, it was without counting the fact that Jim had taken off from the wall to start walking in his direction. What else did he want from him, that traitor ?
In parallel, Oswald’s gaze refocused on Ed. Was he aware of the way he had been looking at him since he arrived in the room ? Surely not and yet, it was blatant. And then there weretheses rips on his green suit... He did not seem to have any particular pain, but seeing him so damaged by a "Emotional expression workshop" made the Penguin wonder about the true nature of their exchange. It was obvious that they had fought for the following reason : Who will have the hand of Lee Thompkins ? Even if the answer was in front of their astonished eyes.
Finally stopping a few steps from the criminal, Jim began to take off his leather jacket, not without a circumspect look from the man in front of him.

« Maybe you'll want my jacket ? »

« Your- » Oswald began, before he remembered that a significant part of his chest was exposed. Ah, so that was it.
« … Thank you » he replied, scraping his throat, as he grabbed the leather jacket that the policeman was handing him. So they were all aware of the indiscreet eyes Ed was giving to him. Fuck.

Jim nodded a little bit, then said :

« I have something to tell you- »

« Me too. » the smaller one cut, while sliding the zipper towards his neck. Then he frowned, and looked at the man in front of him. « Why didn’t you say anything ? And do not answer: " I don’t know what you’re talking about ". Jerome had a piece of paper coming out of the dressing room, telling him exactly how this whole stupid staged was supposed to happen ! »

Jim slowly closed his mouth, caught off guard by his speech. He had nothing to say, did not even seem concerned by this information.

« There was no specific instruction in the cabin. At least nothing I didn’t see before I went out... » he replied without looking away. 

Faced with the stoic attitude of the policeman, Oswald began to think that it could simply be a deceipt of Jerome. After all, he would've just had to write it himself... Yes, but with what ? Not as if the equipment at their disposal allowed them anything useful. But in that case, why would their captor have only attempted the blow for the second trial ? Well, if he didn't become angry and had not torn the paper, he would probably have been able to find more clues… Heck.
He sighed, a vague sign of the hand illustrating a " Just forget it. " He no longer even wanted to know which one of the two men was lying, his disgust for others only getting worse. Perhaps this was a desperate attempt to escape his problems. But if that could save him from a nervous crisis due to fatigue, he was taking that path with great pleasure.

Jim stepped forward, close enough to put his hand on the shoulder of his interlocutor :

« We had a little chat with Ed. » he said as Oswald lifted up his head, puzzled with misplaced curiosity. The blond lowered his face to his ear, preferring to continue in a low voice : « We talked about our differences, but he is really in a... weird state. Fragile. And he’s not about to let you go. »

« What do you... » the gangster wanted to interrogate, but Jim’s callous hand and hot breath suddenly left him. He realized that a threatening shadow was standing behind the cop and the latter pulled away, turning his body to form a triangle between them. As for Oswald, he chose again to focus his attention on the newcomer, questioning his improbable eruption.

Ed was standing upright like a picket, contrasting with his dishevelled outfit following the fight with the cop. His gaze alternated between the faces of the two men, as if he was judging an unforgivable act.
Well, what ? Jim just talked to him. Like a civilized being. If that was enough to make Edward Nygma boiling with anger, well no one could do anything for him anymore. Not even Lee Thompkins...
Raising his head slightly, Ed finally focused his gaze on the little bird. His pupils were always so dark, as if the only emotion that animated him was the desire for revenge.
This image sent shivers of anguish into the body of its prey, anticipating the moment of their confrontation. He knew it was inevitable and, in a way, he was the one to have rushed it. But right now, after being abused by Jerome Valeska ? No, no, no...

« I’d like to talk to you. Alone. » the logistician solemnly declared, without even taking the trouble to directly dismiss the one who was standing with them. « And you don’t have to come between us, Jim. It’s personal. »

The blond fixed Oswald for a few moments, uncertain of the level of involvement he had to invest in this exchange. In response, and despite the apprehension he was feeling, the latter nodded his head to indicate that he could leave them. It wasn’t the first time he was facing the Riddler as an enemy. He would probably manage that, and— And he felt the need for this confrontation. It seemed necessary and beneficial to their relationship, even if he wasn't sure that there was anything left worthy of saving.

« What are you playing at, exactly ? » Ed began, while the policeman was walking away with a disdainful look.

« Me ? » the criminal answered, indignated, with a smirk on his face. « Nothing you have ever understood, you who are so intelligent... »
If explanations were what Ed was waiting for, he wouldn’t be disappointed.
« Whatever, remind me how long it took you to- »

« Don’t start that again ! » Ed replied, raising his voice.
He made a step towards Oswald, his posture slightly inclined forward. Doubtless he was hoping to be able to intimidate him in some ways, his size remaining a definite advantage ? But all the criminal could see was that he had crossed his personal space. And while that was not surprising, this little act was perfectly imaging what the phrase " read between the lines " meant with Ed…

Then, with his gaze lowered between them and his eyebrows furrowed, he let go the following sentence without any kind of pressure :

« I should kill Jim and Jerome. »

Ah ?
The other man folded his eyes, the analyze of Ed’s behavior asking him for a capacity for over-human concentration. Was this man definitely dumb ? If he had only activated two of his neurons, he would have understood the reason for his actions. And by connecting them, he could have gotten something smarter than a death threat to the two ex-partners of the smaller one.
It’s not like Ed said, " YOU should kill Jim and Jerome. " He meddled in his personal and emotional life, and was looking for some kind of hold he knew he didn’t have. And it couldn’t have been about Lee’s protection, cause he also had quoted Jerome. In conclusion : he had just proved what the clown was bragging about a few hours earlier. No matter what his former chief of staff claimed, he was felting far too involved in Oswald’s relationship with his own partners. Thus, his powerlessness in the face of the situation was making him sick with jealousy.

« Really, Ed ? » he laughed, his smile never waning. « For a man more interested by his own lack of participation in this game than by the torments of others, you don't look very pleased. Would you really want to kill the people you use as shields here ? Jerome, Jim and I only are victims and you, from your pride, you come to ask for accounts ? Even Jerome is'nt this funny ! »

« You are not a victim. » the man in green replied, his fists clenched. The tone Oswald was using seemed definitely too detached and presumptuous towards him. « Have you ever thought about all the evil you have spread ? About the people you've caused to suffer ? About the relationships you have broken ? No, of course not. Because it doesn’t matter. After all, it’s just you. It’s always YOU. You're anything but a victim, and you deserve what happens to you here ! » he ended up grumbling.

Oswald raised an eyebrow, astonished by the sudden gain in eloquence of the man in front of him. So, he suddenly stopped stammering in the middle of each sentence using more than a verb-subject-complement ? Interesting. Much more interesting than anything else he could tell him. After all, what right did he have to reproach him ? Ed also wasn't an example to follow, as far as he knew. He had made people suffer : Jim, Tabitha, Butch... Lee. He'd broken theses relationships. The only relationship that Oswald had allowed himself to break was theirs. And it was about him, so didn’t he have some right to it ?

« … Ah, I see. » he smiled, looking bolder than ever. « Still mad about what I did to that huge plothole, which was Isabell - »

« DON’T TALK ABOUT HER ! » Ed yelled by grabbing him by the lapel of his jacket, pulling him toward him.

Too close. They were too close.

« Otherwise, what ?! » the gangster spit, not looking down. How could he still be so furious at him ? « The one you used to call " The love of your life " is dead, so move on. As far as I’m concerned, we’re even with this story so leave me alone ! Why don’t you just live your perfect pretty life with Lee in the Narrows and leave me alone ? No, instead you’re sending me your stupid rapped riddles ! » He continued by frowning, his mocking expression turning into pure concentrate of rage.

Ed opened his mouth to answer, but again he seemed unable to respond anything making sense. However, he kept his grip on the leather jacket, holding it as if he wanted to destroy it by the sheer force of his grip.

« Gentlemen, I would like to announce that for the final round... »

Shit, this was just too much. Oswald didn’t even pay attention to what was going on around them, being able to feel all the pressure accumulated since their arrival. The fear of having been confronted with his desires. The anguish of having to yield to the need for affect. The drunkenness of provoking a war, the satisfaction of pushing a man against the wall. The impression that every moment was playing with him. Jim’s ambivalence. Jerome’s madness. And then there was Ed. Confronting him withount any ideas of what he had to go through. Standing there, high-strung and wounded in his ego, using brute force and old reproaches to hold him back.

« I’ll leave you the choice of the next duet. »

Then he burst out with a bad laugh. It was so sudden that Ed couldn’t help looking at him with an expression that was both worried and terrified, but he just couldn’t control it. He'd never had such an extreme reaction confronting the accumulated pressure... but he felt exhausted. He was achy everywhere ; almost sure that his body or mind would let him go at any moment.

« Oswald ? Are you... are you sure you’re okay ? » the tallest muttered, gradually releasing the leather jacket. « Because... no offense, but you’re freaking out. »

At these words, he stopped. His dying laughter only leaving room for a look that would probably could've killed Ed on the spot. Or freezing him, but it seemed a bit too satirical in the current context of things.
No, Oswald couldn’t allow anyone to talk to him like that, to brutalize him in this way. And certainly not the one who already had allow himself to make his life an emotional hell. As his smile was stretching in an unhealthy rictus, he slowly resumed :

« I swear to God, the next time you catch me like this, Edward Nygma... » he began, his teeth clenched and his tone morbid. « I’ll bite your hand off with my teeth and I’ll make you eat it. »

The green-dressed man opened his mouth while inhaling, seeming absolutely threatened by his words. Threats were not a first between them... But the most alarming thing was that right there, by Oswald's face expression, he probably knew that he would be perfectly capable. And for good reason, it was certainly not the lack of technical means that would prevent the criminal from making him regret his actions.

« I-You... » he just stammered before being cut off by the voice of the loudspeaker, sounding as punitive as the last judgement :

« If that’s what you want, gentlemen. You’ll be delighted to hear... »

Oswald suddenly realized that the door to the final trial was open. Since how long ? He hadn't heard anything, far too focused on the argument. And at the man's face was pulling in front of him, it seemed reciprocal. Did that mean-

« … that your path is advanced. »

Chapter Text

Some notes, soft and languid. Arpeggios, an harmonic flight, a dramatic decrescendo. That’s all they would need.

After having been chosen for the event, Riddler and Penguin had naturally moved towards the door and then, without a word, had gone to change in their respective dressing rooms.
The man, usually so comfortable in a green suit, was surprised to have found a set of clothes sticking to the skin of the eccentric young nerd he once been.
And it was with a certain disgust that he had put on this cream-coloured braided sweater over his dull shirt, leaving only the collar exceed under his Adam’s apple. Matching : a simple brown jean and waxed shoes slightly too small that he hoped to be able to remove quickly.

Even if, in hindsight, he had thought it might have been designed for Jim. Their shoe size difference seemed to match... And now that he thought of it, hadn't their captor more or less foreseen the turn of each stage ? Each garment had been made for and had the correct size of each participants, and it was sworn that falling purely by chance on Oswald's size measurement was not a valid option. So, if these shoes weren’t his size... maybe the man who was originally expected wasn’t Ed ?

No. That was not an possible.

Riddler believed in fate, and it was the latter who had unconsciously reunited them again. Why Jim even would have been chosen ? Had he not caused enough harm ? Between Oswald's first trial, and the feelings of Lee which-
Oh, no. Did he had just... did he'd just compare the two of them ? To think about their black hair, their nature as intriguing as they are unbearable in everyday life, their dark outfits, that ounce of clarity against which they could never fight... Had he even been interested in Lee before all these changes ? Or were it these that he'd first liked ? And this attraction to the blue-sweet-eyed cop; why were there so many similarities between…

" Enough ! " he had swore while tapping his foot on the ground while his thin and trembling fingers kept playing nervously with the collar of his shirt. No. It was unthinkable. His love for the nurse could not be so superficial, so counterfeit...
And Jim Gordon could go fuck himself. After all, he wasn’t worth a tenth of what the smartest man in Gotham had to offer ! Because this time, there must been no more intrusive thoughts. It was between him, and Oswald.

On this assertion, Riddler had then looked in the mirror. He had tried in vain to fix his hair, while the frame of his glasses begged him to straighten it as quickly as possible. " This lock of hair is so long. " he had thought. " Ed should pay more attention to our appearance. " After all, he wasn’t alone. And the fight with Jim hadn't arranged anything, the sweat generated having formed light curls on his forehead.
Then he'd went over the few bruises that were covering his face, the only visible patch of his skin. A rookie on his cheekbone, a few scratches here and there on his jaw... traces of blood on his damaged lips.

The Riddler grimaced when the piano's hammers, controlled by his nimble fingers, struck a dissonant sound. His mind was definitely elsewhere since Ed had left him his place…

He had followed the long corridor to the next door he would meet. It was black and imposing, and the way it slided was probably reminiscent of how Ed used to enter in his apartment.

Because it was his apartment.

A reproduction, without a doubt, but it was indeed the two-rooms he'd became accustom to call his " home " during his years of service with the Gotham Police. The same home that had welcomed his new " him ", encouraged by... someone he had become accustomed to admire, more or less in silence. He then had heard water running and, because there was no rain outside, thought that his event partner was taking a shower. And that didn’t even had surprised him, after what he had to endure in the last few hours. Well, it was for the best. Ed also had no intention of sharing his smell with that of the cop and the ginger one.

The floor had creaked when he had decided to engage the step inward, not without thinking of closing the door behind him. Everything was there, in its place and crying out for truth.
On the left, a chair in uncomfortable green leather leaning against the brick wall, itself decorated with paintings of the worst taste. On his right, the big cheesy checkered bed they had used, the mirror fixed above his dresser, the dark curtain separating the main room from his bathroom.
A few more big steps towards the center of the room and he had rediscovered his small sofa and tartan cushions. The dark metal pillars separating him from the wooden table on which they had became accustom to eating, his beloved work surface when he was taking the time to cook.

Even if in truth, he had thanked the lamps with pale lighting to allow him to locate himself. It was daylight, here was not the problem... but forced to realize that the large windows of its habitat had never really allowed light to exploit its full potential. The building was facing north, where glow was the lowest. Thus, some objects such as the arrow sign with the blinding neons placed against the air conditioning or these, in this green so dear to his heart, large buildings of the city allowed a better clarity.

He had turned to face the piano, joining it in a few uncertain steps. He had laid his hand on the freshly varnished wood. It was surprising to constate that in view of the time spent since the last day he had played it, it should have collapsed under a thick layer of dust... but nothing, the instrument was exactly as he had left it before being locked up in Arkham. His doubts were confirmed when he stroked the keys with his fingertips. They were of a softness and an impeccable white, while the material would have tended to turn yellow with time. Was he really in his small loft, or had they all been victims of a temporal journey to the past ? The more he was looking for the culprit of this whole charade, the less it seemed to make sense. And while he at it, he had finally decided to let himself think of something else.

And so the Riddler was there, sitting on the bench and playing whatever was going through his head to wait. The minor harmonic scale in disorder, whose oriental sounds was making him travel beyond the dark and cold streets of Gotham. A simplistic piece for piano alone, that Ed had learned as a child. A waltz rhythm accompanying a melody that he slowly began to hum. Melancholy chords he'd heard, engraved on an old vinyl by Ella Fitzgerald…

" My Funny Valentine. "

BROUM

The Riddler struck a viciously discordant chord, Oswald's voice behind him surprising him enough that he came out of the bubble he had created for himself. Unfortunately for him, his little tour in the past would not have delayed the confrontation they feared...
And yet he swore that his voice contained no hint of ill intent. It was clear, determined. Almost slightly impatient... And so easily recognizable.

" That’s what you were playing, wasn’t it ? " he continued as the other man was swiveling on the bench to face him.

Oswald was standing next to the sofa, his hands in the pockets of a wide black cotton pants. The green hoodie that he was wearing had to be at least twice his size, and he didn’t even have shoes. This set was far from what he had been accustomed to wear with Jim and Jerome, but Riddler did'nt doubt that he had'nt complained about it for a single second while putting it on.

" Yes. " the man sitting on the bench simply replied, uncertain of the remaining animosity of their last exchange in the main room. " You know it ? "

" Everyone knows this song, you idiot. " Oswald replied in a stern tone as he made his way to the piano.

He leaned against the right side of it, allowing the pianist a more in-depth expertise of his current physical.
His black hair was not yet completely dry, the volume leaving them slightly ruffled. His skin was natural, and Riddler marvelled at the fact that he'd forgotten that Oswald had tiny freckles on his cheekbones and bridge of his nose. He had noticed it when he'd taken him home the night of their second meeting. Examining him very closely may had its advantages... and disadvantages.
His eye scanner left his partner’s face to stare at the invisible hips that were at his height. He always used to think that he was too thin for his height. And Arkham didn't seem to have made things right, his frail shoulders probably bearing the weight of his sweater.
How terrible this must have been, to the point of just letting himself starve to death ?

" Can you... can you keep playing ? " Oswald went on without taking his gaze off from the white and black keys, seeming uncomfortable with being auscultated in total silence.

Slowly, Riddler refocused his attention on the keyboard and rested his hands on it. Did Oswald still like to hear him play ?
He was silently hoping, in a corner of his head, that this was the real reason for his request. But, somewhere, agreeing to believe it was causing him a strange feeling of envy. Didn't he should rather feel some pride misplaced in being rewarded for his talent ? Especially coming from his enemy, it was... to say at least disturbing.
And as he began to make the sweet chords sound again under the pressure of his fingers, his voice rosed in a daring interrogation :

" Are you going to sing ? "

He didn’t mean to imply that he liked his phrasing. He certainly did not want him to think that the hours spent harmonizing together in his apartment were missing to him, even a bit. And he was afraid of an equally bold answer, resembling << Only if you want me to. >> . The young pianist wasn't sure of being able to respond to it otherwise than by a clumsy smile and a slight nod of head.
Fortunately, Oswald’s answer happened to be even more cruel.

" ... You're my funny valentine, sweet comic valentine. " he began without much conviction, before lifting up his head to look at Ed’s face. " You make me smile with my heart. "

Riddler slightly opened his mouth to concentrate on what he was actually playing. It had nothing to do with the work's context, or the way the other man was interpreted it in the same amused and languid tone as the original. In the same tone that he certainly knew how to reproduce some Amy Whinehouse...

" Your looks are laughable, un-photographable. "

... Was he making fun of him ? Sure, Ed was struggling to maintain a decent look and he was still banged up after the argument against Gordon... But Riddler knew how to have style ! It was petty to insinuate that... it was just the original lyrics and that he was probably worrying for nothing.
He still raised his head to look at him, wanting to ensure that these were only false accusations. But Oswald was looking out the window with a slight smile on his face :

" Yet, you're my favorite work of art. "

... Oh. So he was taking it that way ? Was he even aware of how all of this seemed to make sense to them ? Probably not. Although, he knew Oswald was smart enough to have fun without having to justify what he was saying. Or do, by the way... fucking cotton candy. It was so... petty.
But this little game only could be fun if they were both participating, couldn’t it ? So before he had time to continue, Riddler sang on a range more bass than the one of his partner :

" Is your figure less than greek ? Is your mouth a little weak ? When you open it to speak... "

" - Are you smart ? " Oswald cut him off while again taking his interest in him, letting their gaze meet.

He’ll lie pretending he didn’t care. And at the same time, Riddler loved these innuendoes, these rhetorical puzzles of which he was never sure of the authenticity. And it had to be admitted that if there was a master in this matter, it was indeed the Penguin. To Arkham... his letter had been of such subtlety that he had been impressed, never able to believing him capable of such a scheme. But as often, it was underestimating the criminal.

" But don't change a hair for me. Not if you care for me. " the logistician resumed of his low voice, pressing with more enthusiasm the keys whose sounds rang louder. " Stay little valentine, stay ! "

They loved music. But Riddler even more loved singing to evacuate his buried demons, those against which the pitiful little nerd with whom he was currently sharing his brain refused to fight. Why did he never bother to confront them, to understand them ? Oswald had saved their lives, for God’s sake ! And despite that, they still only ever had eyes for Lee. This profiteer hadn't even treated them and he had fallen for what ? Was it for her dark beauty, her boundless goodness, her knowledge or her intelligence ? Bullshit ! It was not to her that he was owning all his genius !

She-devil had coorted him, keep him away from his own course of action and one of these days, would make them regret for good. He knew it, and that was the only thing he was really afraid of… To be left to his fate, abandoned by love. May all the hopes he had in his relationship with Lee depend in reality only on her.
And it was this latter that pushed him to slow down the sequence of his fingers on the keyboard, straightening his head as his voice gradually died at the last word uttered. " Stay ". Was it for her, or for Oswald ? Another unanswered question... Even Ed, however clever, would be unable to bring a solution to this hopeless situation. And while the latter was concluding the song last's words :

" Each day is valentine's... "

The man so far seated has slowly get up, leaving his left hand on the keyboard to accompany some notes at the end of the song. It was just... hypnotic. Infernal. He was feeling both fully aware of what he was doing and totally uncertain.
Was it normal to ask himself so many questions? To be constantly so distressed by the attention he could receive from Lee, to envy the least of her approval ? The answer was there, but he choose to remain deaf. Perhaps out of security. Or out of envy, once again. The desire to have someone you trust, who can love and show it to him

His right hand landed on the top of the piano and his body has naturally aligned with that of the smallest, who was completing his sentence :

" ... day ? "

But this declamation was more sounding like a hidden question like << Can you tell what you're doing, with your arms on either side of my shoulders ? >>
But it wasn’t like Riddler was gonna answer him. It was still far too early for him to admit in person his attraction to him, preferring action to rhetoric. And his irises, so dark when his back was turned to the lights of the apartment, did not delay to settle down on what he desired the most.

If his mind was refusing to move away from Lee, he would force his body to remember Oswald.

‘Cause he wanted his soul. He wanted his words, his macabre intonation, his perfect speech when he was speeking to a crowd. This voice much clearer than his that had just seduced him again, burning his muscles to force him to move towards him. And to get it, he had several choices.
However, although he was impatient to do so, his hands did not deign to slip up to his neck. They seemed attached to the edge of the piano, taunting Ed for his cowardice.

His reflection smiled, now aware that he would be the sole master of his actions during the entire trial. It was atrociously pleasant to be able to control every part of his anatomy, even if part of his skull caused him unpleasant headaches. Well, it was little when he had his best rival in front of him, prisoner and waiting for some reaction from his partner.
Riddler was surprised that he was so passive, showing no desire to fight or to escape. It didn’t sound like him, but did he really have time to ask himself that kind of question when his time was running out ? No he didn’t.

Riddler slightly bent down forward, leaning on the piano to find balance. He saw that Oswald was beginning to tilt his body in the opposite direction, taking a more defensive stance. Was he afraid ? No : his pleated eyes and slightly frowned eyebrows were betraying something else. But then, did he understand what the Riddler was trying to do ?

" Look at me. " he suddenly ordered, forcing the gangster to raise his head to answer it.

And he took the opportunity to bend down further, his forearms resting on the top of the piano while his chest brushed against that of the other man. Now that their faces were lined up, nothing could separate him from what he wanted.
If Jim was having Lee’s lips, Riddler would have those of the man he hated the most.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, making his approach more explicit than it already was. He waited a few seconds, at the risk of not having correctly predicted Oswald’s reaction, and he felt that he was moving. But when he opened his eyes, the latter was no longer there, having cleverly snuck under his arm to… get around it ? Wh-

With a rapid movement, Riddler turned around to face him, astouned air and gaping mouth. Did he really… just refuse him ?! Impossible ! He had handed him a colossal perche, how could he even-

" You... we can’t do THAT. " Penguin said in rush, hands forward as if he was expected a violent reaction from the man in front of him." It’s the stated rule for this tria- "

" Excuse me ?! " Riddler barked, the emotional elevator beating him from the inside. " And contact is also prohibited ? Or are you just looking for excuses to avoid me ? As if the others had to respect some stupid rules, you’re messing with me ! "

But in response, Oswald crossed his arms and frowned. No doubt for the purpose of returning a harsh image of himself... but forced to see that it didn't really work; considering the rest of his appearance. In fact, he was looking more frustrated by the accusations against him than really angry, as if Riddler disappointed him by his poor knowledge of the circumstances.

" No offense to your oversized ego, but I’ve just given too much to these kinds of situations today. But if you like to play the repelling ginger, please go on ! " He mocked while making reappear this nasty corner smile that the man in green was seeing too often these days. " And yes, there were other rules. So you’ll be nice to stay away, far away from my face now. Understand ? "

And to these words, he walked towards the bed and almost let himself fell on it ; leaving Riddler alone with his frustration.
Is that all he had to say ? He had just... proposed the impossible, tried the most sincere approach he could afford, and Oswald just rejected it ? All this to prefer the warmth of a mattress to that of a man!
He hadn't even seemed disappointed or embarrassed, simply disillusioned by the bold approach that the logistician had allowed himself towards him. Of course, he knew Oswald was particularly full of himself, even very proud when the situation allowed him...

But… now that he was thinking about it, it had been hours since the gangster had a moment of respite. One did not have to be an astrophysicist to know that fatigue tended to affect the behavior or thoughts of Humans. And for good reason, the latter was not as lively as usual. Riddler could say it by the way that he was fixing the ceiling without initiating any topic of conversation, his expression empty as possible. Or was it simply because it had just ruined the whole atmosphere that they had so much trouble installing in the last few minutes.

However, the tallest one moved to the refrigerator. He wasn't particularly hungry himself, theses emotional roller coaster having cut his appetite today. But he thought that his partner’s lack of energy could come from the lack of food. After all, he couldn't remember seeing him eat once on the security cameras and that was making him a bit worried.
" Empty... " he noticed when opening the door to the fridge. And thanks god ! Everything would probably have rotted otherwise. But perhaps he was wrong again, judging by the fruit basket waiting on the kitchen counter. Was it his apartment, yes or no ?

" What are you doing ? " Penguin questioned, his clear eyes again turned to the tallest man.

From his peripheral vision, Riddler could see him slowly righting himself. He seemed really intrigued by the way he was picking up the apple and checking it's health, as if it was an act to hurt him.
Oh, of course, poisoning Oswald would have been easy. But his goal was obviously different. And despite what one might think, the idea of sleeping with a corpse wasn't a particularly widespread fantasy among medical examiners. After all... it’s not like he’s ever seen him half-naked, half-dead, in his own bed after only two brief verbal exchanges. And even if he had, wouldn’t he just have to hide it behind a purely biological interest ?

" You should eat. " The scientist answered by shooking his head, trying as best he could to limit his intrusive thoughts.

He then left the kitchen, only after making sure that his partner would not fear anything by swallowing the fruit. But when his legs touched the edges of the bed, Oswald frowned again and moved to find his back to the wall.

" I’m not hungry. And if I was you, I wouldn’t touch what some crazy psycho-voyeur dropped there. "

" Don’t be like that. " the logistician growled by sitting on the mattress, far too aware of the paranoid spirit which sometimes gave reason to the exaggerated distrust of Penguin. " Jim was in great shape despite the alcohol in his blood and the clown didn’t get sick with his cotton candy, so there’s no reason for you to die because of an apple. "

He held out the fruit to him, not without silently grinding teeth. Mentioning the two other men was only making him more bitter inside, the depths of this touch of jealousy stirring in his guts.
He shouldn’t even be thinking about it ! It was up to Ed to cope with these destructive emotions. And not... not to him. He was able to manage his emotions and focus on what was really important, there, at that moment.
He knew that he was safe and that deep down, it was him that Penguin was loving above all. And rightly so : he was far above any being who had been around the gangster lately, wasn’t he? And then, Oswald had told him so ! It was he who'd called him, who had asked for his help to escape from Arkham.

There was a time when Ed was Lee’s only object of affection, where Riddler actually thought that.

He had thought that their relationship was already more than just a partnership, and Riddler had felt much more deserving than all these potential piranhas. Jim, this professional kiss-ass of blows in the back. Jerome, this crazy guy who had probably enjoyed his little life in Arkham. And, of course, Ed... Ed, who deserved nothing. Ed who had allowed himself to deny him as a dirty man, to flee his own identity. << Lee understands me, she sees me as I really am ! She loves who I am, without you. >>

He had ruined everything.

And because of that, Ed had started by poisoning his mind. Had made him think he was loving Lee, too. Had made him feel these butterflies in the stomach, this boundless worship. But now that he was in front of Oswald... he was starting to question again the fact that he was feeling something true for her. Everything indicated that he was also loving Lee: Jealousy. Kissing. Comfort. Tenderness. Trust. So many words that were describing their relationship and that he loved to feel.
Yet, since he had found himself here, none of his thoughts were dedicated to her. There was only one name that was pounding his brain, and it seemed that the more trials followed, the more it was resonating in his head.

But it was too late. His torments would now prevent him from being silent. And so he murmured the sentence too much when the small one decided to catch what he was tending to him :

" And if you still haven’t felt anything after licking that stick, I guess you’re safe. "

Chapter Text

They froze, their arms extended towards each other in monastic silence.

But what the hell was he thinking ? Stupid tongue ! Stupid Ed, and stupid brain that only was doing as he pleased !
Of course it was tempting to question him about his relationship with Jerome, but not in that way ! And now, Riddler was absolutely sure that he had made all the worst choices in less than half an hour. Dammit.
But refusing to remain on a total failure, the cogs of his brain started to analyzed the real stakes of what he had just said.

Had Oswald deliberately tried to make him jealous through the others ? It definitely sounded like him. That was both perfidious and insightful, after all.
But... he couldn’t believe that was the case with Jim. As much as his relationship with Jerome was superficial at best, the one with the cop often proved to be... way too honest for his liking. What motivated their fuck was neither jealousy nor envy. It was definitely something that none of them would ever talk to him about, making it a secret that he would love to unravel...

"... That was so weird that I’m not even going to ask you any questions. " Oswald finally answered, catching the apple that was stretched out to him. " Isn’t there any knife here ? "

So, he was admitting. But they'll probably had to talk about it later. If he wanted to avoid the subject, it was that talking about it would definitely not make the atmosphere more pleasant.
So the tallest contented with a sigh of indignation, putting the gangster's stupid question on the account of his fatigue. How could Oswald be so smart and dumb at the same time ? Any object used as a weapon couldn't be made available to them voluntarily, otherwise they would let one less participant. Besides, perhaps it was time they addressed this topic, at 3/4 of the game.

" It wouldn’t have been smart to leave us both in a potentially deadly room, would it ? " he replied before putting his hands on his own shoes, grimacing.

God, they were so uncomfortable ! It was decidedly not his size... so he went about undoing the laces in a few agile finger movements, finally releasing a deep sigh of relief when his feet were freed from their polished cage.
Riddler took the opportunity to gain field on the bed, so that his right leg was folded on the mattress while the other was still oriented towards the ground. Then he raised his head to question Oswald, who was quietly watching him while biting into the apple :

" So ? "

" So what ? " the gangster replied, still so unfriendly. " It is not deadly, and that’s good for you. Cause if that was, I swear I would've ensure that my ghost come to haunting you night and day ; just to make feel guilty the filthy presomptuous bastard you are. "

His ghost, isn’t it ?

Riddler wanted to smile like a devil but, although he was aware of what his partner didn't know, something was preventing this unhealthy smile to form on his lips. It was in his stomach, in his guts ; like a rope too tightly wrapped around his abdomen. A rope on which it was written: << I know you missed me, Ed Nygma. >>
This fear was that Oswald might be manipulating him. And like the snake biting its tail, the fact that Riddler was being psychotical about it just kept maintain that fear ; tightening the rope.

It was stupid to think that ; to expect that Oswald might know about his hallucinations and play them. He was dead when it happened ! Well, only presumed dead. In reality, he could never imagine even a tenth of what he and Ed had gone through in their denial, and, paradoxically, Riddler was longing to tell him. It was a forbidden temptation, he knew it : to reveal all this to his enemy would be like digging his own grave. But he was so curious to see his reaction, to know what he would think of it, if he would feel any sympathy or pity. Yes, he wanted to know... but when his mouth was opening, it was the rope that was distorting his words.

" The presumptuous bastard that I am deserves more thanks, if you ask me. Cause you can make all the effort you want to try to make me think you're in full possess of yourself... " he argued before looking down on the oversized sweatshirt. " ... I know you don't have enough motivation or energy to handle anything with me. That's the truth, isn't it ? "

He moved again, so that he was seated right in front of his interlocutor. It was a sincere movement as he wanted to be open to discussion and worthy of the minimum of union trust that the situation was requiring. This was probably hypocritical on his part, but what else was there to do when he knew full well that Oswald was openly closed and fleeing from him by fear of their interactions ? The silence he was now inflicting on him was just another example. Then he had no choice but to go on :

" Why aren’t you answering ? "

Oswald turned his clear gaze to the opposite wall, and Riddler thought he would never hear him make any sound again. But this absurd aprehension was immediately swept away by the clarity of his voice :

" There's nothing to answer. " he began, before taking a short break. " You should stop thinking that all your questions deserve an answer, Ed. "

<< Ed >> ... it was weird, being called that. Whereas time was requiring them to revert to the status of mere acquaintances, Oswald had never ceased to call him that. Or maybe he wasn’t even thinking about it, that this was the only way he may name him ? However, he knew very well that Ed was currently divided in two, and that he was playing a poker move by betting on which side was talking with him.

Riddler raised his hand from the blanket and levitated it a few moments above his partner’s green sweater, trying to make the point between his thoughts and what he had to do. Would he be rejected by the slightest contact or inappropriate gesture ? Or was he the one who, assuming the small one was weak, was actually annoying him ? He didn't know at all what to expect from Oswald ; for if he was predictable about actions guided by his emotions, he was much less so when the said emotions were unknown. And Riddler didn’t have much of an idea of what the man in front of him might feel right now : Anger ? Fear ? Disgust? Contempt, perhaps ? This must have justified his refusal to kiss him...

" How much longer do you plan to stay in this stance ? It looks like you’re preparing an exorcism ritual. " Oswald mumbled while chewing a piece of apple, looking bored. " If so, wake me up when it'll be over. "

His speech being tinged with irony, it acts as a lever on the Riddler's muscles. He put his hand on the cotton that was covering his partner’s belly, then began to brush the area ; exerting light pressure in an attempt to feel the muscles below. Cause for him, it was an anatomical touch : he did not like the way Oswald always had to deviate from the subject when it suited him. But it was surely a politician’s reflex.... some sort of self-protection.

" If that’s what I wanted to do, I would have wear priest’s clothes. Just to make it more credible... " he replied a few seconds later, concentrated on his blind inspection. He was surprised not to find him too thin as he expected, but he blamed it on the double layer of clothing. So he must have been right and confirmed his first hypothesis. " No but seriously, what do you eat every day ? Even those poors from the Narrows must have a more stable BMI than yours. "

" But I have NO problem with that ! " his improvised patient said, a touch of annoyance now feeding his words. " And even if I did, I don’t see how that would be wrong. This is the second time in a quarter that you’ve tell me about nutritional problems, but since when have medical examiners been health experts ? Since you’re interested in dead people, maybe you should really consider yourself becoming a priest... "

Riddler smiled, savoring the direction their conversation was taking. Moreover, for unknown reasons to him, Oswald had not yet rejected his hand or commented on it. Maybe it was just fatigue... but he didn’t think it was enough to shake his self-defense reflexes. Clearly not.
He moved his hand again, attempting to slip it under the sweatshirt. What was the point of touching it if the thickness of the cotton was preventing him from being precise ? Through a T-shirt or a shirt, he could probably establish a much more correct assessment of his physiognomy.

" In fact priests don't communicate with the dead, but the necromancers can... ah ? "

When Riddler put his hand under the sweater, he was being surprised not to touch what he was expecting. The material was not voluble, but fixed. Either it wasn't rough against his palm, but rather soft. It was hot. And, if his career in bodies' manipulation wasn’t deceiving him, it was actually feeling strangely like... Wait. Skin ? Was he touching his body ?

" I thought that... " he began by raising his head, his sudden confusion replaced by worry.

Oswald had stopped breathing. He knew it, for the hand which was now resting on his stomach was motionless, and had just come down again, according to the mechanism of breath's exhalation. Of course, this automatic body reaction could mean several things : surprise, fear, mortification... But no matter how many possibilities there were, none were in his favor. Maybe he should have just taken his hand off and acted like it was all an incident-

" ... Don’t ask me why I wasn’t given a top clothe. I told you : not all questions deserve answers. " the gangster explained before Riddler made his decision, eventually leaving his hand in place. " But no offense... even if I hope it will have this effect : I don’t see necromancers wearing green sequined costumes and causing the death of others themselves, since their goal is to get in touch with them. Might as well talk to them when they’re still ALIVE. Isn’t that right, Ed ? "

More of the provocation ! All this seemed to confirm his thoughts : Oswald was trying to hold on by betting on the attack rather than the defence. But... you had to admit it was working pretty well to destabilize Riddler. When his fingers were precisely touching theses raised lines on his skin...

Scars.

Most were superficial, barely perceptible under his touch. He was losting their track so easily... But others were worse. He could follow them along, feel their roughness against his meticulous fingers pads. It was... such a fascination. Each of these marks was the reflection of a story, a moment in Oswald’s life that he didn't know of, that he hadn't told him. And it was absolutely exhilarating to read it; to try to remember each one of them.

" Bullets leave scars, don’t they ? " he whispered as he was trying to raise his hand a little, absorbed by the urge to see his own. His gash.

But for the first time since he begun to touch him, Oswald stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

" Y-you don't want to know. "

The logistician looked at him again, expecting to be reprimanded in the worst way. And he had his reasons : touching him without much permission when Jerome had only just- No. He shouldn't compare himself to that rapist.
He had to be better cause picking on someone, even on his worst enemy like that, was inhumane. And for god sake... Oswald deserved better than that.
But the latter doesn't said anything, looking to the side and clutching the man's wrist with the only strength he had left. He wasn't looking as much angry as worried, and somewhere in Ed's nervous system, that mattered. It was making him feel something.

Riddler placed his free hand on the mattress and used it to lean forward, now leaving his brow to rest against Oswald's shoulder. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles, becoming aware of his palm still resting on his stomach. It was almost... intimate. It was, in fact. He hadn't felt this close to him during so long that he'd forgotten how it was like.
But he felt Oswald's hand gradually let go of his wrist, pulling more tension out of his body.

" You know I'm easily made aware of what's going on in Gotham, right ? Especially of what you say and do on a daily basis. " he enunciated in the most neutral tone possible. " Decidedly, I guess you could say I'm doing pretty well for a << Little freak >>. "

Riddler opened his mouth to answer, but stumbled without an explanation.
That was a good move. Yes, he had to admit, bringing up things he might have said under different circumstances was an easy card to play. Of course Oswald would have found that stupid chick to be a fan of his own and she would have given him everything he wanted before executing her for taking him out of his ice cube.
But what was making his defense difficult was to admit that he had nothing to do with it. Ed had been entirely in charge at the time, and he had no part in this insult, which he was himself finding incredibly lowbrow. To call him that name when he was now standing there, begging for touching... What a pitiful preparation.

" You cannot blame me for being angry after you've changed me into an ice cube and exposed as a trophy in your bar. " he found to retort, not without gritting his teeth. " Was a bit silly to say that. "

" Just a bit, then. "

" Mmh. " he muttered as he lifted his head, resting his lips on his collarbone. " But I won't apologize for imitating you in the Narrows. That... was intoxicating. "

His shoulders tensed briefly as Oswald was placing his hand on the back of his neck. It was a little... unexpected, but there was no sign of violence or retaliation. Just that the feeling of his palm against his neck was particularly pleasant.
He slightly turned his head, enough to pretend he could open his mouth and bite down on his neck. Of course, not in a way that would hurt him... yet. Just to make it his own ; to push the vice of their closeness ever further.

" I'll figure out a way to make you pay for that later. " the gangster simply replied while Riddler, unable to find the courage to execute himself, stopped his own move. He finally stepped aside, enough to look Oswald in the eyes. The latter continued : " So... What do we do now ? "

" You ask me that like we actually had the choice. " Riddler replied with a frown, feeling trapped by the question.

What was he supposed to say to him ? << Now all we have to do is having sex and hope we will be able to forget about it, like you did with Jim, right? >>
Yes, but it seemed like that was much easier said than done. Even he was feeling on edge just thinking about what they were supposed to do, even though he had experience. He was feeling like a fucking teenager for whom this was the first time, and was asking himself a billion questions about what to do and what not to do, hoping he wouldn't be wrong.

" Were you serious when you said we couldn't... " he began, his gaze deviating almost immediately to his lips. " You know, kiss ? Or was that just to avoid it ? "

" I was serious. " Oswald replied while giving him a disapproving look, his fingers lightly gripping his neck. "And if it ever came to that, a certain person's life would be in danger. So if I ever suspect you of attempting to do it or you ever bring it up again, I swear I'll take anything in this room and I'll use it on your mouth ! "

Amused by his threat, a deep laugh came from Riddler's throat.
Of course Oswald would do it... But he didn't know whether he would like it or not.
On the one hand, he wouldn't be able to use his mouth anymore, even to speak. On the other hand, the idea of being gagged wasn't necessarily bad. It was even rather... experimental.
Thinking about this idea, he finally found the urge to go through with it. He leaned back and put his lips on Oswald's neck, his right hand still resting on his stomach. And he continued to enjoy touch contrasts : the simple fact that his upper body was feeling something soft, while his hand was touching the same but irregular material was making him impervious to any external distraction.

He took advantage on the fact that the gangster tilted his head in the opposite direction to open his mouth more, trying to plant his canines in the resistant fabric of his skin.
He wanted to have him from the outside, as well as from the inside. Maybe even taste his blood ? To feel it run over his tongue, merge with his own saliva.
But Riddler eventually gave up on that idea, simply planting a kiss where the mark of his teeth had sunk into the skin. He was already beginning to feel hard, and he exhaled a hot breath as he thought about how he was even capable of being that way through simple representations.

" It feels weird, being in this place. " Oswald murmured, as the logistician was busy reassembling the sweatshirt a bit.

He looked at the exposed skin, an uneven mixture of grayish white created by the dull lighting of the windows and pinkish orange from the lamps. The scars were blended in with the colors. His eyes were riveted to these, yet they were remaining invisible to him.

" It's primarily a weird CHOICE. I hate this place. " Riddler replied, his thumb moving in a circular motion.

Then he bent down, almost lying down so that his face was leveling with the other man's stomach. After all... if he couldn't see these, he could always find other ways to feel these.
He moved his hands to his sides, applying light pressure with his thumbs on his hips. Then, he placed his lips on that patch of raised skin he had just touched, before tracing it with the tip of his tongue.

" Do you think so ? " Oswald swallowed, his hips barely moving. " I think... I think I like this place. "

" What- " Riddler chocked, lifting his head to look at Oswald.

But he was surprised by the fact that the latter was also looking at him, suddenly becoming a little shy as he noticed the attention he was paying to him. It didn't make sense... for him to look at him now, when he was doing something so intimate ! And why did he have to look so pretty, with that messy black hair and freckles that stood out when his skin reddened ?

" You-you can't be serious. You who are used to big houses and luxury, how could you like... " he finally formulated, lowering his head and speaking between each of the kisses he was leaving on his skin, tracing the path : " This pitiful apartment ? " On the edge of his pants ... " Tiny, cold and lonely. " His hips... " Paid with the pitiful wages, " His waist... " Of a thankless employment ! A real ordeal. " His navel... " Merciless colleagues. " His chest... " And a refractory love interest. "

He finally rested his hands on the mattress, pressing his palms together to straighten up and reach Oswald's face. But this one had lowered his eyes on the apple that he was still holding in his left hand, making it turn.
In this way, Oswald was suddenly looking perfectly master of his means. His gaze was anything but passive, his blue irises seemingly alerted by the way he was searching for his words. Moreover, he was making an effort to keep the conversation going, and the few previous details in his body posture seemed to encourage Riddler in his search for touch.

" It's not about that. It's not about the size, or the environment of this apartment. Or even the people connected to it, or how you got it. " Oswald continued, without even pointing out the other man's uncontrolled rhymes.
He did, however, undertake to raise his forearm, bringing the apple to his lips. " It's just... I have good memories there. Just like at my mother's house. It may be quaint or tacky or awful to you... For me, it's a place where I feel good. It's a place where I feel like I'm at home. "

He concluded his words by biting into the apple, his gaze falling back on that of the logistician.
So... Oswald was considering this place as a home, while himself was preferring to deny it ? Him, its owner ?
He thought about why, when he realized that he didn't even know if he had a place like this. He didn't like the Narrows any more than this apartment. It was Lee's home, but he didn't even feel like he belonged there. And every other place he could think of belonged either to Oswald or to the community.

And then, he understood.

It wasn't a question of belonging, but of connections. Oswald was talking about memories, but it takes people to create them ! His mother and himself, in this case.
So what made the richness of these places that the bird was loving, were... the people he loved. Oswald loved this place, because they had gotten to know each other there. Because he'd cared for him, as if in some kind of sanctuary. And here, in this room, they had cultivated their friendship.

[ -I love Lee. I really love her. I's about the important events that we had together. Strong feelings that we once shared. Maybe you understand that, but I still feel the need to protect her even though she does it very well on her own. If anything ever happened to her, it would drive me crazy... ]

Riddler felt his heart pounding, and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream. For the mere realization that this still meant something important to them was making him euphoric. Uncontrollable.
He moved the hands that were resting on Oswald's hips to his shoulders, and leaned forward. Then he opened his mouth.

And crunched in the fruit.