Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ed has turned off the siren and blue light a few blocks before he reached his current hideout. His plan has worked out just the way he has intended, which never fails to get him into a good mood, as worried as he might be about the state of his sole passenger. But he will get him back on track, he’s sure of it, rolling in through the huge steel doors and closing them up again via remote once the ambulance is safely parked. He gets out and sheds the white lab coat he’d quickly thrown over his police uniform when he’d stolen the emergency vehicle, and leaves it on the driver’s seat, then walks to the car’s back door and opens up.

There he is: Gotham’s most powerful crime lord, knocked out and battered in his dirty half torn suit. Ed pulls out the stretcher and leans over to check if Oswald is still breathing- he is, loud and labored, but very much alive- well his injuries certainly weren’t life-threatening, as horrid as he looks with the black eye and bruises across his face. He also has an obvious gun shot wound on one upper arm. Any other body parts will have to be assessed asap.

“Hey there. Seen better days, have you. Luckily, you’re pretty much unkillable” he says to Oswald’s stagnant face and giggles at the made-up word. There’s a few things from the ambulance he figures he will need to treat Oswald- medical scissors, forceps, gauzes, disinfectant- and he quickly drops them onto the stretcher next to Oswald’s legs, then starts rolling the gurney across the hall.

The warehouse is filled with various things- from simple furniture, things Ed’s taken apart or parts he still needs for all his unfinished projects, to those paintings he stole from an art gallery the week before, and more sensitive equipment like explosives and chemicals. On the far side of the vast cluttered hall there’s a video wall and a desk with a few computers- it’s sort of his day to day living area, with a sofa beside it and another table facing the only usable entry to the warehouse, where he usually works on his knick-knacks and traps. A small cubicle is separated from the hall by an 8 foot high half wall with a door, leading to a little room with a kitchenette- where he’s placed a queen sized bed- and an adjoining bathroom. This is where he’s taking Oswald, whistling as he goes along.

He’d slipped the man some painkillers and a sedative when he’d loaded him into the ambulance, so he’s sure Oswald will be a calm and complying patient for a little while. Ed remembers Oswald having been almost unconscious already when he had found him in the back of a cop car about an hour earlier. It won’t do to give into his rage now though, so he shoves that memory to the back of his mind so he can think clearly while tending to Oswald’s injuries. He’s used to that- suppressing his emotions when he has a task at hand.

With the stretcher next to the bed, he sheds his police jacket and arranges all the medicine and bandages in a neat little row on the bedside table. Then he gets the scissors. Surely Oswald has enough fancy suits so he won’t mind this one having to go- especially with how much damage it apparently has taken anyway. The jacket and shirt are the first victims, two incisions straight through either sleeve and, what the heck- cutting is quicker than unbuttoning the front- and he’s met with Oswald’s bare upper body, which is black and blue, but at least no gashes or wounds. Ed catches himself staring, and not just at the injuries.

Oswald has dropped quite some weight since his last release from prison- Ed wonders if this isn’t the thinnest he’s ever seen the man, and if Oswald has been under a lot of stress lately. It is very probable, what with the man responsible for Oswald being bruised haunting the city every night. But he plans to offer Oswald a little relaxation during his recovery (or force it onto him) and this little penguin definitely needs to be fed as soon as he’s awake. There’s ideas for meals with the most nutritional value already running through his head as he carefully pulls the remainder of the sleeves off Oswald’s arms.

During the drive Ed hadn’t been able to hear any potential noise Oswald might have made, but since their arrival the man has been calm so far. Ed anticipates a change in that behaviour when he starts tending to Oswald’s arm, and he’s not disappointed- even only assessing the severity of the bullet wound makes Oswald twitch and groan in his unconscious state, but Ed is glad to find it seems to have been more of a grazing shot. The weapon must have been a shotgun though, and the injury is laced with small grains. It will take a while to clean. His arms are also covered in contusions, but there’s no signs of any breaks, which is good.

Oswald really is like a bird, Ed muses, a skinny lithe little thing when it comes down to it, when he’s stripped of all his layers of expensive suits and furs and feathers. He’s all bony joints and pronounced tendons and pale skin interrupted by patches of freckles, and scars- some older, some newer. Ed thinks he seems vulnerable, and dangerously feisty at the same time. It fits his personality very well, and to Ed, he’s all kinds of oddly captivating, always has been, but this is the first time he lets himself think of Oswald as beautiful, even with the bruises and imperfections littering his body. Maybe because of them- they tell his story for him, at least part of it.

He swipes the man’s hair from his forehead and behind his ears. Oswald is hot to the touch, and his skin is moist with sweat. He makes a mental note to get a towel but is ripped out of his thoughts when he notices another injury.

There’s a set of bright marks on Oswald’s neck and Ed can’t hold down a gasp when he sees it, instinctually reaching out and stopping himself at the last moment. Strangely, along with his utter disgust at Oswald being hurt, and rage at the people who did this to him, a conflicting kind of jealousy worms its way into his emotional state. He thinks of how it would feel to wrap his hand around Oswald’s throat, the way he had with Miss Kringle, and Isabella, and to hear Oswald gasp his name. He’s full on shaking as he finally lets himself touch, just a brush of fingertips against the red streaks. How dare anyone touch Oswald like this- anyone but him?

Oswald makes a pained noise that pulls Ed out of his stupor and he mentally slaps himself for getting off track. He clears his throat and goes back to examining the damage. Focusing his attention a little lower, he prods carefully along the worst of the bruises on Oswald’s torso, and listens to the man’s breathing turning even shallower. Oswald moans again and Ed is no doctor but he’s pretty sure there’s some cracked ribs underneath that blue and red canvas. Moving on, Ed removes Oswald’s leg brace and shoes and cuts off the trousers. There does not seem to be much damage to his lower body aside from a scraped knee and of course his bad leg. Ed runs his fingers along it lightly. It’s not exactly every day you get to see old wounds that never properly healed. The fractures hadn’t been set correctly and Ed thinks it must have been hell to live through that without professional medical attention. His shin feels slightly crooked and the skin there is webbed with scars. Ed wonders if it still hurts. What a tough little thing Oswald is.

“Okay” he says to himself and cracks his knuckles.

He gets that towel from his mental notes and makes it wet on one end, then puts on some disposable gloves. Now completely returned to his own calamity via focusing on something, he cleans Oswald’s wounds- the few on his face and his knee, his hands. Glad to find there’s no deep gashes or cuts that need stitching, he simply has to put some iodine tincture on the worst scrapes and use a couple of bandaids and gauze. The bullet wound is another matter entirely.

Ed doesn’t mind repetitive tasks, it’s actually exactly his wheelhouse- those detail oriented, tedious jobs that no one else seems to want to do, he’s always liked doing them. It’s part of why he got a vocation in forensics in the first place, and why he used to spend more hours in the GCPD than he got paid for, or constantly got told off for stepping out of line when he messed with the victim’s bodies although he’s no medical examiner. Even without a mystery to be discovered or puzzle to solve, working on delicate and copious assignments has always calmed him down. So he has no problem with how long it takes to pick every tiny piece of bullet parts from Oswald’s wound, or even the interruptions when he has to dab away all the fresh dribbles of blood his prodding tweezers cause. He’s just getting exhausted, what with his adrenaline from the recovery mission fading, and early morning creeping in. And although he usually thinks of himself as a practical man, Oswald’s physical reactions and moans are getting to him. When he finally deems to be done, and has disinfected and wrapped up the wound, he’s more than ready for a few hours of sleep.

There’s one more difficult part ahead though- moving Oswald onto the bed. Even with the assistance of the gurney’s height being about right, it’s harder than he thought to pull the unconscious man over, and Oswald grunts passed-out objections a few times through the process.

“Sorry, buddy” Ed mumbles under his breath, then huffs in satisfaction when he’s finally managed to place Oswald’s unmoving body on the mattress.

He makes a quick trip back to the ambulance to leave the gurney there and find some scrubs, pondering how to treat cracked ribs. When he gets back to the room he takes some bags of frozen vegetables from the kitchen and sits down next to Oswald, pulling him up carefully. Oswald doesn’t rouse, only makes a quiet sleepy noise of agony when Ed has to lean the smaller one against his chest so he can wrap a bandage across his torso. Leaving him there, Oswald’s head on his shoulder, he reaches out and makes a little pillow tower against the bed’s headboard in order to keep Oswald more upright, so he won’t have as much trouble breathing in his sleep. It’s a bit awkward to pull the scrubs over the man’s head and his arms through the sleeves, but when it’s finally done, Ed lays Oswald back against the pillows in a half-seat, places one of the frozen bags on Oswald’s ribs and pulls the blanket up to his chest.

“There” he adds happily and watches his patient for a bit longer. Oswald looks paler than he usually does, and strangely docile with his sleeping face and his hair all flat. A little while passes where Ed keeps sitting by his side and gently holding another ice pack to Oswald’s black eye, brooding quietly over what to do next. He’s on the run from the law either way, but so is Oswald now that Ed’s snatched him right out of GCPD custody, and oh he can’t even think of the bat again right now, or he will get too mad- he has to shelf that problem for when Oswald has recovered a bit. All he figures now is retaliation will be coming, and he plans to make it spectacular. He’s sure Oswald will be on board.

~ ~ ~

Oswald doesn’t know where he is, or how he got there, or even the last thing he remembers- all he knows is he’s in pain and his limbs are not cooperating with his brain. And something smells good. He tries to open his eyes and this isn’t right, he can’t really see anything but blurs- oh yeah, he’s using a monocle now, isn’t he, where is that?

The attempt to lift his arms hurts so much he hears himself groan, and his mouth is dry and his head feels split in two, and actually every bone in his body feels split in two. A darker blur appears in front of him and for a second he feels panic well up inside- he wants to say something, ask so many questions, but he can’t really figure out what they were, and also moving his mouth seems like too much effort.

He thinks he moans and hears someone talk but he can’t understand what’s being said and then that voice just sounds disappointed. There’s a prick in his arm and he should really react here, but his pain suddenly seems far away and then the world turns upside down and goes dark again.

~ ~ ~

For most of the next day Oswald stays asleep and Ed finds himself pondering over feelings he’s made a habit of not touching on. Maybe he’s getting sentimental, because once again he’s nursing Oswald back to health- he can’t help remembering the last time the man had been an involuntary guest in his bed. He thinks of how their friendship had formed, and their partnership during Oswald’s political endeavours. He thinks of Oswald’s confession and his betrayal.

It’s strange how he can still remember to a fault how dark and full of hatred his emotions and actions of vengeance had been back then, and yet simultaneously finding he has long since let go of his grudge against Oswald for what he did to Isabella. Now it all seems more detached from their reality- a tale he read somewhere rather than his own past that he’d actually lived through. He’s sure that if he lets himself, he could get mad about it again- it was a terrible thing Oswald did to him, his best and only friend- but he realises he doesn’t want to.

He’d rather focus on his fondness for Oswald, and the respect they share for each other. There had always been an attraction between them- a mutual admiration, if only at the other’s criminal exploits or cunning at first. And might Oswald’s change of heart not have come at the exact wrong time, he’s not so sure anymore that they might not have ended up together back then. Then more so than now he had not been good at reading another’s intentions towards him, so the comprehension that Oswald cared for him in a romantic way had hit him like a freight train. Their feelings had never aligned in the right moments- or maybe they had until Ed became infatuated with Isabella, and then of course they hated and hurt each other for so long before finally landing on a tentative friendship. If Isabella had never stepped into his life, surely he’d have given Oswald’s feelings more thought.

He’s never really cared about gender, it had just so happened that his romantic interest had fallen on women when it came to his biggest romances. Then again, his biggest albeit most turbulent romance has been with Oswald in a way, he thinks. Although there had never been any physical aspect to their relationship, in his life Oswald has certainly been the person able to bring out the strongest emotional responses in him- for worse but undeniably also better. He cannot pretend to himself that he does have no notions of love towards Oswald any longer- the Penguin has wormed his way into easily being the most important person in Ed’s life, a constant he’d tried and failed to get rid of time and time again, and if he’s honest he doesn’t want to be stuck in their friendship anymore. Of course, he’ll take it, if there’s no possibility of going a step further, but he rather vainly feels as if Oswald’s feelings for him are still there- sure, they’d changed over the events that have passed between the two of them, but they haven’t disappeared. He’s almost sure there’s still that sad longing in Oswald’s eyes once and again when he looks at Ed.

Oswald mumbles something in his sleep and Ed can’t help but smile as he watches the man. He likes focusing on this- the warmth spreading through his chest when he lets himself indulge on the positive emotions he holds for Oswald. This is much nicer than feuding and after all, since they had never been able to dispose of each other, he’d much rather get along with the man. He’d thought so years before and he still thinks so now- even though their fights had always been exciting and to some extent fun, he has to admit.

Ed finishes his coffee and puts the mug in the sink. He’s expecting a delivery- mostly groceries and some more bandages and dressings Oswald might need over the next few weeks- and since he’s not keen on letting anyone know of his whereabouts, especially now that he’s harbouring Oswald, he’s set up the exchange in another district. Leaving his patient alone is not exactly ideal, but it’s the best he can do for now, and Oswald is just resting at the moment anyhow.

Oswald’s health is his main priority, and any explorations of their personal relationship can wait until the man has recovered.

~ ~ ~

The next time Oswald wakes up he feels more like himself, if only slightly. He has to sniff and instantly regrets this decision because he smells something like blood in his nose, and the scent is making him a bit sick. Added to the vertigo he’s already experiencing even though he’s just lying down, it’s a bit hard to take. He moans as he shifts a little in an attempt to make the room not spin as much, then once again because the movement makes him realise he hurts everywhere. He can hear footsteps coming closer but he can’t really concentrate on them, even though they’re a potential threat and he’s apparently not in the best of states to begin with. What he focuses his attention on is opening his eyes, and this time his brain works well enough to notice that he can only manage a squint with his good one. It must be the reason for his sight being so limited. He gets another bout of dizziness from how cloudy the world looks.

“Hey, sleepyhead- now doesn’t this seem familiar?”

It’s Ed’s voice, from right next to him- there he is, in Oswald’s view, if fuzzy around the edges. This has to be a dream, because he’s been here before- but then Ed is in his shiny green suit and even wearing his hat, and this is not an apartment at all, the ceiling is too high and the echo too vast. Or maybe that’s all in Oswald’s head.

“I had to step out for a bit, have you been awake for long?”

Oswald blinks a few times and tries to sit up again, but a zing of pain bolts through his system and he gives up. His throat feels sore and there’s a pounding ache in his arm.

“It seems not.”

He’s too hot and sweaty and he can’t think clearly with this headache, and for a frantic moment he has the urge to cry and bemoan himself, because everything sucks and he can’t form a clear thought.

“Do you want another dose? It’s late, maybe a bit more rest would do you good.”

Oswald could kiss him, well he could pretty much always kiss Ed, but he really probably couldn’t right now because he can’t even sit up. He groans in what he hopes Ed will understand as affirmation.

“Alright, but you have to drink some water first.”

Maybe this is a memory after all, or hell- him battered and woozy and useless and Ed annoying him about the same things he had been years ago all over again. Ed doesn’t let up and holds a glass next to his head, places a straw between his lips and even cradles the back of his head to help him. That alone would be nice if Oswald weren’t so preoccupied with his whole body aching at even these minuscule movements. Swallowing is agony. At least Ed seems happy with him when he’s downed some of the liquid.

“Right-o. See you tomorrow” the brunette quips and injects him with something again. And the last thing that goes through his head is that he’s at least glad it’s Ed- anyone else, even in this defenseless state, he’s pretty sure he would have fought through his pain instead of accepting any drink or drug.

There’s daylight seeping into the room when he comes to, he’s not sure from where, or even how he knows it isn’t artificial light, but he just knows, instinctively. His brain seems to work better as well- everything still hurts but he doesn’t feel so helpless anymore, not as confused, and when he opens his eyes, his surroundings are easier to process as well, not as blurry. Somewhere to his left there’s shuffling and rustling and he accomplishes turning his head so he can see Ed’s back as the man rummages around a little kitchenette. He’s awake enough now to notice his thirst, as opposed to last night when that was more background noise than anything else.

“Ed?” he manages to croak and the brunette turns around and throws him a smile.

“Hi there. You seem lucid this time around.”

Oswald doesn’t exactly feel like it though, his head is still all kinds of jumbled.

Ed fills a glass with water and sits on a folding chair next to the bed as they repeat the same tedious drinking process as last time, only with Oswald actually capable of appreciating Ed’s touch and how cool Ed’s fingers feel on the nape of his neck. The glass is discarded on the bedside table and Oswald tries to put his thoughts in some form of order. He’s still not quite sure how he ended up in this situation.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Ed helps him out.

Oswald clears his throat and thinks, staring at the high ceiling and noting that they’re definitely in some kind of warehouse- close to the pier probably, now that he can process his environment he thinks he can hear gulls.

“I had a meeting. Something went wrong.”

His voice sounds raspy and exhausted- pretty much a perfect fit to how he feels. Ed nods along as Oswald goes on.

“Some men showed up. There was a shootout.”

“Yes. You got shot- it’s just a graze, I cleaned out the wound” Ed says and nods to his left arm.

Oh, Oswald remembers now.

“Sofia. Those were definitely Sofia Falcone’s guys. I’m going to kill her.”

“What else, what then?” Ed interrupts his revenge plans.

“I… I got some of them, but… everything got quiet so suddenly. I was running… oh.”

His mind lands on a perfect vision of what he saw, a black cape and pointy mask, a pest he wasn’t able to exterminate and a load of pain as he went down. It’s not only Sofia he has to kill.

Ed hums in understanding and leans forward, forearms propped on his knees. He’s not wearing his hat anymore, or his jacket, and Oswald always thinks he’s handsome, but maybe even more so now because he doesn’t see Edward this relaxed a lot- black shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and no tie, two upper buttons undone. Oswald’s mind is going off track again, he kind of wants to put his nose right there where Ed’s shirt falls open and a clavicle is almost visible.

“You got pretty beat up. That batman really isn’t playing around, is he? Gave you over to the good gents of the GCPD. They placed you in a cop car- a cop car, not an ambulance, can you believe it? Imbeciles.”

Distracted, Oswald can’t really focus on how irritated Ed sounds for his sake.

“Anyway I had this old police uniform stashed away- honestly it still is way too easy to sneak someone out of GCPD custody, especially if that someone is knocked out. You’d really think they’d know my face by now, but a prosthetic nose and fake moustache go a long way apparently” Ed rambles on and Oswald’s headache makes itself known again. There’s also something wet on his chest, and he grunts as he pulls the blanket down to be greeted by a moist green bag of something.

“What is this?”

“Frozen beans” Ed says and takes the dripping bag off of him, “Or at least they used to be. Take a deep breath.”

Oswald tries, kind of annoyed to be ordered around but also not exactly fit enough to complain or bicker right now. The result is a stabbing pain in his chest as his lungs fill and he breaks off in a fit of weak coughs that make Ed nervous enough to place both hands on his shoulders and support him as he jerks.

“Whoa, careful there, I think you’ve got some cracked ribs.”

“You don’t say” Oswald manages when he’s got control over his breath back and he falls against the pillows, exhausted and headache full on pulsing.

“Don’t try to force it, relax. I’m pretty sure you’re concussed as well, which means it’s probably not good you were out for so long, but you seemed to really need it” Ed explains and scratches his head, looking almost embarrassed, as if he’s made a rookie mistake by putting Oswald under. It’s actually kind of sweet, Oswald thinks and then berates himself for being mushy. Ed pats his own knees and his face goes neutral again, then he holds up his hand and waits for Oswald’s eyes to track it.

“How many fingers?”

“Three” Oswald mumbles quickly and Ed smiles, going on.

“Does a human being have?”

“Ten” Oswald says with a roll of his eyes that probably has no impact whatsoever because one of them is swollen almost shut. He hates being injured, he hates feeling vulnerable, he hates playing nice and he doesn’t want to be treated with kid gloves, but it’s also nostalgic to have Ed tend to him, and he has to admit it’s comforting as well. He’s going sappy again. Must be the drugs.

“And a clock?”

“Two. Wait. Unless there’s one for seconds as well, then three” he drawls and that took way too much effort, especially with the pounding in his head. He feels really tired and now that he notices how restricted his breathing is, it’s straight up irritating him. His wounded arm feels like it’s on fire.

“Correct” Ed says happily, “So far so good.”

He gets up and walks over to the kitchenette, placing a pot on the gas stove and switching it on.

“You should eat something. I made soup.”

The last thing Oswald wants to do is move in any way more than he has to, but he’s got to admit food sounds really good, and it also smells really good and he knows Ed is a really good cook. He tries to sit up a bit straighter and another bolt of pain zings through his torso as he shimmies up.

“Do you have any more painkillers?”

“I do” Ed says as he pours some hot soup into a bowl, “But they might make you a bit woozy.”

“I’m already woozy” Oswald complains and finally dares to lift his hand and prod at his eye a bit. It doesn’t actually feel as bad as he had thought, the worst of the damage is apparently on his chest and stomach, which hurt like hell even when he moves only his arms.

“They might make you woozier.”

Ed produces a bed tray from somewhere and places it over Oswald’s legs.

“I don’t care. Gimme” Oswald tells him, and he would put more angry persistence behind it if he could, but in his current state he sounds more like a petulant child than anything. Ed snickers at him and puts the bowl of soup and a spoon down on the tray.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll give you some that aren’t as strong as what you’ve been on.”

“Give me the stronger ones” Oswald grinds out as he tries to keep his arm from trembling when he reaches out for the spoon.

“No” Ed laughs and Oswald contemplates throwing the spoon at him, but decides against it because his stomach is grumbling. Begrudgingly he starts eating, as Ed sits down next to him and watches him with a strange attention. Oswald is tempted to call it affection, but he’s pretty sure these sorts of feelings might only be his own lingering wishful thinking. He should have gotten over this a long time ago.

“I knew you’d be a difficult patient” Ed smiles.

“From experience?”

Ed laughs, but Oswald doesn’t pay him much mind, focused on how good the soup tastes- pumpkin he thinks- and he hadn’t even realised just how hungry he was until he had some food in his mouth.

“That and because you’re stubborn” Ed says and in any other setting Oswald would have thought the brunette was flirting with him- the statement being said in a tone that made it sound like the most praising compliment he had ever been given, and accompanied by a look that he can only identify as smitten. Surely it must be the concussion messing with him.

“If I give you the strong meds, you’ll just sleep again all day and it really is no fun having you here when you don’t talk back” Ed chastises and Oswald throws him an unamused look.

Instead of saying something sarcastic about not having been able to help that, he eats- slowly and with difficulties. By the time he’s finished another bowl and finally got Ed to hand over some pills, his headache and exhaustion are strong enough to make him hardly realise Ed is still looking at him in that intensely fond way.

“I think I’m going to fall asleep anyway” Oswald mumbles and already can’t keep his eyes open.

“I’m not going to stop you from taking a nap.”

Oswald is not sure Ed could. He can feel himself drifting off.

“You need to recover. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

When he does, Ed actually is not there- at least not in the room. He can hear a piano from across the wall though, the size of the warehouse warbling the acoustics of the song into something etherial, and he’s not quite awake, not quite sure he’s not dreaming.

“Oh, it must be nice
To love someone
Who lets you break them twice.”

Ed has a really good singing voice.

There’s something cold on Oswald’s chest again, but he can’t find the energy to remove it, even though the temperature is bordering on uncomfortable. He can’t even open his eyes, he’s just along for the ride as he floats in this half-conscious state.

“Don’t pretend that I’m the instigator,
You are the one but you were born to say goodbye.”

Although he’s hazy and out of it, Oswald manages to feel slightly offended. As if he ever was the only one at fault here.

“Kissed me half a decade later,
That same perfume,
Those same sad eyes.”

Well that never happened though, did it? His sick fantasies are really getting out of control, but the slow melancholy of the song is nice and the melody lulls him into zoning out and soon he’s fallen back asleep.

He dreams of Ed with a police cap, then Ed in a white lab coat, then Ed in a nurse’s uniform, and then he dreams of a swarm of bats and suffocating in the dark cloud they create around him. All his mistakes and regrets come out to haunt him: Butch and Babs, his mother is there and Fish, and his father and Gordon, and Sofia and Martin, and then when he wakes up there’s only pain- well, and Edward.

The realisation hits him slowly, it takes a while, until he gets that after all they’d done to each other, he never actually regretted anything about Ed. Surely he wouldn’t do everything the same way all over again, but that’s purely the wisdom of hindsight. And though his eye is still swollen his vision gets clearer every second, and he’s absolutely sure Ed is treating him differently now than how he used to before Oswald got beat down by the bat. He can’t put a finger on what it is- a not quite docile but rather amused patience with him, a barely there sparkle in Ed’s eyes when their gazes meet. Either he’s more affected by the concussion or the meds than he thought, or something is going on here that he’s not aware of. And he hates not being in the know. It makes him suspicious- even about Ed. Maybe especially about Ed.

Chapter Text

It goes on for days, this strange kind of tension- they’ve been friends and they’ve been affectionate and they’ve also tried to kill each other on numerous occasions, but right now it feels to Oswald as if they’re dancing around something he doesn’t want to let himself believe in. Ed is patient and tender with him and there’s some of his old, unaware jolliness back in his manner- more Ed, the lab tech, than the Riddler. Whereas they’ve been known to fight over the smallest things, Ed is now indulging all his moods and teasing- Oswald hates being bed-ridden and invalid, and his temper is all over the place whenever he’s awake. They had a little dispute about Oswald going to the bathroom- which he won, because if there is any possibility of him moving on his own there is absolutely no way he will let Ed help him relieve himself. Also Ed told him he should be trying to get out of bed anyway, urging him to walk around as much as he can because apparently it’s not good for his cracked ribs for him to stay stationary for too long.

If Ed has any sort of plan to fuck him over for some reason, he’s none the wiser to it. He’s living off a cocktail of painkillers and anti-inflammatories for his bullet wound, and he’s sure if Ed wanted to slip him something he doesn’t know about, he would have more than enough means to do so, but as far as he can tell these meds are legit. He doesn’t have any unusual side effects. Exhaustion and pain are his biggest problems. So he figures Ed isn’t drugging him beyond what he is openly admitting to- after all they eat Ed’s cooking together, so if the food was spiked, the brunette must be drugging himself as well, which would make no sense at all. Oswald is still no closer to figuring out what is going on between them then, or what has happened to Ed to make him so mellow and chipper. Maybe his concussion has done a bigger number on him than he’s initially thought and he’s imagining things after all.

The other thing is- while Ed is insisting on Oswald staying at his hideout for as long as he needs to recover, Ed isn’t keeping him from contacting his people. Ed of course knows how to keep calls untraceable and messages encrypted, and he doesn’t even pry when Oswald uses a laptop Ed borrows him. Then again, surely Ed could have some kind of setup that lets him read Oswald’s correspondences from the other room, or while Oswald’s asleep. But none of it seems reasonable to him- Ed has nothing to gain from nursing him and being overly nice to him, no reason to betray him, after all they were finally on good terms anyhow. If the brunette is buttering him up for something, he has no fucking clue as to what that could be.

He doesn’t even think Ed is very busy at the moment. Most of the time that Oswald is awake (which, granted, is still not exactly a lot), Ed is either with him- cooking, or eating, or gossiping about whatever the papers and the internet tell them is going on in the city around them, reassessing the state of Oswald’s injuries- or Oswald can hear him tinkering away in the warehouse. And Oswald finds himself getting used to their little setup. Playing house with Dr. Nygma is comfortable he has to admit- as comfortable as he can be with his injuries and his anxiety about what is happening outside, to his clubs and casino; despite what his associates tell him via mails his whole organisation could be crumbling down right now, especially with Sofia prowling around, probably patting herself on the shoulder for her win against him. And he’s still having nightmares daily.

If he dares to let himself believe that Ed is honestly being nice just for the sake of it, he really is the only light in Oswald’s life right now- Ed and maybe his plans of revenge, but his head is still not quite up to forming any sensical schemes. It takes about five days until he gets absolutely sick of the kitchenette/bedroom he’s staying in, and he thinks even with his frequent naps, that’s a lot- he’s deserved some kind of medal for not venturing any further than the bathroom way sooner. He’s prepared to fight Ed on this matter, as he gingerly stalks into the warehouse dressed only in these horrible scrubs and barefooted.

~ ~ ~

Ed’s plan is simple: Sofia is none of his business, he’s pretty sure Oswald will want to take care of this family feud by himself; no, his focus is on the bat. It’s very probable he’s taking this too personal because the still visible red marks on Oswald’s neck are a constant reminder of not only Ed’s own past mistakes but all kinds of desires he’s usually keeping at bay because he doesn’t want to analyse that part of his psyche. He’s never actually had a private tussle with the batman, but he’s going to change that. There’s no harm in admitting that he wants to see what the man behind that mask is made of, but a huge part of his incentive is certainly the pure need to torture the guy.

Compared to any of his other heists and crimes this is the biggest endeavour so far, but he’s got time on his side. According to his research, Oswald’s injuries will take at least two and a half more weeks to stabilise, and he has no mind to leave the Penguin until that happens. More than likely, he’s going to have to convince or force Oswald to not leave too soon. Oswald is not going to get away before his recovery is at a stage that Ed approves of.

Ed is in the middle of memorising the shift changes at the downtown aquarium when he’s startled out of his musings by his laptop landing on the desk beside him- a little harder than he would like people to treat technical equipment. He gives Oswald a pass though, because the man is out of breath and leaning against the table top as if he’s just run a marathon.

“You should be resting” he chastises and Oswald closes his eyes in annoyance.

“I” he starts, then catches his breath. Poor thing still cannot get a proper lungful.

“I will go mad if I stay in that bed any longer.”

Inhale.

“Or that room.”

Exhale.

“I need a change of scenery.”

Oswald eyes the couch with a longing he is quickly trying to hide and Ed can’t help but smirk at his tenacity. It’s almost adorable, how offended Oswald is at his own incompetence, even though it is only a very natural and temporally limited side effect of the damage he’d taken. Then Ed remembers being unable to move after he’d been unfrozen, and he can relate to the impatience Oswald must be feeling to finally get on with planning his retaliation. Luckily, Ed is on it for him- at least part of it.

“It’s better to watch you… work on… your projects” Oswald mumbles, “At least I’ll have company.”

Ed is thinking about it as Oswald waddles over to the sofa. His wound hasn’t got infected and his ribs will just take time, the swelling on his eye has gone down and Ed counts his appetite during their regular meals as a win. All in all he’s doing better every day and it won’t really make a difference whether he rests in the bed or on the couch. Oswald makes a pained noise as he sits down and then moans contently when he’s seated against a pillow. He looks underdressed for the uninsulated warehouse hall though, so Ed gets up and fetches the blanket from the room for him. When he throws it over the man’s body, Oswald watches him with a surprising intensity- he doesn’t seem weak or foggy at all anymore, this is his usual piercing bright blue gaze, the now just a bit droopy black eye doing nothing to weaken the obvious cunning hiding behind that stare.

Ed just smiles right back. He’s very happy with how well Oswald is returning to his old self. Oswald doesn’t comment, only sighs contently when Ed is back at his desk. It takes maybe two minutes, just when Ed is getting back into his zone, and Oswald pulls him out again.

“Can’t you turn that on?”

“What?” Ed mumbles, distracted with his timetables and a street map he’s calculating quickest routes on- the batman would be going over rooftops, so he needs to find out about building heights, maybe get an aerial picture of the…

“Those screens. I’m sure you can receive channels on here, right?” Oswald says, sounding irritated.

Ed turns in his chair. The sofa is placed so that the back faces him and the desk, but its backrest isn’t very high, and Oswald has his injured arm laying on it and his head resting on the couch’s arm, rolled to the side so Ed can easily get a full view of the “Can you do it now?” expression on his face.

“Uh, yeah” Ed says, and rolls around the sofa with his chair, getting a remote and an X-Box-controller from beneath the wall of screens. He turns on the computer and switches on one of the monitors, then rolls back until he’s right by his desk beside Oswald, handing him the remote. Oswald already looks considerably more pleased when Ed logs in via controller and starts up a program he’d adapted to have free access to local and national channels- and all the common streaming services. It takes a while to teach Oswald how to operate, but he seems content when it’s done, and Ed is back to his work.

He doesn’t mind the background noise, even when Oswald keeps zapping through all the channels for minutes on end- he’s used to blocking out the world around him when he’s focusing on something. The only downside is that with his recent discovery and acceptance of his romantic feelings, somehow Oswald giggling at some TV show is able to pierce right through that focus and make his stomach weak. It’s so good to see the man getting back to his senses. His memories of right after he’d buried Miss Kringle are returning- that same satisfaction he’d had back then when Oswald had accepted his Leonard-gift is welling up inside him now. And that is distracting, having to deal with his emotions.

He can’t help but turn and stare at Oswald a bit as the smaller one lounges on his couch and smirks at the screen. When he notices Ed watching him, he huffs and Ed witnesses him turning red in the face.

“Is it… am I disturbing you?”

“No” Ed lies, smiling, “How do you feel?”

“Better” Oswald mumbles and Ed observes the blush reaching his ears, in awe. He has the sudden urge to put his teeth on Oswald’s conch and feel the heat there on his lips.

“Don’t we know you’re good at nursing me back to health.”

Ed feels his smile widen and the warmth in his stomach spread.

“And here we are” he says and waits until Oswald catches his gaze, “Right back where we started.”

Oswald’s eyes widen slightly, then his blush turns deeper and he looks away- and this is it, these moments that make him sure Oswald still loves him, and he feels nothing short of invincible. He’s biting into the pencil he’s holding, because he’s sure his smile would split his face otherwise. Oswald clears his throat awkwardly.

“I wonder if you’re indulging me or I’m indulging you” Oswald whispers under his breath and looks absolutely broken for a second, until he catches himself and fumbles with the remote to switch to another channel.

“What?”

“Nothing. What are you doing over there anyway?”

Oswald’s voice sounds steady and forceful and his barriers are up again. It takes Ed a moment to get himself together, all his past experiences flooding in, how bad he used to be at reading other people’s perceptions about him, how often his ego got in the way of the clarity of reality, even before he became the Riddler. He feels a bit numb, maybe he’s on the wrong trail, maybe he still hasn’t figured Oswald out as well as he thought he had.

Never mind- his plan.

“Aaah, right. The- I’m… well, I’m thinking of sending the bat on a wild-goose chase: a scavenger hunt all throughout Gotham.”

He pats the desk, shuffles a few of his papers together and reaches for a box- it’s not finished, but he turns and shows it to Oswald anyway, who is staring at him wide eyed and slightly confused.

“I’m going to place these- all over the city, hidden. He’s going to have to find them, one leading to the next, but he’s going to have to be clever to figure out where they are and-…”

Oswald shakes his head suddenly and interrupts him, eyes closed and expression still bewildered.

“You… you’re telling me your plans?”

Ed isn’t sure what to do but stare at him for a few seconds.

“Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

The way Oswald stares right back makes him a bit insecure, and he gets another flashback- that horrible sinking feeling of realising you’ve been inappropriate in a social situation, but then he gets himself together. He’s not that person anymore, and he hasn’t made any mistakes- it’s perfectly acceptable to share his mischievous schemes with Gotham’s crime lord number one, who is still, let’s face it, his best friend.

Oswald narrows his eyes at him, that pervasive attention once more focused on him. He looks suspicious.

“Well, because… I thought you’d… forget it” he trails off and shakes his head, wiping his face with his hand, then returning his focus to the monitor. Ed gets it now.

“Oswald, do you…”

He doesn’t even know how to phrase this.

“Do you think I’m planning to do you harm?”

He watches Oswald swallow heavily and it shouldn’t be this enticing to see the suffocation marks dance on his throat. It’s really strange how helpless he is against his urges now that he’s owned up to them.

“Well, I’m… you’ll have to forgive my distrustful nature, especially when it comes to you.”

Although he hides it very well, Ed catches the slight waver in Oswald’s voice. He can feel his own heartbeat rock his whole body.

Not wanting to blow this misunderstanding out of proportion, he tries to stay very still in his seat, half-facing the sofa, where Oswald is resolutely staring at the screens, but quite obviously paying attention to Ed more than anything else. He looks ready to jump up and run, and destroy anything in his path. Ed’s admiration for his tenacity is rearing its head again.

“Oswald, I saved you. I… What did you think I was going to do to you?”

Oswald takes a breath, chest stuttering when his ribs start complaining, and shakes his head.

“I don’t know. Obviously you’re not just trying to kill me.”

“I haven’t thought about killing you in years” Ed gasps out, honesty taking over before he can calculate his answer, “I was miserable when you were dead.”

Oswald huffs a forced laugh, then turns to him finally and his eyes look cold, that affection from before buried deep beneath his hard stare.

“I wasn’t dead.”

Ed nods and holds his gaze.

“I don’t have a vendetta against you, nor any grand scheme, not anymore” he says quietly, hoping Oswald is able to read his sincerity, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Oswald’s eyes widen incrementally, but he doesn’t look away, and he doesn’t go soft, and he’s making Ed think Ed’s fucked them up beyond repair, until he turns to the screens again and his body visibly relaxes. Ed releases a breath he hadn’t noticed he’s been holding and he’s only now wondering if his past actions have scarred Oswald so deeply that he will really make it impossible for them to ever get any closer than they are now. After all that has passed between them since No Man’s Land, Oswald doesn’t trust him.

“So what’s the incentive for the bat to find your boxes?” Oswald asks and Ed is thankful for the change in topic even though his heart sinks to the bottom of his shoes. He’s never been good at this, he should have figured Oswald would not respond well to him just treating him nicely. But it’s not as if he’d planned this out, he’d just acted on his instincts to be kind to the man- because Oswald is injured and because of his new awareness of his feelings towards Oswald.

“I’m thinking hostages” he explains, distracted, “There’s a few people I’ve got on the radar- you know, the ‘elite’ of Gotham, quite a few faces in places they haven’t actually earned.”

“A lot to chose from” Oswald agrees and the mood shifts back to a friendly exchange.

Or at least it would, but Ed is somehow too worked up to concentrate on his project.

“Are you hungry?” he says and is already getting up, “I’m going to make something for lunch.”

He’s running away, he knows and it seems Oswald does as well, not deeming the statement worthy of an answer aside from a soft hum.

He’s still in his head about where he stands with Oswald when he’s cooking, and he finds himself operating on autopilot throughout the process. He hadn’t thought about Oswald’s mental state that much, but he should have- the last time he’d nursed the man back to health, Oswald had been difficult as well. Yes, he’d only just lost his mother back then, but Ed still gets the feeling Oswald’s prone to getting depressed when he feels useless. And Oswald’s moods can change at the drop of a hat on any given day, it’s plausible his shifts and suspicions are enhanced now.

Lost in his thoughts, a stack of pans drops from the pantry as he takes one out, and he actually jumps at the loud crashing bang. He sighs as he kneels down and clears them away and when he gets up again, he’s startled by Oswald standing in the door, watching him. How can he be this good at creeping up on people even when he’s all injured? It hits Ed, how scary Oswald can be. He knows pretty much everything about Oswald’s past and of course he’s been on the bad end of the man’s grudges before, but this more than any physical threat is suddenly making his blood run cold- this feeling that Oswald is staring right into his soul and reading his mind.

He gives himself a mental slap and finds the strength to smile back at Oswald. After all, if he really could read his mind, he’d figure out Ed means him no harm. That would make things easier for him actually, if he didn’t have to explain his emotional state to Oswald. It’s only now that he realises what Oswald must have gone through trying to find the courage to confess to him. He’s never had a problem with telling his romantic interests how he feels about them- why is he so nervous about this now? Sure, he’s scared of destroying their truce that apparently was more delicate than he’d thought, but when it comes down to it he doesn’t think telling Oswald he’s come to love him will make him mad. Unless he thinks Ed’s lying to him. He’d probably kill Ed if he thinks he’s being made fun of. Oh boy, getting Oswald to trust him might make his list of priorities after all.

“Don’t you think it’s time to tell me what the hell is wrong with you?” Oswald says sternly, as Ed resumes making their meals. He keeps his hands busy as he thinks of a response.

“Do you have a chip in your head again or something?”

Ed can’t hold down a laugh. Or something.

“No, I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“Oswald” Ed starts, turning to him slightly as some vegetables keep sizzling on the stove, “I know you don’t exactly believe me right now, but all I want is for you to get better. We’re friends. At one point you have to put a little faith in me.”

Oswald narrows his eyes and Ed can see his fingers twitch at his sides.

“But you’re acting strangely.”

“How so?” Ed leads him on, refocusing on the meal and Oswald sounds mad.

“Don’t belittle me like that! You know what I mean.”

Heaving a sigh, Ed finishes up the stir-fry and plates it. He’d rather not do this right now, when Oswald is wound up and Ed is distraught.

“You shouldn’t get so upset. We still have plenty of time to talk, let’s eat for now.”

Oswald is looking upwards as if praying to some deity to give him the strength not to strangle Ed.

“I swear, it’s nothing bad” Ed insists and carries the plates through the door, urging Oswald towards the couch and handing him one, while he sits on his desk with the other.

“I’m just glad you weren’t killed, and that you’re doing fine.”

Oswald watches him with a strange expression, until Ed adds “I promise”, and they both put their attention to their lunch. It seems to have been enough to ease Oswald’s mind a bit- after they’re done with the food, he’s visibly more relaxed and settles back into watching cartoons as Ed attempts to resume working on his riddles for the bat. They even fall right into talking about the project again. He’d thought it would be annoying to have to deal with someone interjecting all kinds of comments as he assembles his little trick boxes and traps, but it actually spurs him on a bit and makes his mind more alert- explaining his inventions to Oswald keeps him aware of possible flaws or improvements, and while Oswald seems to zone out whenever Ed goes into mechanical specifics, saying out loud what his next steps are somehow makes the vision of the finished project clearer. Maybe he should try talking to himself more when Oswald’s gone. Or did he use to do that anyway?

When he cleans away their plates and makes his cup of afternoon coffee, Oswald’s fast asleep on the couch, snoring lightly with his head lolling against the backrest. Ed snatches the remote from his sleeping form and turns off the screens. A bit of calm restored, he finds himself making some progress in the next hour, until he can hear the distinct sounds of a car pulling up outside and stopping by the warehouse.

Instantly alert, he flicks his systems back on and switches to the surveillance cameras outside. There’s someone exiting a vehicle and looking around as if to find out where the entrance is. It’s definitely a shady figure, a lanky young blonde who has small time criminal written all over him, the way he moves, even as he’s just lighting a cigarette and pulling a bag out of his car.

“Now who might you be…” Ed mumbles and frowns when the man notices the camera and waves up into it. This isn’t good- no one should know about this place. Ed has his thumb on a special remote under the desk for a trap right outside the warehouse doors, ready to take the guy’s head off with the push of one button. Eyes never leaving the monitor that shows the man busy with his cigarette and looking over his shoulder in every direction, he pulls a makeshift intercom from a drawer in his desk and connects to the outside speaker.

“You have exactly 10 seconds to identify yourself.”

The man looks startled, searching for the source of the voice addressing him.

“8.”

“Ah, I” the blonde stammers, cigarette falling from his lips, “Name’s Jonny. Jonny Frost.”

“Never heard of you” Ed says and feels a smirk coming on. He’d actually been dying to try out his invention and this Jonny is standing at the exact perfect spot.

“Goodbye.”

“No, listen! Louie sent me? I came to deliver this phone and get a few signatures!”

Frantic now, the guy raises both arms, one to show the bag he’s holding and one in simple surrender. It matters not, Ed thinks, this one’s dodgy either way and he doesn’t like anyone knowing their whereabouts. He can check the contents of that bag later. He’s a flick of his thumb away from slicing the man in half, when he hears Oswald shift beside him.

“Yeah, that’s for me” the kingpin mumbles and sits up, then rolls his shoulders tenderly, hair dishevelled and eyes still fighting with sleep.

“You told someone where we are?” Ed asks him in disbelief, still watching Jonny on the monitor, as the blonde seems to realise his 10 seconds are up and he’s still alive. He’s moving towards the gate and Ed thinks this one has some nerve.

“I wouldn’t take that step if I were you” he hisses through the intercom and Oswald groans, annoyance obvious in his sleepy tone.

“Weren’t you the one going on about trust just a while ago?” he mumbles and half turns so he can lean his upper body against the couch backrest and face the warehouse entrance, and Ed.

“Let him through.”

Ed thinks for a moment, but relents, mostly because he wants to make nice with Oswald. He’s still not thrilled about the dangers of blowing his hideout. But if he’s asking Oswald to take a chance on him, he figures he will have to take a chance on Oswald as well. He only hopes Oswald isn’t too naive about the solidarity of his goons. Huffing in frustration, he pushes a few buttons on the remote and the small door built into the warehouse gate pops open. They both watch over the screen as Jonny hesitates, grows a pair and makes his way inside slowly. Oswald snickers, then yawns.

Ed leaves the monitor on, calculating the chances of an army of gangster or police cars descending upon his lair any minute; but he still keeps his gaze trained on the man himself, as Jonny stalks up to them through the hall, eyes darting to all sides as if he was expecting a trap to come down on him from somewhere. He’s not exactly wrong there.

“What- Louie sent you, because he’s too scared to come here himself?” Oswald asks, smirking at Jonny as he steps up to them. Ed is thinking about triggering that trap door beneath him if the blonde comes any closer. Luckily for him, he doesn’t, he stops a few feet from Ed’s desk and stands there awkwardly, gaze dancing back and forth between the Penguin, comfortably reclined on the sofa with his head resting on his bandaged arm, and the Riddler, who’s very obviously dismembering Jonny in his mind.

“Ah, the guys weren’t exactly lining up to come here, no…” Jonny drawls, now resolutely focusing on his boss, and trying to keep his quick, terrified glances at Ed to a minimum.

“Well, bring it over here” Oswald says and Jonny nods, swallows against a lump in his throat. He’s walking around the desk slowly, and Ed is turning in his chair at the same pace, making sure he’s facing the blonde every step of the way. While he’s apprehensive about the whole ordeal, and Jonny seems simply anxious, Oswald watches the two of them with unconcealed bemusement. When Jonny puts the bag on the backrest of the sofa and opens it up, Ed pulls a gun out of a desk drawer and puts it in his lap, releasing the safety with a click. Oswald has the nerve to snicker, and Ed thinks he looks almost dopey, maybe still lingering on the edge of his nap.

Jonny pulls out a folder and Oswald sits up as he takes it from him and sifts through the papers.

“I, ehm, don’t exactly know what these are, I haven’t…”

“Good boy” Oswald mumbles, distracted while reading through the files, “You’re not supposed to know.”

Ed hates this guy with a vengeance. Has he always been this prone to jealousy?

Jonny clears his throat and reaches back into the bag and Ed puts his finger on the pistol’s trigger, but it really is only a mobile phone that the blonde produces and hands over to Oswald, who’s still reading.

“Pen” he says and Jonny panicks, patting down his cheap blue suit as if he’s hoping he could make one appear by sheer will. Ed rolls his eyes, reaches over to his desktop with his free hand and grabs a pen, holds it out to Jonny, who takes a second to decide what the better option is: letting Oswald wait, or taking anything Ed hands him. He does accept the pen though in the end and gives it to Oswald. Doesn’t even thank Ed, the little prick.

Oswald signs his name on a few of the documents and Jonny shifts about nervously, eager to get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

“Have Louie give me a call when the lawyers get these” Oswald tells Jonny as he’s handing the files back to him and the blonde fumbles to get them back into the bag. Ed stares at him a bit harder, just to raise his anxiety level.

When Jonny keeps standing there and shuffling from foot to foot, Oswald raises his eyebrows at him.

“Ehm, you’re done here. Goodbye.”

“Right” the blonde mumbles quickly and hurries to get out of the warehouse, Ed turning in his chair upon his retreat the same way he had when Jonny had approached. He keeps watching him until the door slams, then on the monitor lighting another cigarette and driving off. Finally breathing a bit easier, but still concerned about the weak link in their secrecy, Ed puts away his gun and leans back in his chair, re-directing his attention to Oswald.

Who is staring at him with a mixture of amusement and disgust. Before Ed can berate the man or defend himself though, Oswald changes the topic.

“Don’t you have some wine or anything of the sort?”

Ed blinks at him a few times.

“You are on several drugs, I’m not giving you alcohol.”

Oswald sighs as dramatically as he can with his limited lung capacity, and holds his hand out to Ed.

“Then change the channel at least.”

Ed hands him the remote and walks off to the kitchenette, getting two bottles of ginger ale. He’s pretty sure as far as mood changes go, he’s observing a good one in Oswald, but the man seems almost eerily calm- he’s tempted to call it smug- and Ed just can’t think clearly while still feeling upset about people knowing of his hideout. He hands Oswald a drink and Oswald raises an eyebrow at him, then sighs, disappointed.

“Cheers” he mumbles sarcastically and takes a swig.

“I know you expect me to let it go, but if this idiot blows our cover, I…” Ed trails off, sipping on his own bottle.

Oswald huffs, and Ed’s not sure if he’s laughing into his drink or harrumphing.

“Yeah, what was all that watchdog behaviour about anyway, are you my daddy now-?”

Ed knows this is by far not one of his greatest moments, but he’s entirely unprepared for how his brain shuts down at the stupid facetious comment, and he chokes on a sip of his ginger ale, snorts and splutters the mouthful all over the floor between the sofa and the desk, and his shirt front.

Oswald jumps as it happens.

“What is wrong w-“

“I’m gonna go take a shower real quick” Ed interjects and flees to the bathroom. Yes, a cold one actually.

~ ~ ~

They don’t talk about it over the next days, Oswald has already addressed Ed’s strange change in behaviour, so it seems unnecessary to do so again, and Ed throws himself fully into his project, his work only disrupted by a few bouts of paranoia about them being found and ambushed. If it wasn’t so sad and confusing, Oswald would find it rather intriguing to watch this man who thinks himself so rational go through all these emotional switches. He is getting used to accepting the idea that Ed means him no harm- in fact it’s kind of obvious what is going on here at this point, but he can’t help feeling overly cautious. The last time he’d let himself believe in any romantic intentions behind Ed’s affectionate behaviour towards him, it hadn’t turned out so well for him- or Ed. 

It makes the daily injury checkup more than awkward, this thing they’re both resolutely choosing not to mention- because now that he pays more attention he gets the feeling that Ed is touching him so gently, holding himself back so much that Oswald thinks one of these days he might just snap and pounce his patient. And Oswald- well at first he thinks it very funny and almost karmic, and is content to keep observing the brunette’s obvious inner struggle and wondering when they will reach the point where it all boils over, but after a few days it turns into frustration. Aren’t they both on the same page already? Or is Ed seriously still denying his own feelings? Maybe Oswald has misunderstood any of the weird clues Ed has thrown his way. They have enough time to talk, he’d said- sure, but at this point Oswald is wondering if Ed will ever be ready to talk about this.

Ed assures him his wound is healing nicely, but Oswald doesn’t feel like he’s making any progress here either- he still can’t move his arm without a bout of pain that manages to pierce through his medicated state, and he still cannot take a deep breath without going into a coughing fit that leaves him more sore than he ever thought he could be. And he’s been sore before. It’s all getting very tiresome to him, and he doesn’t have much by way of distraction- running his business over the phone is taking up less than minutes of his day, and he can only watch so many hours of TV shows or news until he falls back into brooding about Ed.

His conclusion is that if they’re ever going to get anywhere, he’s going to be the one to force Ed’s hand. Which is a weird concept to him, the last time they’d been in a similar situation, it had been Oswald who couldn’t bring himself to address the topic. But Ed hadn’t known back then, this is different. So after their dinner that night, as he’s sprawled on his usual spot on the couch and Ed is sifting through the mountain of papers on his desk, Oswald goes into offense.

“Ed.”

“Hm?”

“Why am I here?” he asks and wishes his voice would sound steadier, not as breathless. He’s nervous about this after all. Ed looks confused and a bit offended at what he thinks is a stupid question.

“Eh, because you got injured and I-“

“No, I mean, why are you here- with me.”

Oswald keeps his eyes trained on a loose thread in the duvet cover on his lap and elaborates, because Ed stays silent.

“You could have handed me over to my guys.”

He hears Ed huff and goes on quickly before the brunette can disrupt his trail of thought.

“Days ago even, or I could have left with that Jonny.”

“I don’t trust that guy, do you even know anything abou-“

“That’s not the point!” he hisses, and he should have figured he would be getting angry throughout this discussion. With Ed, everything is like pulling teeth.

“Do you really think by now I don’t know what’s going on?”

He ventures a gaze at Ed, who stands there looking like a fish out of water, but doesn’t reply.

“Just tell me!”

Ed opens his mouth, gasps, and then closes it again, and Oswald suddenly feels like he’s going to cry. He doesn’t want to do that in front of Ed, or because of him. It’s very fitting, isn’t it, that he has to beg for someone to love him. He can’t deal with people when his thoughts are getting this dark, he’s going to do or say something he’s going to regret again, he just knows, so he pulls himself together and gets up.

“You… you’re such a fucking coward” he mumbles, as he flees towards the bathroom very much like Ed had done a few days ago. He’s shaking, and he’s in pain, and he feels utterly hopeless, and it’s all just so stupid- because he’d hoped, even when he knew hoping would hurt him in the end, he’d hoped that they might heal, that they could finally figure this out. He’s been holding all these emotions down for so long, and not let himself believe in some sort of closure to them and then Ed went and broke through his barriers making him think his love might be reciprocated and now here he is, right back where they started. He wonders if he is insane after all, repeating all his past mistakes of misinterpreting Ed’s affection for him.

Trying to get out of his head, he strips out of the scrubs, which is a challenge in itself, and more so in his upset state, then takes off the bandages around his ribs and arm, and steps into the shower booth. It’s tedious to do this, even just the act of standing on his feet after lying in bed for so many hours a day is hard, and every move he makes with his arm or upper body sends bolts of pain throughout his system. The shower takes longer than he has anticipated just because he has to hold on to the wall, the shower head for support, bouts of dizziness and the residual aches stalling him, but the warm stream feels heavenly on his bruised skin and the steam in his lungs somehow eases his breathing. He feels calmer afterwards, tired beyond just physical exhaustion, but more clear-headed.

Until he’s dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his hips, and Ed enters the small bathroom. There’s a fresh bandage and iodine salve in his hands and Oswald can’t look into his eyes, isn’t sure he can do this right now, but what he is sure about is that he’s not steady enough to get Ed to stray off his course, not without one of them ending up dead, and he doesn’t exactly have either the upper hand nor a weapon nearby to take his chances. They’re both uncharacteristically quiet as Ed dresses his wound and Oswald is beyond anxious- a minute ago he was glad to have gone numb, but he’s right back on the verge of tears again and he wants to tear Ed’s head off for making him feel that way. On the other hand he feels so tired of lashing out against Ed- so he doesn’t know where that leaves him. He would have thought it Stockholm syndrome if not for the fact that he’s been in love with this man for years now.

Then Ed kneels in front of him and touches his waist so gently, palms resting right on his bruises, that have been hidden under layers of gauze for almost two weeks now. Oswald wants him so much, he feels like a clown in a caricature of his own desires, helpless and breathless as Ed leans in to place a kiss on his stomach. He’s shivering and Ed’s lips just stay there and the brunette sighs against his skin. And Oswald taps into his last reserve of feeling like he deserves just a bit more than this by way of a resolution.

“No” he gasps and his sight is getting blurry, “No! You don’t get to… weasel your way out of this!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his face in an attempt to delay his crying, but he can feel the sting in the corners of his eyes and the trembling in his lips, and he thinks Ed is looking up at him, but at this point he’s just a cloud of colours.

“You have to use your fucking words! Tell me!” Oswald demands desperately, voice cracking and shaky.

With his tears threatening to spill, he can only see Edward in frames of blurs as the taller one gets up and gently cradles his face. Ed uses both his thumbs to slowly wipe the moisture off Oswald’s eyelashes and Oswald hears himself give a big sniff and then a series of gasps. He’s almost hyperventilating, partly due to his sore ribs, but also this overwhelming anxiety. Then all there is is Ed’s face up close to his and their foreheads touching, and Ed is looking into his eyes with intent, urgency almost, and a shattering amount of unbridled devotion.

“I love you, Oswald” he says quietly and hearing it breaks some sort of dam, because Oswald is really crying now, unstoppable and intense, and through it all Ed keeps a hold of his face, places a kiss on his lips and then just holds him, shushing him quietly.

And damn his suspicious nature and this doubts about honesty- he knows Ed, and he choses to believe him.

He’s been vulnerable around people his whole life and constantly been fighting against it because he hates the feeling, but he has to admit this is different- Ed is right there with him, catching him in his fall, so he doesn’t just feel as weak and ridiculous as he usually does when he has to bare himself in front of someone else. It actually fills him with relief to let it all go and not be judged for it. Ed’s embrace keeps him grounded and safe in the process, as his brain and heart try to work through all those conflicting emotions while he comes apart.

When he’s calmed down he realises he’s got his fingers clawed into Ed’s shirt, and he’s left a wet spot on it, right there on the man’s shoulder, where he’d kept his face pressed tightly against him. He raises his head and Ed runs the back of his fingers across his cheeks, so carefully, pointer fingers right there on his waterline to catch the rest of his tears. Then he smiles weakly at Oswald.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

Oswald doesn’t even know what to say. It’s hard to go through this with his injuries, his breath is all over the place and and he’s still wobbly on his feet. He wouldn’t change anything about this moment though as Ed leans in and kisses him again. It’s so slow and tender and he’s never had this before, his brain shutting down as he melts into everything he’s feeling. The last time he’d been kissed was by a girl in second grade and the day after she’d flushed his pencil case down the toilet with a group of boys who thought he was weird. Ed doesn’t kiss him like a child though, this is personal and sensual and he’s pulling on Ed’s shirt again, pain in his arm be damned, because he needs to hold onto something when Ed tilts his head just so and nips on his lower lip. He’s gasping and then Ed’s tongue is touching his, and all his blood rushes south so quickly it makes him dizzy. Ed keeps kissing him until he’s practically whining into the brunette’s mouth, full on shaking in his arms.

He feels Ed’s fingertips travel across his skin, down the sides of his neck, over his shoulders and to his waist, dipping just slightly beneath the flimsy towel wrapped around him and pulling Oswald tighter against him. Ed is still very careful with his touches, but the movement makes Oswald’s erection press deliciously against Ed’s thigh anyway, and Oswald’s whole body twitches at the contact. He’s this close to complaining when Ed pulls away with a little peck to the corner of his mouth, but Ed is going to his knees once more and Oswald thinks he might faint from the image alone, and its implications. He’s holding onto the sink next to him with his good arm, injured one lying useless on Ed’s shoulder.

“What are you-“

“It’s okay” Ed says quietly and places a kiss on his stomach again, fingers searching for the tugged in edge of the towel on Oswald’s hips. “Let me take care of you.”

Oswald is sure he’s bright red everywhere, or maybe a ghastly white because he still feels like he’s going to just keel over and lose consciousness. This is so embarrassing, how do people do this, here are all his deepest and darkest desires laid out for Ed to see, and he’s so scared suddenly of everything that might go wrong, everything Ed might think about him. But he guesses that’s sort of the point- and surely Ed has seen worse sides of him.

“You… have been doing that” he whispers shakily and dares placing his fingers on the top of Ed’s head.

Ed just smiles up at him fondly and pushes his glasses up his nose, then goes back to peppering kisses across his stomach, and pulls until the towel falls away. The air in the tiny bathroom is thankfully still warm- and steamy- but Oswald finds himself gasping anyway, the dry gel in Ed’s hair cracking under his fingertips as he grabs a handful. Ed hums and scrapes his teeth lightly over Oswald’s hipbone, and when his palm wraps around the base of Oswald’s cock, Oswald feels his knees go weak. The hold he has on Ed’s head is more for stability than anything, and it must be painful for Ed, but he can’t stop tightening his grip as Ed’s mouthing across his lower stomach and then his dick.

The groan he makes sounds absolutely undone- which is how he feels; he’s never been touched intimately by anyone but himself, and ohgod, he can feel Ed’s breath on his balls and then his eyes roll back in his head when Ed’s lips wrap around him. This is going to be over so quickly, he thinks as he wishes this could go on forever.

He’s whimpering when Ed is testing out how far he can go, taking a bit more of him every time he goes down, and Oswald’s toes are scraping across the tiled floor, curling and uncurling with every move Ed makes. He’d have thought his nerves would make it impossible to simply enjoy this, but he can’t even help it- he’s pretty much done for when Ed starts using his tongue.

And then Ed is palming his balls and quickening his pace just a little bit and it’s all too much- there’s no fighting it, he’s on that plateau right before the fall, floating in a feeling of pure bliss. He’s glad his brain apparently works well enough to tell him he should probably warn Ed.

“Oh… I’m… I-”

And Ed hums around him happily, the vibrations rolling all the way along Oswald’s spine and that’s just not fair. The feeling alone would have been enough to push him over, but the idea that Ed doesn’t mind him coming in his mouth is the last straw. And he goes and does just that. He blacks out for a bit, thinks he hears Ed say “whoah” or something like that, and when he can process anything again, he’s back in Ed’s embrace and the brunette is chuckling at him. Oswald wants to punch him. He kisses him instead.

Then a full body shiver wrecks his body and Ed leans him against the sink. Ed’s eyes are still full of amusement and fondness, but his expression seems a little worried.

“I’ll get you some pyjamas, wait here” he says and Oswald doesn’t know what else to do anyway, he’s completely out of it, and the fact that Ed must have swallowed enters his thoughts and he can’t really form a thought beside that.

“That’s all it took to get out of that horrible hospital clothing?” he hears himself croak as Ed leaves the bathroom, and rummages around next door.

“Eh, it was just the easiest to put you in when you were out of it. Didn’t realise you hated them so much.”

When Ed comes back with a T-shirt and sweatpants Oswald notices he’s just standing there stark naked and still very breathless and zoned out, and this time he’s sure he’s blushing. Somehow Ed manages to be completely cavalier about the situation as he hands over the clothes. Oswald thinks he’s going to leave again and let him change, but Ed steps in close and tilts his head up.

“Are you ok?”

And if his chest could expand more than those few increments until his ribs complain, Oswald is sure it would have burst with the bout of affection that explodes inside him. He can’t speak, so he just nods, and lets Ed kiss him again.

Chapter Text

Quite a few small but vastly significant changes have taken place since that evening.

Ed used to sleep on the couch, letting Oswald hog the bed, but now they both sleep in it every night- together. They don’t cuddle, not exactly- Oswald thinks Ed is giving him space so he can rest comfortably with his injuries- but sometimes when he wakes before Ed, he finds the brunette’s head resting on his shoulder, or an arm thrown across his waist. And he tries to be really quiet and still so he can appreciate those moments for as long as possible, because without exception when Ed comes to, he will get off Oswald and apologise and go make breakfast.

And it’s not enough, not by a long shot. A few days ago Oswald had literally been inside Ed’s body, and now all he gets are fleeting instances of skin contact a few times a day. He doesn’t want to be this ridiculous, pining, weak version of himself, but he feels like he’s going crazy- because Ed hasn’t touched him in a sexual way since that time in the bathroom, and Oswald has never known this kind of frustration. There’s no other word for it- he’s insecure about initiating anything himself, and about why Ed doesn’t start anything, and he’s constantly distracted by how the bed smells so much more like Ed now, and how Ed mouths on his pen when he’s thinking, and how Ed’s butt looks in his boxer briefs when he gets up in the morning to make coffee. In summary, Oswald feels like a horny teenager, and he gets random erections all the time that he tries to hide from Ed, then wonders if he’s being silly keeping this from Ed, because they’d gone there before- but his shyness about the matter feels like this massive unconquerable force.

It’s not like Ed is distancing himself- of course he’s still treating Oswald’s injuries with all the same care he had been so far, and he does give him kisses all the time: a peck on the top of Oswald’s head when he clears away their plates, or one over the bandages of his bullet wound when he’s redressed it, and those sweet sweet ‘good morning’/‘good night’ kisses on his lips that still manage to make Oswald blush and think himself a fool for how much he cherishes them. Now and then he catches Ed looking at him as if he’d hung the moon, and that gets him feeling all kinds of giddy and stupid at the same time.

He’s back to his doubts about pretty much everything again- going through phases of suspicions about the root of the problem.

His first idea of being involved in a set-up might have been right all along. Ed could be planning something- something to simply hold over him, or to completely crush his soul with. It wouldn’t be the first time Ed’s lied to him over an extended period of time to fuck him over in the end. Or he might be controlled by someone else once more. For all Oswald knows this might not be Ed at all, but a clone or a robot.

On the other hand there’s less dramatic but just as horrific alternatives.

Maybe Ed is just not as interested in anything physical as Oswald is. He’s more of a rational, intellectual person by principal, it may make sense for him to not be that into sex at all. Their definitions of a romantic relationship might not align that way. Or maybe it does have to do with Oswald’s gender after all. Even though Ed hadn’t seemed to mind touching him intimately, maybe he’d figured out he didn’t exactly like it. Or he’d been disgusted by doing anything sexual with a man after all- or by Oswald in particular.

It’s an up and down of appreciating all those niceties and little touches Ed does grace him with, and then worrying over anything Ed doesn’t but Oswald wants more of with every second of every day. He’s going to go mad.

~ ~ ~

There’s almost nothing that could ruin Ed’s mood. His puzzles for the bat are done, and he’s decided on the proper hostage candidates and how and when to kidnap them, where to place them, and which traps to lay for their supposed savior. Now the only thing left is to distribute the boxes in Gotham, and actually build those traps at the right spots, and he can start his little vermin hunt.

He’s in no hurry though, because he’s enjoying the time with his patient. And before he puts his full attention to the bat, he plans to enjoy it a lot more. He’s been holding himself back from doing everything he wants to do to Oswald, so as to allow the man’s injuries to heal just a bit more- and they have: his bullet wound is basically just scabs at this point, and his breathing capacity has improved a lot. When Ed had gone down on him a few days earlier, he’d ended up fearing Oswald might faint, or damage his ribs further with the way he’d been panting. Surely it couldn’t have been beneficial to his physical health and Ed wants him to get better not worse. Ed has enough patience to wait, even though Oswald keeps looking at him so sweetly, and blushing when he’s caught, and gasping every single time Ed kisses him- and yeah, maybe Ed does not have that much patience after all.

He gets sentimental enough about Oswald sleeping next to him, and wearing his clothes- a plain white T and faded green houndstooth sweats that hang so low on his hips Oswald has to constantly pull them up again- if he focuses on his baser emotions any more he might end up drooling like an animal (the bruises on Oswald’s neck have faded to faint purple-greenish spotted lines that Ed wants to leave bite marks on top of).

It’s all a bit too much, and before he snaps, he figures he’d rather do this the right way. So that morning after their breakfast, he puts on a teal adidas track suit and a wig, and sits down on his desk to put in some colored contact lenses and apply facial prosthetics. This time he wants to make the trip to a store himself, because he has some personal items he’s planning to pick up.

He hears the toilet flush and a few seconds later Oswald walks into the hall, stops dead in the doorway and looks at him as if Ed’s lost his mind.

“What are you doing?”

“Going shopping. Do you want anything specific?” Ed asks quietly, trying to keep his mouth tight as he’s gluing a moustache to his upper lip.

Oswald thinks for a moment before he ventures a try.

“Marlboro Red? Gin? Vermouth? Some olives?”

He hobbles over to the couch and sits, as Ed imitates a quiz show noise indicating the wrong answer.

“Try again.”

“I’m fine” Oswald sighs and leans back, closing his eyes. And this terrible urge to just walk over and lay down on top of him, all cozy and warm, makes itself known but Ed fights it down, because he needs to get some things for them, if nothing else just so they don’t starve soon. So as petty consolation he goes to the sofa as soon as his disguise is dried, and leans over the armrest, placing a kiss on Oswald’s forehead. The smaller one blushes and stares at him with such obvious and strong desire, Ed feels like his heart stops for a second. He tries to smile it off instead of ravaging Oswald right there and then.

“Be back soon.”

“I’ll hold down the fort” Oswald whispers and smirks, but it looks a bit off- forced. Maybe it’s just because Ed is seeing his face upside down from where he’s standing behind him.

~ ~ ~

With Ed gone the warehouse is eerily quiet. No tinkering or cooking noises, no quiet little monologues Ed’s telling himself when he’s working, no humming or singing songs. Oswald tries to busy himself with Ed’s TV program, but it’s still strange to be here alone. He keeps throwing glances over his shoulder or thinking he heard something somewhere in the cluttered hall… which is ridiculous. He’s a grown man and his strength has almost fully returned, he shouldn’t be seeing shadows everywhere just because Ed isn’t there. Holding himself back from thinking too much about those other shadows from his nightmares, he finds Ed’s gun in the desk drawer and keeps it close by. It only makes him feel slightly better.

He’s used to loneliness, but that doesn’t mean he’s ever truly been comfortable with it.

His paranoia gets to be too much after a while and he withdraws to the kitchenette. It’s easier to be alone in a small room, he thinks, than the huge warehouse. He makes a few calls- to his guys and his lawyer; business is a bit of a mess now that he’s a fugitive, but he’s sure there’ll be some way to work around those kinks in the legalities.

Then he falls back into brooding. He walks back and forth between bathroom and bed, needing to exert some of that nervous energy balled up inside him. He wonders if Ed even thinks of them as being in a relationship now. Naively, Oswald does, but of course he realises a love confession is no binding contract to anything. He has Ed’s words in his head when he stops in front of the mirror, right there where Ed had told him. Ed loves him. But does he?

When he looks up at his reflection the first thing that hits him is that his bruises don’t look as bad anymore. Sure, his eye is still black- well purple actually, but the swelling’s gone. He stares at the other one- the one that cements that Ed is his biggest vulnerability. It’s a kind of milky almost-white, and the huge pupil cannot change size according to light anymore, of course it doesn’t work that well in general anymore. It looks creepy, inhuman almost, and in fact Oswald thinks at the moment his whole appearance is comparable to a creature right out of a horror movie.

His face is covered in red and violet spots still, as are his neck, torso and arms. The white T-shirt he’s wearing is making him look even paler than usual, like he’s going to be sick any second- his pasty complexion standing out with those freckles people used to mock him for, saying his face looked dirty. When he was a small child his mother had told him it was stardust that had exploded on his skin, leaving a map of the night sky behind. As a teen he’d tried to hide them with her make-up once, and then his schoolmates had made even more fun of him for covering them up.

He sighs as he remembers all those horrible feelings, like acid boiling up from the centre of his stomach, the nausea that rides along with public mortification. Before he realises, he falls right back into it- rather than a memory, that emotion is right there again, a chip on his shoulder that he’s gotten used to ignore.

He’s not really bothered by his own appearance on a daily basis anymore- he likes how he can alter his looks with clothing and hairstyles, but when it comes down to it, all these things are more of a status symbol for him. As an adult, far more than his body he measures his worth by his actions and accomplishments. It’s difficult to keep these old insecurities from rearing their quite literally ugly heads though, when there’s a physical relationship blooming for the first time in his life.

Ed’s T-shirt is swallowing him, he looks a bit like a kid in it. Of course Ed is taller than him but also built differently. Oswald doesn’t have the same kind of metabolism as Ed, who’s slightly lanky but muscular by nature, and with all this lying around and getting fed Ed’s delicious cooking, Oswald’s gotten a bit pudgy around the hips and stomach. He also hasn’t forgotten about his bad leg, and how it makes just walking down the street like a normal person impossible.

He doesn’t think of himself as attractive. Never has. In fact, the opposite is far closer to the truth- even now that he doesn’t brood or cry about his appearance anymore the way he had when he was younger, he’s accepted as fact that he’s just far below average when it comes to beauty. But he’s very much reminded of it now.

Because Ed’s past girlfriends had all been gorgeous.

He’d have thought punching a mirror would result in worse injuries, but there’s only a few very minor cuts on his knuckles. The iodine salve and bandages are still right there, and it’s as good a thing to focus on as anything, because Oswald’s breathing is bordering on that hyperventilating speed again. He’s found it’s easy to get there when you literally cannot take one full breath. Wrapping his hand with only the use of the arm with the bullet wound is a bit tough, but this doesn’t need to be perfect, his only aim is to stop the bleeding and leave the bathroom as quickly as possible.

~ ~ ~

This song that’s been playing at the shop is still stuck in Ed’s head when he gets back to the hideout and pulls off his fake facial structures and beard, walking by the stolen ambulance and through the hall to his desk.

“Hey baby,
I’m just about starving tonight.
I’m dying for some action.”

He discards the prosthetics in the bin and notes that Oswald is not at his usual spot on the couch where Ed had left him. Well, he might just be using the bathroom.

“Da da da, ladidum.”

The wig is next, put away with some others in a wardrobe. He leaves the tracksuit jacket there as well, then picks the grocery bags back up and goes to the kitchenette, still singing.

“Can’t start a fire without a spark.”

As Ed steps through the door, he’s greeted by Oswald sitting on the bed, facing him.

“Oh, hi. I was wondering where you’d run off to” Ed says and puts the bag with the actual groceries on the counter, the other one by the bedside table.

Oswald stays silent and something’s wrong. Ed is instantly on high alert, good mood shot to pieces. It’s only now that he notices Oswald’s haphazard new bandage.

“Your hand, what-?”

“I might have had a little… accident” Oswald croaks quietly. His voice sounds all weird- monotone and detached. Ed kneels down in front of him and tries to catch his gaze.

“Are you okay?”

Oswald is resolutely not looking at him, but he does let Ed take his hand and pull off the gauze. There’s a few cuts on the backs of his fingers, but nothing major, which already calms Ed down quite a bit.

“Define okay” is such a low whisper Ed isn’t sure if he was meant to hear it, and Oswald is still avoiding eye contact. He looks broken and apathetic, and Ed’s heart sinks a bit- he’d been doing so well, Ed doesn’t understand why he’s fallen back into that depressed state.

“What happened?”

Oswald’s eyes flick to the bathroom and Ed quickly rewraps his hand (doing a much better job than Oswald had), gets up and takes a look. He finds the cracked mirror and stares for a second, wondering about Oswald’s mental situation- then he takes the little dust pan and brush out of the bathroom cabinet and cleans up the floor. There’s not a lot of broken pieces there, so it doesn’t take long until he’s back with Oswald.

Who’s finally looking at him.

“You’re not mad I broke your mirror?”

It must be written all over his face that he’s more concerned for Oswald.

“Meh” he says and shrugs, “I can relate.”

Oswald huffs an unconvincing little laugh and nods, staring down at his hand and making a fist, then uncurling his fingers, over and over again.

“What happened?” Ed repeats himself.

He’s a little scared now, mostly of doing something wrong, or freaking Oswald out, so he doesn’t approach him but places the folding chair in front of the fridge and sits down facing the man. Oswald doesn’t raise his head, instead looks up at Ed through his lashes- and Ed’s seen that look before, this menacing determination. Before Oswald even pulls out the gun from under the blanket, Ed already figured something like that would happen.

“You see, Edward” Oswald starts, and he’s not pointing the gun at Ed, not quite, he’s just gesticulating with it, “Unlike you, I’m a gut-person. I usually trust my instincts.”

Edward can see where this is going- this is exactly what he thought was going to happen if Oswald wouldn’t believe him. He screwed up somewhere.

“And I thought something was off here, right from the start.”

Oswald doesn’t seem manic, more like he’s made up his mind and cannot be bargained with. But Ed knows everyone can be bargained with, if you have the right goods. He’s trying to think of something, but coming up empty. How do you get someone to trust you, especially with their kind of history?

“I still don’t know what it is, but it matters little” Oswald laughs bitterly and shrugs, then does focus the gun at Ed, “You’re still my greatest weakness.”

Ed thinks he’s most likely right, and it was him who first taught Oswald that. Damn his past self.

“I should probably shoot you.”

Heaving a sigh, Ed lets his head fall back against the fridge with a thump, gazing up into the ceiling light of the warehouse. It still irks him to lose to the Penguin, but this time it’s way more personal. He was looking forward to being with Oswald. Yet, as far as their score goes, the man actually has every right to shoot him, doesn’t he.

“So that’s how it is” Ed sighs again, “And here I thought we were going to have sex.”

He hears Oswald clear his throat- or choke, he’s not sure.

“What?”

Ed straightens up again and points at the bag by the bed. Oswald is staring at him open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Well that is gonna be awkward for you to sift through after I’m dead” Ed mumbles, defeated, “Maybe just… throw that away, or… I don’t know-”

“You want… Why are you doing this?” Oswald says and his voice is wavering- so is his gun arm.

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to do this.”

“Excuse me?”

Oswald is almost tearing up, and really none of this is going according to plan at all- the least of what Ed wanted to do was make Oswald cry again.

“I mean, I get… I get that your affection… is different… from my feelings.”

Ed leans forward in his chair, but Oswald stops him with a gesture, gun still pointed at him shakily.

“Oswald, what are you talking about?” he asks and raises his hands slightly, hoping the man won’t shoot him before they can figure out what the hell their misunderstanding was.

“Ed, I get it. I don’t expect… anything more than what you’re willing to give to me.”

“Aaaand I don’t intend to give more than what I am willing to give.”

Oswald pulls a face, as if this conversation is causing him actual bodily harm.

“Ed, I’m not an idiot. Even just… aside from the fact that you’ve never had any attraction towards men, I know how I look.”

There’s a blush spreading slowly across Oswald’s cheeks and sideways to his ears. Ed can’t entirely believe that this is what the problem was.

“What-“ he starts, but Oswald rambles on.

“Last week when you… you weren’t even reacting… it’s fine if you’re not attracted to me… you know, in that way. Just don’t act like you are.”

“Reacting… you mean physically?”

Is Oswald mad at him because he didn’t get it up while he was figuring out how to give the first blowjob of his life?

Oswald clears his throat awkwardly.

“Well, yes.”

He’s as red as a tomato now, but at least he’s put the gun down and Ed is pretty sure he’s not going to die tonight after all.

“Oh, Oswald.”

Taking his chances, Ed gets up and walks over, sitting beside Oswald as the smaller one lays the gun on the bedside table. He looks ashamed and completely at a loss.

“Listen to me” Ed starts and dares to take his hand, the wrapped up one, holding it tightly between his, “I meant it when I told you how I feel about you. Yes, I’ve never had any feelings like this for a man before, but that doesn’t mean that these feelings I have now are any less pronounced- I feel about you the same way I felt about Miss Kringle, Isabella. Lee.”

Oswald’s jaw tightens at the mention of his exes, but Ed needs him to hear this.

“Only… more. The thought of losing you again… you need to be there. In my life.”

That finally gets Oswald to look up at him again, shy almost- and it’s kind of amazing how many facets of his personality this one is showing in just a few minutes.

“I know how it feels when you’re gone. When I thought you were dead, I was spiralling- sure, I was going through a lot of things back then, but anyway… It’s different now. I do love you. That includes all of you. Not just your company, or the way your stubborn sneaky brain works- but your body as well. All the parts that make you who you are.”

He’s almost managed to make Oswald smirk, but now he’s getting a bit flustered himself. He wonders if he’s ever spoken about his emotions this much in one go to anyone.

“Now, while, yes, I wasn’t… err, as excited as you might have wanted me to be when we… well, I was more focused on the, ehm, task at hand. And you were injured. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to touch you. Quite the opposite in fact. I would very much like to touch you. A lot.”

Butting his forehead at Oswald’s temple, he thinks he would also very much like to kiss him. He really can feel the heat from Oswald’s blush on his skin. Or maybe Oswald just has a naturally high body temperature. Oswald takes a shallow sigh and his whole body relaxes noticeably, then he entwines his fingers with Ed’s and returns the gentle headbutt.

“I really hope you’re not lying to me” he croaks and Edward has to snicker at him.

“Can’t you tell?”

Sure that his elevated heartbeat is palpable even through the layers of gauze, he pulls their hands up and holds Oswald’s to his chest. And then the man is finally meeting Ed’s gaze dead on.

~ ~ ~

Oswald is embarrassed beyond comprehension, but it fades into the background when Ed leans in and kisses him. On the back of his hand, pressed tightly against the other man, he can feel the heavy thumping of Ed’s heart, and when they part again it’s obvious that Ed’s breath has quickened. They both seem to be at a loss for words.

Ed is scooting closer and lifting him slightly, an urgent touch and a bit of teamwork and he ends up in Ed’s lap with his back against the headboard. Boxed in and legs around the brunette’s waist. Oswald can’t say he’s ever been happier to be caged in, although he still feels ridiculous and anxious because of everything. Once again he’s choosing to trust Ed, but it’s also so surreal to be wanted by the man.

He loses his trail of thought when they go back to making out- he’s always been appreciative of physical pleasures, and now as well he simply revels in his enjoyment of the experience. Ed’s hands find their way under his T-shirt and they feel cool on his waist. He wouldn’t mind though if Ed would stop being so goddamn gentle with them. If anything makes up for it, it’s the way he kisses Oswald, all passion and no restraint there. It’s the best thing in the whole world- kissing Ed.

When Ed pulls back, Oswald observes his blown pupils, clearly visible even behind the dark brown contacts he’s wearing, and the slight flush on his cheeks. Thinking that he’s the cause for it sends a strange rush through Oswald. Then one of Ed’s hands sneaks down and grabs his erection over the sweatpants, and he has to suck in a gasp. He couldn’t possibly describe how he feels, how overwhelmed he gets from being touched so intimately by someone as they’re staring right into his eyes. And it’s Edward.

“Tell me if you’re in pain” Ed says and his voice has gone all raspy and low. Oswald can’t help but shiver.

“I’m fine” he whispers and groans when Ed starts rubbing him, slowly- more exploration than any rhythm with a goal in mind. Ed takes advantage of his open mouth and puts his tongue between Oswalds lips again and Oswald doesn’t mind that either, not one bit. He’s holding onto the brunette’s hair and he’s pretty sure he’s clenching his thighs involuntarily, clinging onto Ed’s torso. His fingers find a straight protrusion on Ed’s scalp and he’s drawn back to sobriety suddenly, even with Ed’s palm on his dick still making his toes curl.

“Is that…?” he gasps against Ed’s lips and Ed hums.

“Yeah. Dr Strange’s brain surgery? Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

Ed nudges Oswald’s forehead with his and smiles, kind of devilishly.

“You want to check that it’s really just that old scar?”

No, Oswald wants to hit him for making fun of his suspicions. Which Ed can apparently read on his face because he snickers, then takes Oswald’s hand by the wrist and pulls it down, pressing Oswald’s palm against the tent in his tracksuit pants.

Oh. Ed really is reacting to this. To him.

His sense of touch is a bit disrupted by the bandage on his hand, but it’s still all kinds of amazing to trace the outline of Ed’s hard dick, and Ed seems to agree, because he lets out a long sigh and his eyes fall closed. His breathing is harsh but other than that he looks completely at ease.

“How can you be so calm about this?” Oswald mumbles before he can help himself, still staring at the blissed out expression on Ed’s face. Ed opens one eye at him.

“Sex? Uh, because it is a perfectly natural thing that everyone does.”

Oswald gasps because the brunette is stroking his thumb in circles over the head of his cock. There’s a wet spot forming right there on the green pyjama pants.

“Not everyone” he breathes into the small space between them.

“Hm?”

“Uh, I’ve never…”

Ed blinks at him once, but he doesn’t laugh, and he doesn’t back off. He stalls the motion of his hand though and Oswald wants to kill himself.

“Do you want to stop?” Ed asks, serious but gentle- somehow more intimate than anything they’re doing.

“No” Oswald says and squirms, hopes Ed will please just resume moving his fingers, “No, anything but that, I… I just wanted you to know.”

Ed smiles and leans in, nuzzles Oswalds nose with his.

“So just relax. We’ll go slow” is what he says, but he’s pulling on the sweatpants until they’re around Oswald’s thighs and his dick is just standing there between them and Oswald is so embarrassed he gets dizzy from how quickly the blood rushes to his head. He doesn’t have much time to put himself down though, because Ed is doing the same thing to his own tracksuit bottoms and then his boxer briefs and Oswald can’t stop staring when Ed’s cock bounces free. Just seeing it makes something short circuit in his brain, a million thoughts trying to get to the forefront, but all he ends up registering is want.

Ed shuffles a bit closer until their erections are touching and Oswald yelps, a shudder wrecking his whole body, and he’s still just stupidly looking at their dicks lined up. Ed’s is a bit longer and darker than his. He hears Ed spit and then the brunette wraps a palm around the both of them and Oswald’s eyes fall close. The back of his head hits the bedhead with a thunk that he doesn’t hear over his own moan and he’s digging his heels into the mattress when Ed starts stroking.

He can feel Ed’s lips, mouthing along his neck and it’s suddenly imperative that he gets that mouth on his again, so he grabs Ed by the jaw and pulls him into a kiss. And Ed groans, sudden and loud, and the steady rhythm of his hand stutters. When Oswald looks at him, Ed’s eyes are half-lidded and dark, and he hooks a finger into the webspace between Oswald’s thumb and pointer, guides his hand down until it’s resting right around Ed’s throat.

It manages to feel like the dirtiest thing they’ve done so far, and they’re both trembling now, Ed looking half crazed and his chest heaving with each harsh breath he takes. Oswald wants to tear him apart. So he does.

He adds pressure slowly, digging his fingers into the soft space right below Ed’s jaw and feels the brunette swallow once. Ed raises both his arms and holds onto the headboard, right next to Oswald’s head and rocks his hips, creating delicious friction between them now they’re squeezed together so tightly. They keep their eyes locked and this is so exhilarating, having this much power over Ed, and watching him lose all his usually so tight composure, and the fact that Ed is letting him.

What ever happened to taking it slow?

Then Ed croaks his name and he realises Ed is probably going to need his breath back if they want to continue. He releases his hold and Ed gasps, lets his forehead fall against Oswald’s and stays still. It takes a few seconds for him to calm down and then he’s nuzzling Oswald’s face.

“What do you want to do?” he mouths across Oswald’s lips, and Oswald thinks ‘this’.

“Everything” he says instead, and Ed laughs, breathless.

“Can you be a bit more specific?”

Not really, not right now, not when Ed moves his hips, one sensually lazy motion that makes his dick slide all the way along Oswald’s.

“I… eh… I… what do you want to do?”

Ed sighs and kisses him, sweetly, a few pecks along his lower lip.

“I want to be inside you.”

Oswald’s brain goes into overdrive again, a million pictures rushing around up there.

“Uh, if you want that as well” Ed adds, still sounding slightly out of it.

All Oswald can manage is a shaky nod. Ed places a last, lingering kiss on his lips, then shuffles back a bit, the movement reminding Oswald that oh, they’re still dick to dick, until they’re not anymore and Ed looks at him in a way that implies Ed’s brain is working far better than Oswald’s at the moment. Sober, almost, if it weren’t for the flush on Ed’s face. It’s unfair, is what it is.

“Time to see what’s in the bag” Ed huffs, snickering to himself and bending to get said bag and place it on the bed between them. Oswald thinks it’s more than ridiculous sitting here with their erections out and Ed wiggling his eyebrows at him, happy as a kid in a candy store.

“I didn’t really know what we were going to get up to, so I got a lot of stuff” Ed says as he pulls out a bottle and hands it to Oswald, who’s already getting scared, but at least this is just lube, this he can deal with.

“This woman at the adult store, she gave me a lot of tips ab-“

“You seriously discussed this with a sales person?” Oswald asks him, horrified, putting the bottle down on the bed.

“Well, she was very helpful” Ed says, pleased with himself, placing a package of rubbers next to the lube, “As we’ve talked about, I’ve never done this with a man before- I didn’t even know there were special kinds of condoms for anal sex, did you?”

“Please stop.”

“I mean, we don’t have to use them” he rambles on, pulling more stuff out of the bag, “But apparently semen can be quite irritating to the mucosa of the human colon, so…”

“I get it, shut up” Oswald pleads, getting overwhelmed by Ed’s tenacious curiosity, and anxious about what else he’s in for just because Ed has apparently no sense of shame about anything that catches his interest for whatever reason. He’s also gone flaccid and he definitely is self-conscious about the whole ordeal, so he stuffs himself back into the sweatpants. Watching Ed place another box next to the other lined up items on the mattress, he thinks he should have known Ed would be meticulous about this.

“Organising and planning…” he mumbles, “Of course you’re excited.”

Ed halts his sifting through the bag and looks up at him, and Oswald can feel the intensity of his searching gaze, even while being unable to hold it.

“Do you not want-“ Ed starts and thankfully, finally pulls up his own track pants.

“No” Oswald sighs, runs a hand over his face in hopes he can wipe some of his blush off, “I… I’m just… what is that?”

Hand still on his cheek, he focuses on the last box Ed has taken out and he gets this sinking feeling in his gut, a hunch of where this is heading.

“An enema” Ed says happily, and ohgodno he’s going to elaborate, “Aside from making this far more sanitary, which might ease a lot of tension about that aspect, I was told it would also make the act more comforta-“

“This is horrible, how did I end up here” Oswald breathes. A minute ago he was in heaven and now he thinks he’s in some sort of bad comedy skit. Ed seems to be fine with the whole setting though, still calm and collected as he goes on.

“Oswald, if you don’t want to do it, we can talk about oth-“

“Shut up” Oswald bites, jaw clenched. He doesn’t get too far in his terror though, because Ed asks:

“Should I do it?”

And he’s pretty sure Ed doesn’t mean doing it to Oswald, he means switching. Oswald hadn’t even thought about that. Time stops as his brain goes through all those wonderful implications, pictures of Ed laid out underneath him, panting and desperate. It’s too hot in the small kitchenette all of a sudden, but somehow Ed’s nonchalance dares him to grow a pair and push his insecurities aside. Because as tempting as the other position looks and feels in his mind, he’s still hung up on the first idea of Ed fucking him. Whatever horrors this small blue carton box might hold for him suddenly seems like a small price to pay for how he imagines that experience to be.

“Uh, another time maybe?” he says quietly, reaching for the enema, “I do… want to… I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t think he sounds very convincing, but there must have been enough determination in his voice for Ed, who looks at him way too smitten for the situation they’re in.

“Do you need me to tell you how-“

“I’m sure there’s instructions, I’ll be fine” he harshly interrupts and jumps off the bed, a bit too quickly apparently, because his bruised torso is aching now. He’d kind of forgotten that he was still injured.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” he snaps at Ed, turning around in the bathroom doorway, “Can you just… like put on some music or something.”

He’s getting a bit dizzy from another bout of embarrassment.

“Loud.”

“Can do” Ed beams at him.

An awkward eternity that is probably more akin to 30 minutes later he finds Ed by the stove making early dinner, back to wearing his glasses but still in the adidas pants and white T. Oswald has kind of numbed down his mortification- going through what he just did in the bathroom would have been impossible if he allowed himself to be anything but clinical about it- and he realises how hungry he is. They’d skipped out on lunch while Ed was out, and he’s fully on board with whatever fills the room with that delicious smell.

“Hey” Ed smiles at him, then goes back to chopping some vegetables, “How are you feeling?”

And just as Oswald opens his mouth to answer he feels a little rumble in his lower stomach and how is he ever going to live this kind of degradation down.

“Nope, wait. Give me a bit more time” he says quickly and retreats to the bathroom again.

Chapter Text

The next time Oswald leaves the bathroom he’s absolutely sure he’s done. He’d also decided to have a good long shower and is rubbing his hair dry as he observes the changes to the room.

Ed has produced a small table from somewhere (they used to eat either by the bed when Oswald’s injuries had been worse, or the sofa/desk in the warehouse hall), which is now standing by the kitchenette, with two folding chairs on either side. And there’s an absolutely delectable looking meal on it- and even some candles. What a cheesy perfectionist Ed is, Oswald thinks, but cannot deny appreciating him for it.

If this were a fairytale they’d be in the grand dining hall in his mansion, and his body wouldn’t still hurt all over. This is fine as well though, he admits as Ed smiles at him.

Ed turns down the music spewing from an antique looking radio by the pantry, some kind of old-timey jazz that had warbled it’s way around the whole place, even audible over the running water of the shower. Oswald speaks before Ed can ask him how he feels again.

“I don’t think I have ever been more clean in my whole life” he says and sighs, “I don’t know how to feel about that. Also the mood is totally ruined now.”

It might be a petty thing to say with Ed’s spartan romantic dinner right next to him, but Ed just laughs quietly and takes the towel from him, pulls out one of the chairs and urges him to sit.

“Thank you” Oswald mumbles, slightly ashamed of his own fantasies in the light of Ed’s jolly pragmatism. The meal does look and smell delicious and his grumbling stomach agrees.

Ed discards the towel in the bathroom, then pulls a bottle of red wine from the fridge.

“Would this help?” he asks, all cocky because he can probably see Oswald’s disposition brighten already. 

“I thought you wouldn’t let me drink.”

“One glass of wine won’t do much damage” Ed says, filling two glasses and handing one to Oswald.

They clink and take a sip and Oswald hums when the alcohol hits his tongue. It’s not exactly high end, but Ed still knows what kind of wine Oswald prefers, and after weeks of only painkillers to dull his senses with, it tastes like the best he’s ever had.

Ed doesn’t sit, but squats next to him and slides the short sleeve of the T-shirt Oswald’s wearing up to his shoulder. He’s looking at the injury, and this amazing thing happens- as soon as his fingers touch Oswald’s skin, Oswald realises it won’t take much to get that mood he was talking about back. He still feels all kinds of wound up and Ed’s proximity makes him remember the excitement from just over an hour ago, and like that the want has returned.

“Looks good” Ed says and wraps up the bullet wound.

“Still hurts when I move it though” Oswald says. He feels like his voice is thin and weak. He takes another sip of wine and Ed redresses his hand as well.

“Hm, it’s bound to with all that trauma to the tissue. It’ll probably be history in a few days.”

Ed gets up and even though the other chair is just a few feet away, Oswald feels sad when he leaves his personal space.

“Shall we eat?”

Dinner really is nice and with the help of the alcohol they fall into pleasant conversation- memories mostly, good and bad ones, or both intertwined due to their kind of history Oswald supposes. He’s reminded of the first time they did this, Ed’s small apartment and a load of Chinese takeout, and a guy they stabbed to death- together.

“I still can’t believe Babs gave birth in stiletto heels- while under attack” Ed laughs, head leaning on his hand, elbow supported on the table, all easy and mellow.

“If hat kid gets anything from her mother, she is going to be the toughest little lady” Oswald agrees and takes another sip.

They’re done eating, but he’s determined to finish the bottle, already on his second glass extending that allowance of one Ed had spoken of before dinner. Ed is running a fingertip over the rim of his wine glass absent-mindedly, creating one continuous sound that breaks through the quiet music coming from the radio. Oswald wants that finger to be on his skin instead. The alcohol is doing nothing to calm either his strengthening desire or his nerves that are starting to act up again.

“You know I was wrong by the way” Ed says, changing the topic suddenly. His gaze is unfocused, mind a mile away.

“That’s unusual. You admitting you’re wrong.”

That gets Ed to look up at him, smirking.

“Well, maybe not wrong. There were just a few things I hadn’t factored into my conclusion.”

Oswald rolls his eyes at him, but can’t help but be amused at Ed’s insurmountable ego.

“Which conclusion was that?”

“What I told you when your mother died.”

Ed’s smile is still in place when Oswald’s falls off his face. So Ed is reminiscing about that time as well.

“Love is weakness” Oswald mumbles and it wasn’t a question.

“Maybe” Ed admits, still making his wine glass sing, “But think about it. You and I- we’ve always been stronger together.”

There’s a sparkle in Ed’s eyes and it’s terribly alluring to have him stare at Oswald as if he wants to eat him alive. It’s also very similar to the look he used to sport when they’d been feuding, that glee that overcomes him when someone falls into a trap of his.

“We’ve knocked each other down a few notches as well, if you remember” Oswald says and Ed laughs quietly, finishes his wine. The jazz sounds strangely wrong without Ed’s overtone.

“More than once” Oswald continues.

“Nothing’s ever good enough for you, is it?” Ed says with the kind of confident smugness that comes from knowing someone well enough to call them like they are. Oswald should be affronted, but instead his heart swells with affection for this asshole. ‘You are’ he thinks.

“Well, if trying to please me is too big of a challenge-“

“I love a good challenge” Ed says and grins, flirty and confident, and Oswald thinks he’s been led on, but he can’t find it in him to mind. It might be because he’s tipsy, or because he’s sick of being suspicious and defensive towards Ed, or because he’s looking forward to what’s going to happen next, but he finds he likes being seduced like this. Maybe Ed really does know him too well.

Incapable of holding eye contact any longer, Oswald downs the last of his wine, and Ed snickers, gets up and clears the table.

Oswald doesn’t know how to classify his nervousness- as excitement or anxiety. He wishes he could hide in another bottle of wine, but he also wants to be sober enough to appreciate whatever else is going to go down. This is different than what he’s used to- this isn’t his insecurities coming back to haunt him, this is that kind of feeling of being too hot but unsure of how to jump into the cold water or how deep the pool is going to be.

“Do you want to back out?” Ed asks him in a way that implies he wouldn’t mind. It’s not as if Oswald had any intention to not go through with this- especially because he really wants to get that blissful skin contact back. It’s almost like a fire in his chest- this is where he’s wanted to be with Ed for so long, but maybe that is exactly why it’s so frightening. That’s not all it is though, it’s also terribly intriguing, and he thinks he’s way beyond ready for it- or as ready as he’s ever going to get.

“No” he says, more confidently than he feels, “After all… that” and his gaze flickers to the bathroom and Ed hums in amusement, “No, I’m… are you really going to make me say it?”

Ed grins at him from the kitchenette, where he’s putting the plates in the sink. Then he ushers Oswald out of the chair, so he can fold them and the table and move them out of the way, leaning against the far wall.

It’s undeniably awkward just standing in the middle of the room thinking about what they’re going to do. Oswald finds his eyes drawn to the bed, where Ed has apparently put away all the stuff from his sex shop escapade, only the condoms and lube are lying on the bedside table. He’s reminded of earlier that evening and just the memory is making his blood rush south. He supposes he might still be edgy because he didn’t finish. Neither did Ed. He wonders if the brunette is as eager as him to continue where they’d left off.

It seems so because as soon as he’s done bringing a bit of order to the room Ed plants himself in front of Oswald, no words, and cups Oswald’s cheeks, leans down and kisses him. Ed’s touches feel more urgent than before as well, hands dropping when Oswald reciprocates the kiss and sneaking under his T-shirt. They go all the way up his back, until the pressure on Oswald’s shoulder blades makes him step in closer automatically and on the end of a content moan from Oswald, Ed takes the opportunity of his parted lips to deepen the kiss. Like this, bodies slotted together from thigh to chest, it’s almost ridiculous how quickly Oswald becomes a struggling mess.

He’s pulling Ed against him by the collar of his T-shirt, and Ed’s hands slide to Oswald’s waist, fingernails biting on the way. There’s goosebumps erupting on his skin, tickling the back of his arms, his lower back, where Ed’s hands are sneaking down still, drawing him in tightly. He realises Ed isn’t stopping but his fingers slip just a tad under the waistband of the sweatpants and Oswald moans again, instantly turned on beyond his better judgement. He wants Ed’s hands all over him.

He thinks he mewls when Ed’s palms do skid into his pants- well technically they’re Ed’s pants- and cup his asscheeks, and at the same time Ed’s mouth pushes hard against his, tongue insistent on Oswald’s, and another pull on him and their crotches align so Oswald can feel how hard they both are. It shouldn’t be so hot to be manhandled like this, but the reality is he wishes Ed could treat him even more carelessly.

Then Ed slips a finger down between his cheeks, just ghosting over his asshole and Oswald yelps, whole body stuttering as he pushes up onto his tiptoes. He feels oversensitive there, probably because of his own ministrations back in the bathroom, and he’s sure Ed can feel how his dick jumps when the brunette rubs lightly, a slow back and forth across his rim. It’s like a shock to his whole system and for a silly second he can’t believe Ed’s touching him there. He’s gasping against Ed’s mouth and looking into his eyes and fuck is he serious, are they going to do this standing- because Oswald’s knees are already jelly and he’s pretty sure there’s a perfectly good bed right behind him.

Ed hums as if he read his thoughts and approves of that idea, the corners of his mouth turning up as he leads the both of them these few steps over to it. Oswald’s a bit out of it, focused on the sensations running through his body, so he doesn’t register how exactly it happens, but he ends up on his back on the mattress with Ed looming over him, and where did that teasing finger go?

Ed is pulling on his T-shirt though and he’s fully on board with losing clothes. It takes a bit of effort due to his sore torso, Ed helping him until the item is discarded on the floor, and thankfully Ed’s mouth is on his again. Oswald could do this forever, he thinks, Ed’s warm solid weight pressing down on him, tongues sliding over lips and teeth and gums, hands exploring each other’s bodies. Ed’s fingernails scratch lightly over his nipples and make him twitch, feeling ridiculous about how weak he’s becoming to his body’s sensory perceptions. He’s getting dizzy with how agitated he is, every touch simultaneously too much and yet not enough.

He lets his fingertips slide over Ed’s T-shirt- his chest, down his stomach, and Ed shivers a bit at the light brush, ticklish, then moves into him just that little bit so his dick slots right into the grove between Oswald’s and his thigh. They both moan and Ed starts rolling his hips again and Oswald can’t form a proper thought- aside from how good just this bit of rutting feels, it’s so suggestive, this is how Ed’s going to move when he’s in him. He thinks he can feel his own cock salivate at the image. His hands grip Ed’s T-shirt like a vise, like it’s the only lifeline keeping him from drowning in pleasure.

Ed’s palms run down his flanks to his hips and Oswald is over-excited about where this is going, doesn’t pay attention for a second and takes a breath that seems to be too deep for his cracked ribs, especially laid out on his back as he is. He breaks away from the kiss and twists his upper body to the side and yeah that was not a good idea either, he thinks vaguely, as he tries and fails to reign in his coughing. When he gets his breath under control he finds Ed looking at him- concerned and thoughtful, only a bit of color on his cheeks belying the state he’s in. Oswald hates this, wishes to return to the passion from a few seconds ago.

“Can you… lift your legs in this position?” Ed asks, sitting back on his haunches and Oswald wants to cry for the loss of his body warmth.

He sighs and gets himself together, attempts to comply with Ed’s suggestion. It’s only when you’re injured that you notice how connected every part of your body is, Oswald thinks, because in order to raise his thighs, he has to use his abs, and when he does contract those, he can already feel his ribcage complaining. He gives up before he hurts himself further.

“Uh” he says eloquently, “Yeah, not really, not for long…”

Ed is still studying him as if he’s trying to figure him out and Oswald’s heart sinks when he gets his brain to function well enough to realise how big of a problem his disability is in the face of their current endeavour.

“This isn’t going to work, is it?” he mumbles and his tone is embarrassingly defeated even to his own ears. Ed doesn’t seem similarly afflicted, pushing at Oswald’s hip and urging him aside.

“Here, scoot” he says and Oswald does, watches as Ed places the pillows in a neat vertical line on the bed. As happy as Oswald is about a continuation, he knows where this is going before Ed speaks, and he already feels bashful about it.

“On your stomach.”

There it is. Oswald closes his eyes, takes as deep of a breath as he can, his chest still aching, and reminds himself that it won’t matter, he’s going to be self-conscious about this whole process anyhow, but it’s a risk he’s going to have to take if he wants Ed to fuck him. Which he does, very much so. So he rolls on top of the pillows and hides his face in them for good measure, wondering again at how people do this without dying of shame. And Ed strips him of the sweatpants as well, because why not, Oswald’s already choking on his embarrassment as is- and it’s amazing how hard and aching his cock still is throughout all this, pressed against the warm cotton of the pillow his hips are lying on.

“You know in order for this to work you really need to relax” Ed says behind him, a whisper of amusement in his voice. Oswald tries to fight down the urge to punch him or throw a fit, and just grumbles into the pillow.

“And I’d rather not feel like I’m forcing you.”

Ed still sounds like he’s having the time of his life, but his palms are running across the sides of Oswald’s thighs, soothing and patient, and Oswald feels a bit stupid; he doesn’t want to be childish about this, instead he wants to get this show on the road. When he focuses on Ed’s fingers on his legs, his dick gives a twitch again. Okay, he can do this if he concentrates on his body rather than his worries.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one lying here butt naked” he mumbles just to spite Ed, and Ed’s touch disappears from his skin. Oswald’s stomach drops, but he can hear rustling and when he dares a glance back Ed is pulling his T-shirt over his head and then shimmying out of those ridiculous track pants. And yeah, his dick is definitely jumping as he watches Ed undress.

“Better?” Ed asks and smiles, leans down over him and places a drawn out kiss on his lips. Then he pulls back just as Oswald opens his mouth, wanting to initiate tongue contact. The bastard.

But Ed’s fingers return to his skin, this time on his shoulder blades, stroking upwards to his neck and then down again with more pressure. It’s not arousing per se, but Oswald is so high on- well whatever chemicals his body produces to make him this strung up- that it almost feels as if Ed could touch him anywhere and he’d feel it travelling down to his cock. Ed’s thumbs dig into his trapezius and he hadn’t even realised how tight he was all over until now, but he supposes it was a given with his injuries and the limited movement of the last few weeks. It’s hard to stay in his head when he’s slowly but surely melting underneath Ed’s hands, getting lulled into a sense of tranquility as his muscles start to give in to Ed’s motions. By the time Ed deems to be done with his neck and shoulders, Oswald is practically purring into the pillow he’s hugging.

“I’d go further down but you’re turning yellow” Ed comments quietly and somewhere in the back of Oswald’s mind, through the fog of his physical indulgence, he takes it as an insult. It must be enough to make him tense up again, because Ed continues:

“Oswald, all I meant is I don’t want to cause you any pain. Though I’m partial to you au naturel without any bruises…”

He leans down, almost straddling Oswald’s thighs and whispers, right into Oswald’s ear:

“I’d take you in any color.”

Oswald thinks he’s probably really easy, because even that stupid line makes his face hot and his groin impatient, and he has to twitch away from Ed’s mouth where his breath tickles Oswald’s neck.

“I really don’t think it’ll be good for me to get my ego stroked this much on the long run” Oswald says despite himself, because in all honesty, he really still thrives on that and will be glad to lap up any compliment Ed throws his way.

“Actually” Ed says, reading his mind again, “I think I might need to do that a lot more in order for this relationship to work.”

Relationship, Ed said. And although he’d also said he wouldn’t go further down, he digs his fingers into Oswald’s glutes, and oh Oswald likes where this is headed. Ed doesn’t sit up yet, but keeps his hands busy and his lips trailing along Oswald’s jaw, and Oswald is so focused on how good he feels, he doesn’t even mind the pillow beneath his crotch getting positively wet.

By the time Ed backs off him, he’s squirming, can’t really stop his hips from rubbing his dick all over the cotton beneath him. If they don’t get this party started soon, he’s going to finish himself on the fucking bedding.

Thankfully, Ed’s reaching for the stuff on the bedside table and although Oswald’s instinct would be to get nervous again, he can’t really find it in him to care all that much. He’s kind of focused on having Ed inside him as quickly as possible- he feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin from how badly he wants to get a move on. He also sort of wishes he could turn around and just pull Ed in and kiss him until they’re both silly.

“Last chance to get out” Ed says and Oswald doesn’t look, but he hears him squelch some lube out of the bottle. Oswald just scoffs at him as an answer. He’s not sure his vocal cords will work right now anyway.

Once again Ed leans into him, grinds his erection, still under the layer of his boxer briefs, along Oswald’s crack, and Oswald can’t even help himself- body moving before he gets a thought in, pushing back and sucking in a gasp from the feeling of Ed sliding against his asshole. The rocking motion also makes for this delicious drag of his dick against the pillow and maybe he can get into this position after all.

“Haaah, come on” he’s mumbling, and as if Ed had waited for Oswald’s words, the press of his dick is gone and replaced by a wet glide of fingers. Where Oswald had thought all the other touches felt good, he’s unprepared for how easy/filthy/wonderful this is. Ed is drawing circles along his rim and Oswald is so ready for more, like every fibre in his body is anticipating intrusion whenever Ed adds just a little pressure. He’s full on gasping, hands gripping the sheets where he has them tucked underneath him and the pillow.

“Come on” he repeats, desperate, mouth dry and muscles tight, and his voice sounds broken already.

Ed is pulling on the side of his asshole with a thumb and somehow that makes Oswald’s toes curl and his breath stop short and finally Ed enters him. Oswald doesn’t even register the brunette telling him to breathe, but his body complies with the command by itself, as he’s just trying to hold himself together. The first finger is easy actually, although Ed pulls out and adds some more lubrication for good measure before the next push inwards. Oswald groans, sort of loses himself in the sensation, body going lax against the pillows. He’s hyperaware of that place, all the nerves Ed is touching inside him, and he can’t- he’s totally zoning out, already becoming this wanton, baser version of himself, but he doesn’t care anymore about how whorish he might come across as he moans and spreads his legs a little wider.

All he cares about is this and more of it.

It doesn’t take that long for his prayers to get answered, and Ed slides in another digit alongside the first. The stretch is a bit tougher this time around, but it gets Oswald all hot and bothered still- this sort of nasty idea that Ed is making space for himself- and Oswald is getting used to concentrating on his inner muscles and how to breathe the tenseness away. He turns his head sideways on the pillow, mainly to get a bit more air in, but also so he can sneak peaks at Ed, and oh that’s something to behold as well, because Ed’s face is flushed, and his hair is falling messily across his forehead, and he’s staring intently down at what he’s doing- at Oswald’s ass, is the thought that hits Oswald suddenly and punches all the air out of his lungs. He envies Ed, wants to see it as well, how he looks where they’re joined- his asshole flutters around Ed’s fingers just imagining it, and even that sends another bolt of arousal up his spine, feeling how tightly he’s wrapped around Ed’s fingers.

Then Ed starts thrusting, and that first lazy in and out has Oswald moaning and then he can’t seem to stop making noise. His knees dig into the mattress and embarrassingly enough he’s arching his back, pushing his ass up and into Ed’s motions. He thinks he hears Ed gasp behind him.

It’s more of a mental thing- Ed’s fingers certainly don’t feel bad, but physically it doesn’t compare to having a palm around his dick. Yet just the idea of Ed doing this to him adds something to his actions that is arousing beyond just the signals his body sends him. Because as ridiculous as he might think himself lying naked on his belly with his legs spread and Ed’s fingers knuckle-deep inside his ass, it’s also turning him on more than anything ever has in his life.

Then Ed twists his fingers and Oswald swears his heart stops for a moment.

“Here?” Ed asks but Oswald can’t hear him over the fireworks running up his spine. He’s groaning when Ed strokes over that spot again. He could not have fathomed anything like this, pleasure zinging from where Ed is hitting all the way through his dick- from the inside. There’s a whine on each exhale, when Ed does it again and again, Oswald’s vision kind of whiting out, or maybe that’s just because he’s pressing his eyes close so tightly.

He’s still strung up when Ed adds more lube and another finger, and this time it’s definitely difficult to get accustomed to, takes longer until Oswald’s body swallows up all three- he thinks he’s probably only getting there because every little bit Ed inches inward gets his fingertips closer to that place again. He’s trembling just thinking about it, his cock creating a little tacky puddle below him. His knuckles are white where they’re clawed into the sheets, until Ed does brush there, and Oswald’s whole body tenses up- it’s almost too much for a second, too much inside him where his rim squeezes around Ed’s fingers- and then he just goes lax all over, allowing for a much smoother slide, in and out and then there again and all he can do is lie there and take it like an idiot, panting and moaning as he gets used to the stretch.

He’s not sure how long it takes for Ed to decide he’s ready- he could stay here forever, as eager as he is to have something else inside him. It’s only when Ed pulls his fingers free and Oswald twists to look at him and ask him why the fuck he’s stopping, that he notices his ribs still hurt, and so does his bad leg. He stretches a bit and repositions and almost chokes on his tongue when in the corners of his vision he catches Ed pulling off his boxers. He’s also taking off his glasses and putting them on the bedside table, switching for the box of condoms, body laid out over Oswald’s as he’s reaching, which is just all sorts of delicious- all that expanse of skin on skin.

“You okay?” Ed asks when he sits back down on his haunches, probably because Oswald is staring stupidly, watching him roll a rubber on his erection, watching him reach for the lube again, watching him give himself a few strokes and a content moan. No Oswald is not okay at all. He’s more than okay.

“U-huh.”

Oswald’s gasping again when Ed works another glob of lube around and in his asshole, and his nerves return, even as his desire is peaking. He takes as deep a breath as he can when he feels the head of Ed’s cock against his twitching rim, and then Ed’s lips are on his back, placing a wet kiss right between his shoulder blades.

“Ready?”

“U-huh.”

And just like that Ed’s pushing in and it’s a lot- this is so different from fingers, a sort of blunt pressure, and Oswald has to fight against the instant urge to think it’s too much. He reminds himself that this is by far not impossible, a lot of people do this, and he tries to reach for the memory of that magical spot inside him, and the pleasant way Ed’s fingertips had brushed against his inner walls, tries to relate that to this as much as he can.

Ed is mouthing all along his shoulders and the touch is sort of grounding him; he’s also going slow, two steps forward, one step back, and it’s a bit of a tedious process but when he finally bottoms out, it’s everything Oswald’s dreamed of in a way- Ed pressed in close, and just that amazing feeling of being connected with him. Ed’s gasps leave a cool trace of breath on Oswald’s sweaty skin, against the side of his neck. Oswald feels wet all over, from the perspiration that makes his bangs stick to his forehead down to his drooling dick and the dribble of lube he can feel running down his perineum.

Ed is as well though, palm slipping a little as he digs his fingers into Oswald’s hip. His other hand is reaching up, finding Oswald’s under the pillow and lacing their fingers. And then he starts moving- a slow, steady grind that’s pushing Oswald’s body into the pillows on every upstroke. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, until Oswald finds that way to relax his muscles again, and then it’s instant bliss, Ed’s dick rubbing him all the right ways, and the brunette shifts his body weight a bit, and then every thrust is just perfection.

That first perfect hit makes Oswald grunt and clench around Ed, not just his ass, also his fingers where they’re holding hands, and Ed mewls in return, runs his teeth along the groove where Oswald’s neck meets his shoulder. Oswald can’t really stop it from happening, tightening every time Ed moves forward, until for some reason suddenly it’s all too much and his body lets go and ohgod he’s going to come from just this- Ed rocking into him with that perfect angle and making his dick rub along the pillow he’s jammed against.

But then Ed stops moving, halts Oswald’s pushing back by holding his hips down tightly. Oswald yelps, helpless against the pleasure coiling in his belly, and squirms underneath him desperately.

“Mmnh don’t stop” he’s gasping, voice high and hoarse.

Ed shakes his head lightly, face pressed against Oswald’s neck, groaning once as if he can’t help it.

“Give me a minute.”

Oh.

It’s kind of incredible to realise that Ed is as affected by this whole thing as he is, but at this point he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out. Less than an actual minute later though Ed is moving against him, in him, again, rougher this time strangely- as if he too was past his breaking point. Oswald’s trying to meet each of Ed’s thrusts, limited as his movement is, and the slapping sounds are obscene, would probably embarrass him, if he could focus on anything other than how amazing Ed feels.

The noises he makes are pathetic as well, punched out grunts and frantic mewls, but at least Ed is not that far behind him- up close as they are now he can hear Ed’s panting moans, as the brunette is leaving a trail of bites along the tendon of Oswald’s neck. It makes all the hairs on Oswald’s body stand up, and Ed is still holding his hand tightly, nails probably leaving dents on the back of Oswald’s palm with how harshly they’re digging into his skin.

It only takes Ed speeding up his hips a little, and Oswald’s eyes are rolling back in his head, and yeah, this is it, if Ed dares to stop again, Oswald is going to wring his neck. It’s taking all he has to not buck up against Ed, because his injuries would most likely not make that a pleasant experience. He digs his free hand into the mop of hair on top of Ed’s head, clinging onto him.

“Oh my God, I’m gonna- mnh, Ed-” he groans, nonsensically, and Ed chuckles on the edge of a gasp, runs his tongue along the space behind Oswald’s ear and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Mhm, go ahead…”

And just like that he’s gone, hips trapped between Ed’s steady humping and the pillow he’s rubbing his dick against. It’s the kind of orgasm that feels like it could go on forever, that sends tingles all the way to his toes and fingertips- less just a release of pressure than a fucking spiritual experience, as if every single nerve in his body is overloading his brain with shock signals, before it just gives up and leaves him floating on a cloud of sheer joy. He’s clenching around Ed’s dick, a rhythm he has no control over, and it’s too much, especially with Ed rutting into him, but then the brunette pushes in deep, stills and moans, forehead pressed against Oswald’s jaw so intimately it makes Oswald’s heart squeeze up. And it’s almost as if Ed holds his breath for a second, then lets it go with a sigh that sounds as if it’s dragged out of him, and Oswald can feel him let go, body weight suddenly seeming twice as heavy on him.

He’s very content to just stay right here anyway, still twitching through aftershocks, even when Ed pulls himself together and pushes up on his elbows, mumbling an apology into the nape of Oswald’s neck. Ed pulls out too and that feels straight up weird; Oswald’s gone oversensitive and slack and he can’t fight down a whine when Ed leaves his body. Ed doesn’t go far though, Oswald can hear him take off the condom and then he’s right back, plastered along Oswald’s back, though lighter this time, supporting his own weight. He’s stroking up and down Oswald’s shoulder blade, and all of a sudden Oswald can feel his exhaustion like lead in his bones.

“You still in there?” Ed asks, peppering kisses along Oswald’s jaw and up to his temple.

Oswald purrs.

“Mh-not sure.”

Ed manages to sound proud about that, as he laughs at him.

“Come, don’t fall asleep like that.”

Oswald wants to answer ‘why not’, but sighs and tries to get his muscles to turn back on. When he rolls off the pillows he’s just trying to get some sort of function of thought online, staring at the high ceiling and catching his breath. He finds he has to sit up soon, because lying on his back is still not that easy on his ribs. With the adrenaline fading, he feels all his aches returning.

“Eh, I… didn’t think about that” Ed says next to him and his voice sounds shot to pieces (Oswald preens a bit); he’s eying the mess Oswald has made on the pillow, hair a disheveled mop, expression blank and unimpressed, and somehow Oswald has to snicker at him.

It pulls a dopey smile out of Ed, who gets up and puts on his boxers- ain’t that a tragedy- then discards the used condom and fishes a fresh pillow case out of some drawers next to the bed, goes to work on the pillow while Oswald just watches him, fighting to keep his eyes open. Oswald manages to snatch the old pillow case from Ed and wipe off some of the stickiness between his legs, which was a bright idea, probably his last one for the night. The past weeks he’s always had at least one nap a day, but not today, and he’s dead on his feet- well on his butt where he’s sitting on the mattress.

He digs into the bottom of his energy reserves to find the shed clothes and put them back on, and thankfully Ed is done as well- he turns off the radio (oh, Oswald hadn’t even noticed the continuous music), then hops into bed next to him and pulls the blankets over them both. There’s only them and the warm light from the bedside table lamp, reflected in Ed’s eyes as they search Oswald’s face, for what Oswald’s not sure. He hopes Ed isn’t expecting a talk, because any conversation about this can definitely wait until the next day. One thing is nagging Oswald though.

“Were you really going to let me shoot you?” he asks, almost on the brink of sleep already, and feels more than sees Ed scoot closer, then mouth absent-mindedly along Oswald’s shoulder.

“Well there is a trap door under the bed, but uhm…”

Because of course there is, Oswald thinks and laughs, tired but somehow happy.

“I don’t… yeah I think I was.”

He sounds as honest as Ed has ever sounded, so Oswald just hums and closes his eyes, sighs contently when Ed leaves a peck on his neck. They’re still not cuddling, but they’ll get there, Oswald thinks, bumps his forehead against Ed’s and stays there, so at least they’re breathing the same air. And that night, exhausted both physically and mentally, for the first time since he’s been holed up in Ed’s hideout he sleeps without nightmares.

~ ~ ~

The first thing Ed sees when he comes to is Oswald looking at him. He should probably be startled, but all he feels is a warm kind of contentment- surprising, but not scary. An easy smile spreads on his face and Oswald blinks at him, seeming a little embarrassed.

“Hey there” Ed mumbles, then clears his throat, voice hoarse from sleep, “How’s your body?”

“Fine” Oswald says, stretches tentatively under the covers and grimaces, “Sore.”

Ed copies him, rolling around the mattress once, twice, grunting as his muscles wake up.

“Do we need to talk about it?” Oswald asks, stares at him with a mix of naivety and cunning that is something to behold.

“About what?” Ed says, turns sideways so they’re face to face.

“Our relationship.”

Oswald puts emphasis on the word, and stretches it out as if he’s getting used to the taste of it on his tongue. Ed thinks about it for a bit.

He’s more than fine with where they’ve ended up. And he’s pretty sure they’re going to have problems from here on out- they always clash in some way, it’s probably what makes Oswald so intriguing to him. Even when he’s been mad at Oswald, the Penguin keeps him on his toes, and as he’d said he does like being challenged. He wants all of Oswald’s attention, whether that be in anger or in love. It’s what he revels in after all- being seen. And theirs was never going to be an easy romance from the get go.

“Not unless you want to” he says.

Oswald snorts and hides his face in the pillow for a second, then looks at Ed sideways, all happy and mellow. It’s rare to see the Penguin sated and at ease and thinking he’s in any way the cause for it makes Edward’s chest swell with sheer pride.

“Fine. Be that way” Oswald says in a low voice and Ed wonders if he’s hoarse from last night. Then Oswald leans over and pecks him on the mouth and he’s highly aware of the fact that this is the first time Oswald has initiated a kiss between them.

“Good morning” Oswald mumbles, still up close, and smirks, making Ed smile as well.

“Good morning” he mirrors and wonders if Oswald will be on board with an early morning make-out session, but the smaller one gets up, off the bed and shuffles into the bathroom, leaving Ed lying there like an idiot with a grin plastered to his face.

Might as well make coffee.

They decide to have breakfast on the couch in the warehouse, watching reruns of late night shows while they eat. It ends up being the most enjoyable thing, lying on the sofa with a mellow and content Oswald sprawled halfway atop him, just a slow lazy morning for once, making fun of contestants on some weird obtuse Asian quiz show they found on one of the channels Ed’s program turns up. He’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and Oswald’s hair in the other, fine and silky between his fingers where he’s scratching his nails gently back and forth across Oswald’s scalp.

The only thing interrupting them is a call Oswald gets, but he doesn’t even bother getting up, just clears all those business propositions up from where he lies, cheek half squished into Ed’s shoulder. Afterwards Oswald goes a bit quiet and broody. Ed understands where it’s coming from. He feels this urge to bombard Oswald with as much affection as possible, more so because he knows his patient won’t stay for a lot more days.

“Guess you have to leave soon, huh?”

“Well this has certainly been a rather therapeutic chain of events, I must say” Oswald starts and stretches, his whole body rolling and pressing against Ed’s in a way that shouldn’t be so distracting. He doesn’t really want to let Oswald go at all, but he’s aware of just how childish that notion is.

“But I can’t leave these idiots to destroy everything I’ve worked for. And then there’s Sofia…” Oswald grumbles, but he doesn’t make to move, just closes his eyes and sighs, encouraging Ed to continue stroking his head by rubbing it against him like a cat.

“I say I probably have until the weekend.”

It’s Wednesday. Ed puts down his cup next to the sofa.

“Good” he says and snakes his now free arm around Oswald’s waist, pulls him in a bit tighter. Oswald’s breath catches a little at the motion.

“There’s still some stuff in the bag I didn’t get to show you yet” Ed mumbles against Oswald’s temple, then opens his mouth there, just breathing in the smaller one’s scent.

“Go easy on me, will you” Oswald says quietly at the end of a little breathless laugh.

“Ah, you can take it. You’re tough.”

Ed bites him just below his ear, because he can. Oswald shivers and Ed has mercy on him, drops his head back against the couch’s armrest.

“Oh, by the way, I got you a suit” he says and Oswald clears his throat, scratches his nose- probably because his blush is itching.

“Picked it up when you were still out of it.”

“Hm, thanks.”

“I hope it’ll fit, you were a skeleton when I rolled you in here.”

Oswald tenses for a second, then goes mellow under Ed’s scratching fingers again.

“Now that I think about it- what did you do with my leg brace?” he asks.

“It was broken- and a bit rudimentary I might add. I fixed it, made a few adjustments.”

“Oh God, what did you do to it?”

Ed is a bit insulted that Oswald sounds so fearful. The man really has no trust in anyone.

“Nothing special, just cleaned up the structure a bit. Made the slot for the knife a little less obvious. But you know, you could hide all kinds of stuff in there. Could even put a gun in it, that’d be fun- just raise your leg and boom!”

“Yeah, thanks but no- I didn’t make the gymnastics team” Oswald says, defiant but calmer.

They fall into a bit of silence where Oswald goes back to cackling at the stupid TV show on the monitor and Ed daydreams about what else he could put in Oswald’s brace, or an umbrella even. Before he can fix his mind on those projects though, he still has his plan for the bat to work on. And that’s when it hits him.

“You know what I’m thinking?”

“No, I don’t” Oswald snorts, “I never do.”

“All those gadgets and equipment the batman has” Ed goes on, “Not to mention that car. It’s all very… elaborate, no? Now what company in Gotham has the means to produce that kind of sophisticated technology?”

Oswald is quiet for a moment, actually mulling that over, and Ed rewards him with another stroke over that spot on his head that has Oswald melting against him.

“Wayne Enterprises” the smaller one says, and his voice has gone all serious with an edge of malice. Ed knew this was going to be more fun with the Penguin on his side. He smirks.

“Bingo. I think it’s about time I pay a little visit to my old foxy friend.”