Chapter Text
The desk is too huge and sturdy to rattle, and that’s a good thing; no one could know what was going on in the office without pressing their ear right against the door or opening it to peak inside. If they did, they would hear the shared pants and grunts of the two men clinging to one another and moving at a quick demanding pace.
Ed hates the fabric between them, but they certainly do not have the time to strip to nothing, and ever since he had watched Oswald scold one of his waiters for sloppy presentation, Ed had been desperate to be inside him - nothing else would do.
The heel of Oswald’s shoe is digging into the back of his thigh, he’s grabbing his jacket almost too hard at the shoulder, but none of those sensations compare to the feeling of Oswald hot, tight and well-lubricated around his cock, taking him in like he always does so well.
It’s impossible for Oswald to stay silent, he’s learnt this, and he doesn’t want him to, either. The little whimpering moans and grunts in his ear almost equal the feeling of his ass.
“Going to come soon - ah, Ed, fuck.” Oswald squeezes his eyes shut and Ed nods, panting out a moan against Oswald’s open mouth. He presses forward, lays Oswald on his back and gives him a good hard push, to which he receives an incredibly gratifying choked noise that makes him pulse.
Neither of them are going to last long, and that’s the point, it’s quick and frantic, a little shot of satisfaction to get them through the day.
“God, so fucking - unh.” Ed feels the tip of Oswald’s nose pressing into his cheek, and then Oswald’s tongue slip wetly against his own - Ed must be practically drooling into his mouth, he can’t get a hold of himself when they’re like this, he’s the opposite of his normal self. Uncontrolled, crude, sloppy.
When he adjusts his hips a little, he knows he’s hitting Oswald’s prostate because his voice takes on a higher pitch and he looks dizzy, his cheeks flushing even pinker.
He knows Oswald’s going to come because he can see that crease in his forehead and he can’t keep his eyes from screwing shut; he’s close too, can feel the heat unfurling low, making his clothes tight and the air feel hot.
“Don’t let it get on my suit.” Oswald says between gritted teeth, voice breaking, his hand stilling on his own cock, and Ed would laugh if he had the breath in him to do it.
“Where else - ah- is it going to go?” He runs his thumb over Oswald’s lower lip because he can’t resist.
“Improvise, genius.” He says between his teeth, and that really shouldn’t be the thing that makes Ed come inside him - but it is - it shakes through him and makes him grip Oswald tight, his body tensing then releasing, filling him up.
Snarkiness of all things peaked his arousal, but all he can focus on is the white behind his eyes and the pleasure that feels like it’s going on forever.
He thrusts his hips hard as he spurts inside him one last time, and he feels that leg tighten against the back of his as he groans out his release.
“Oswald,” he gasps, his own voice hoarse and tight, “god I love you.”
Ed says it more now, and it’s always in moments like this.
A casual, ‘okay, see you later, I love you,’ hasn’t occurred from either of the yet. He’s been on the precipice of it a lot, but he can feel Oswald holding back, so he follows his lead. It’s not like he could question why Oswald would be hesitant to avoid those three little words.
When they’re doing this, it’s easy to say, it’s ‘you feel amazing, you’re beautiful, thank you, please never leave me,’ all in one simple sentence.
“Ed, Ed please.” Oswald whimpers, and Ed sees he has reached down and is squeezing his own cock tight at the base, looks like he’s almost in pain holding it back.
His suit, of course.
Ed breathes out a shaky little laugh and carefully pulls out of him, kneels down and wraps his mouth around him instead.
“Nnh, yes.” Oswald’s fingers weave in the back his hair, and then he’s non-verbal again, just stretched moans and his name. He suspects Oswald is a little better at this than him, but he’s getting plenty of practice, he caresses his balls carefully and sucks him with enthusiasm, letting his saliva wet him.
When he looks up Oswald’s arms are shaking to hold his back upright, his eyes are shut and his head is thrown back. He teases the weeping head for just a second to feel him jolt, then relaxes his throat and takes him to the base for a second, he can’t do it for too long without gagging, but it does the trick.
His fingers tighten and his blunt nails dig into Ed’s scalp when comes thick and salty in his mouth, and he swallows it dutifully, with a hidden grimace; they are avoiding making a mess after all. Oswald sounds desperate when he comes, breath coming out in little pants and a long, sustained moan falling from his lips.
When he's done, Ed straightens up, he leans over to kiss him, and smiles when he pulls back, Oswald rolls his eyes but kisses him back anyway.
“What?” Ed asks, still smiling as Oswald nudges him off to get to his feet and pull up his underwear and trousers.
“You always look at me so innocently. There is nothing innocent about coming inside me.” Oswald smirks, and feels a little tingle up his spine, the faintest tone of scolding in his voice but his eyes saying otherwise.
They’re both wrung out, lazy in their movements, but Ed feels refreshed, peppy - Oswald’s that kind of tonic, invigorating. Ed fastens his pants and straightens out his suit, and hopes it’s not glaringly obvious to anyone who might been the club what they’d been doing. Apart from the glow on Oswald’s cheeks, he looks entirely un-mussed.
’Need to work on wrecking him a little more next time.’
When Oswald picks up the coffee in the cardboard cup on his desk, Ed remembers why he had come in the first place, to bring him coffee from his favourite cafe and to discuss something important that has nothing to do with filling him with come.
“Speaking of things that aren’t very innocent, I had an idea I wanted to run past you.” Ed leans on the desk beside him as Oswald gets himself comfortable in his chair.
“When did you leave this morning?” Oswald isn’t listening, he’s taking the lid off the coffee.
“About an hour before your alarm, you’re a very heavy sleeper, and you snore.” He says quickly, wanting to get back to the matter at hand.
“No I don’t.” Oswald protests into his drink.
“You do, loudly.” He holds up his pointer fingers as he speaks. “It’s quite annoying.”
Noticing it on the desk, Oswald puts the lube away in a bottom drawer, obscures it with a pile of papers. Then he presses the tip of his sharp nose to the rim of the coffee to smell it before sipping.
Ed cocks his head at the action. “Are you sniffing for poison?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.” He shrugs, though Ed can see the amusement in his glance. “And then you would place the various ingredients to the antidote in lockboxes around Gotham that I would have to go on a scavenger hunt to locate.”
Ed is irritated both that Oswald is making fun of him, and that it actually sounds like a good idea.
“I would prefer if you didn’t mock my process, Oswald.” Ed crosses his ankles.
“Prefer away.” Oswald lifts his hand, clearly in the mood to wind him up today.
Ed decides to ignore it.
“Back to what I was saying… As you know my bank robberies have been quite successful.” He can’t keep the rather self-satisfied look of his face. “But none of them have been the robbery. Rather carefully constructed parts of a symphony… Gotham Merchant’s Bank is the crescendo.”
“You’ve made all your success on your own, Ed, I’m not sure what you’re asking me.” Oswald leans bank in his chair as he regards him.
“I am two-faced, but bear one head, I have no legs but travel widely, I make kings immortal, I am potent when shared, yet lust for my power keeps me locked away. What am I?” He grins and feels a little thrill to see Oswald’s eyes look by him as he tries to figure it out.
“I already have money.” He says after a moment, and Ed wants to give him a gold star.
“Oh, this is lots of money.”
“And are you offering to gift money to me, or are you asking me to help you?” Oswald asks, even though he knows the answer. “No offence Ed, but I prefer not to get my hands quite as dirty as you do.”
Ed decides to be honest. “I thought it could be fun. Our schemes are always so separate.”
“They are, we have very different ways of operating.” Oswald shrugs.
“And our money.” Ed places the tips of his index fingers together before moving them apart. “Separate.”
Oswald cocks his head a little, a considering smile on his lips. “So, this is a way for us to share assets? Should I have a prenuptial agreement drawn up?”
“If you can find a lawyer who’ll create a pre-nup based on one-hundred-million dollars of stolen money I’d be incredibly impressed. But no, this isn’t a proposal of that kind.” He says, though the idea doesn’t sound quite as terrifying as he might have thought.
“Thank god.”
‘Quite a wedding party though, Ivy on bouquet duty, Victor freezing the dance floor so we can skate the first dance - perhaps they could get Jim Gordon to come as best man or flower-boy.’
“I think it would be fun.” Ed repeats, and he realises he’s one of many who have stood in this office and tried to convince Oswald to do something.
He’s quite sure he’s the only one whose blown him before asking though.
“Think of what you could do with all that money…” Ed leans down a little. “Forget this place, you could guarantee your re-election as mayor, maybe even take over city hall…”
“Take over?” He sees his interest pique at that. His face always looks a little younger when he’s tantalised.
“Valeska might be dead, but it’s only a matter of time before the city is thrown into chaos again. How many coups and wars have we gone through over the past months? Things are too tenuous in Gotham, all it takes is a little more craziness and they’ll be begging to have you put leashes back on the maniacs and fix everything again.”
“You’re presuming a lot.” Oswald’s thumb raises to his mouth to bite his nail on habit and Ed bats it away, ignoring the scowl he gets in return. His scowls are nuanced and many - this is halfhearted at best.
“I’m usually right when I presume. Remember Sofia? I sniffed out her plans straight away.” Oswald’s face turns sour at her name.
‘Should have sent her head in a box to the GCPD for trying to use false-friendship against him. Wonder how her corpse is doing weighed down at the bottom of the bay?’
“I don’t doubt your intelligence or guile, Ed, but you’re not omniscient.” He says and sips his coffee.
“How would you know?” Ed teases.
Oswald rolls his eyes - he does that a lot.
“You do realise you would count as one of the maniacs I would be asked to put a leash on? Is that what you want?”
“Oswald.” Ed touches his chest in faux scandalisation. “If you wanted to try out something like that all you’d have to do is ask.”
Oswald sighs at his childishness and rests his head on his hand impatiently, but Ed couldn’t have resisted a set up like that.
“Can you really turn down that kind of money, Oswald? Massive, unassailable, untouchable amounts of money.” Ed can’t help but be tempted by it too - the scale of his schemes could be endless, he could use the whole city as a playground.
“You know I’ve been more than impressed with you Ed. More than impressed… I’ve been quite, proud, in fact.” He looks at his fingers when he says it, like he feels silly to say it out loud.
Ed’s chest swells at the praise. He’s not sure anyone’s actually said that to him before.
“But have you heard the story of Icarus? Flying too close to the sun and all? I have a lot of faith in you, but I have no interest in getting my wings melted.”
“I feel like if you were in Icarus’ position you would have been able to figure away out of it. Catch yourself on something before falling into the sea.” Ed says, because it’s true.
Oswald scoffs and shakes his head, but Ed can see a fresh flush on his defined cheekbones.
“Wouldn’t you like to see me in action first hand?” He leans down beside Oswald chair and talks near his ear. “I get to see you at work all the time.”
Oswald’s tongue peaks out to wet his lower lip a second. “Hm, I know you like that.” And when his voice takes on that low tone Ed feels it roll through him.
“I do.” Ed smiles.
‘Especially when someone makes him use that trick-cane. He can be very agile.’
“I think you’d like it too. We make a good team.”
“Dynamic.” Oswald agrees.
“Unstoppable.” Ed counters, and Oswald’s bright eyes meet his.
They’ve both perfected the art of riling the other up. He can see the spark in his lover’s face, and he knows he’s succeeded in drawing him in.
It’s why they’re together after all, their unmatched ability to stir the other into action and boldness.
“Alright, show me the plans today and we’ll decide who’s best for the job.” He says and Ed grins wider.
“At home?” He says without thinking, and then immediately feels a little unsure with himself.
Ed’s been careful in the past to say ‘the mansion’ or ‘your house’ even though it’s a silly thing - the semantics of it all - he lives there, he never sleeps anywhere else but beside Oswald these days and yet he worries about turning him off by being too…
‘Ed-like?’
Committed.
Oswald and Ed just are, people suspect they’re together, neither are the best at being subtle in that regard and he hears the rumours, but they don’t know for a fact how they define their relationship because Ed doesn’t really know either. They live, essentially, as a couple, but the secrecy of it means they’ve never really had to discuss the terms, as it were.
They share a bed, they fuck, regularly, and Ed knows unequivocally that he has never loved anyone like he loves him, and that’s that.
But still, these little things, the difference between: ‘the house’ and ‘our home.’
“No.” Oswald says, and Ed thinks he might be slightly avoiding his eye.
‘Damn, he did notice.’
“Let’s use one of the conference rooms here, I don’t want to be too far from the office for the next few days.”
Ed nods and swallows; he doesn’t get this insecure feeling very much anymore.
“I wouldn’t mind having dinner at home though,” Oswald says, and he’s rearranging papers on his desk, not looking a him. “You haven’t cooked for me in a while.” And Ed can see the small smile playing on his lips though his chin is still turned down.
“I’ll find nice recipe for carbonara.”
***********************
They stand around the large conference table, the map of the bank is spread across the surface, overlaid with Ed’s transparent plastic sheet, covered in pen plotting out their routes and plans. Zsasz and Fries are present too, along with a couple of Oswald’s more capable lackeys.
“Shoot them in the head.” Zsasz says with an understanding nod, as they discuss how to deal with the remaining guards.
“Not what I was thinking.” Ed says, hat on his head, deep green suit in place. Oswald’s coming round to it more and more, and there’s no doubting the allure of his ability to command a room when he is in ‘Riddler’ mode.
“Too loud.” Oswald shakes his head. “We should just slit their throats.” He looks over the plans.
“That’s one way to go, but I was thinking sleep darts.” Ed says.
‘Again with the sleep darts.’
Oswald suppresses his eye-roll, they’d fought a couple of weeks ago about him scoffing at Ed’s plans and he’d promised to try. A suppressed eye-roll is at least improvement, even though he’s sure Ed probably senses it.
“I think it’s best to avoid killing if at all possible, that way should any of the more disposable members of the team happen to get caught they won’t go down for murder.” Ed gestures to the large men at the other side of the room who are around more to ferry the loot into the truck more than anything else.
They are unfazed by the suggestion, all they really need know is who to whack over the head and where to drive. Oswald has a thousand of them at his disposal.
“Fine, sleep darts it is.” Oswald relents. “But I want Victor on hand anyway, the GCPD can figure out how to thaw out any guards.” He gestures to their white-haired, almost blue friend at the other side of the room.
“Long as I get a decent cut.” He says, arms crossed and leaning on the wall at the back of the room. Not a man of many words, but indispensable over the past months, as disconcerting as Oswald might find his flat demeanour and unusual eyes.
“Of course, Victor. We’ll be making enough for you to fund a lab three times over.” Oswald says.
“That’s good news.” He sends Oswald an almost imperceptible smile that he returns, and he hears Ed clear his throat and lean down over the table, looking at the plans, long fingers spread across the map.
“I could suggest to you a few locations that would work for your research. I know labs quite well.” If Oswald’s not mistaken, his tone is a bit clipped.
‘Green is a good colour on him in more ways than one, isn’t it?’
“Appreciate it, Riddler.”
Oswald knows Ed will have liked that, though, can’t really help a tight smile and being called his other name without having to push it. Oswald still doesn’t say it much, he can’t help but find it a little ridiculous, though he won’t say that out loud.
Well, Ed has managed to get him to say it a couple of occasions, he can get him to say almost anything when there’s an orgasm at stake, honestly.
“Unh - for christ’s sake - Riddler - please.”
“Say it again.”
“Fuck - fuck me Riddler, fuck me Riddler, fuck me, fuck me.”
He clears his throat and brings himself back into the room. He almost wants to ask Ed to roll his sleeves down, his slender forearms and the tendons moving in them are distracting him. If everyone would just leave he could knock that hat off his head and lick a stripe up that line of cheekbone that has been vexing him all morning.
When both are sure that they crew understand the plan, he dismisses them, feeling a little buzz of excitement in his stomach. Being at the top and creating the Iceberg Lounge has been fun, but perhaps a little too comfortable. Plotting these schemes first hand reminds him how it had been when he first started, a nice jolt to the nerves.
“I have to say I feel quite energised.” Oswald says, feeling a slight twinge in his leg and the desire to sit down.
He takes his cane and makes his way to the chair when he feels a sharp pain run from his knee to his foot, and then an entirely unfamiliar numbness. His stomach drops at the sensation, he doesn’t have time to process it.
“It’s perfect, as long as everyone does their jobs nothing will-“
“Ah! Shit.” His leg entirely gives out, his cane clatters to the ground and he falls into the chair, torso landing clumsily against the seat.
“Oswald?” Ed rushes over to his side, and though the feeling comes back into his leg, he feels fear and embarrassment wash through his stomach.
He fell, there had been no stopping it. His other knee hurts where it smashed against the ground.
“I’m fine.” He almost wants to smack Ed’s hands away as he helps him get back to his feet and seated on the chair, feels his face flushed hot. “I just - I tripped.”
When he glances at Ed, who is crouched in front of him, he has to look away from that expression of concern on his face, it makes him feel pathetic. His leg causes him pain all the time, but completely giving out is new. His heart is beating quite hard from the shock of the fall.
“Come on, we’ll go home and I’m calling the doctor.” Ed stands upright, collecting their coats.
“And have him say what? ‘Yes, your leg is still fucked.’ No need, I am quite aware.” He feels himself being snippy but can’t help it. “I’ve just been standing for too long today, that’s it.”
“You might need physical therapy, or a brace.” Oswald doesn’t let Ed help him when he stands and takes his coat.
“If I have to limp my way around the city I’m not going to squeak as well.” He puts it on quickly, his leg is aching like it often does, but it feels sturdy again. It had felt sturdy before.
'What if that happened in front of everyone? What if it happened in the middle of the club on a Saturday night? They’d all laugh, they’d let me flounder on the ground.'
He swallows, feeling a little nauseous. He just wants to go home.
“You don’t know it will be that kind of brace.” Ed follows him out of the conference room, hovering close to his side but not taking his arm like Oswald knows he wants to.
“Just drop it, Ed, I don’t need anymore reasons for people to find me entirely physically unimposing.” Oswald is walking too fast; he needs to prove that he’s fine.
They step out into the cold air, and Oswald is glad for it, taking in a lungful of the fresh breeze and enjoying it against his warm face. The car is waiting to take him somewhere more comfortable, and he’s glad for it.
“Oswald, you could be walking around blind in one eye with an arm missing and people would still find you imposing.” He can hear the smile in Ed’s voice, and lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head.
He’s good at that, making him feel a bit better. Oswald looks up at him and feels somewhat comforted by the warm expression he finds there.
“You’re not letting yourself be in pain for the sake of vanity.” Ed says, and Oswald lets out a sigh and slips into the back of his car.
“I am not vain.” He says as he gets in.
“Oh, please.” It’s Ed’s turn to roll his eyes as he rounds the car to get in the other side.
“The penthouse.” Oswald says to the driver, and Ed looks at him questioningly. “I don’t feel like the drive back to the mansion and they won’t deliver the good Chinese all the way out there.”
‘All I need is rest in my own space, there’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t need any help.’
The city apartment is grand, Oswald made sure of that when he bought it, and it’s incredibly secure. Ed’s quiet in the elevator up to the top floor and Oswald can feel that he’s on the edge of telling him how important it is he sees a doctor. He chooses just not to meet his eye instead, and lets out a sigh of relief when they’re finally inside.
He takes off his coat and Ed hangs it up for him, a reflex at this point, a remnant from when they’d began as Mayor and Chief of Staff.
Soon, Oswald is sitting on the window seat, while Ed changes. His leg elevated and outstretched, the other hanging off, toes not quite reaching the ground.
It’s his favourite spot, looking out over that broken skyline of the city he knows so well - the sky grey and dingy. He wonders briefly if there’s another him down there, scrapping for a piece of the city with those bigger and more powerful, but he knows that’s unlikely. Another in his position wouldn’t have been able to talk their way off that pier alive (either time) or get out of the trunk of Maroni’s car, or leave Arkham and regain their mind.
Why anyone thinks they should try and bring him down is beyond him. No one has made the city their own more than him, and when he’s even richer, more powerful, anyone who bothers to try will find themselves smashed to bits against steel hull of his power.
‘I’ve never needed to be in full health to be powerful.’
Ed sits down beside him, lays the hot bag of lavender wheat over his leg, and Oswald feels the warmth spread through right away with a breath of some relief.
And at least with Ed, he can actually enjoy the fruits of his labour, he doesn’t have to come home alone and wake up that way.
He often wonders if Ed asked him to leave, to run away to the country and live off the land like some sort of romantic hero, never to be seen again, what he would say. Really, he’ll do anything for him if he asks him to.
‘Yes, as long as he’s the one chopping the firewood and I’m the one in the cottage eating fresh bread and drinking wine. Maybe a dog.’
“I’m running a bath.” Ed says, drawing up one of his long legs. “And I have some strong painkillers.”
“Thank you.” Oswald takes the pills from his hand and swallows them both in one. He can see a bit of what looks like pity in his face, and he feels that creeping discomfort in his stomach return. “But you don’t have to…”
“To what?” God, Ed looks just like when he first met him: sweet, concerned, exactly unlike the image he projects to the outside world now. It makes his chest hurt, but it also makes him feel quite pathetic.
So he snaps at him, he doesn’t mean to, but he can’t stop it leaving his mouth sometimes when he feels that shot of irritation up his neck.
“I’m not a child, Ed.”
And Ed’s smile turns to a hard line, now annoyed himself and clearly quite hurt. Embarrassment and guilt mix into a sickness in his gut now.
‘Of course he’s hurt, he’s trying to be nice.’
“I know that. I never said you were.” His arms cross.
“Well, I can’t take care of myself, okay? I’m not completely crippled.” He hears his voice waver when he says it. Because that’s the fear, being completely crippled, completely useless to everyone and to Ed.
“No, but you are incredibly over-defensive.” Ed stands to his full height and starts to cross the large, open living room.
Oswald should just grab for him and apologise now, he knows it.
“Excuse me?” He knows he shouldn’t be doubling down but he’d rather they have a fight than see Ed leave the room.
“I’m not trying to make you feel incapable, Oswald, I’m helping you, it’s what people who live together do.” He says firmly. “It’s what people who love each other do.”
His stomach flips over, and suddenly he is back on that chaise lounge in the mansion parlour, watching Ed, with that nasty scar round his neck, beam at him and tell him he would do anything for him. The surprise at hearing it must have crossed his face because Ed makes a face of vague impatience.
“That can’t possibly surprise you, I’ve said it many times.”
“Not - only when -“ He clears his throat and gathers himself. “You’ve never said it when you have the clearest head, shall we say?”
Ed swallows, because he knows he is right.
“Saying it to people never exactly goes well for me.” The tone of his voice is quiet, and he rubs his fingertips together at his sides and looks at the ground when he says it.
Oh, Oswald can very much relate to that.
“Me neither.” He says, and sees a guilty look pass Ed’s face that brings him no pleasure.
There is a long, quiet pause where both don’t really know what to say, the tension has snapped and they’re just left with the reality of Ed’s confession, hanging in the air between them. Oswald’s heart is racing a little bit.
‘He loves me. He loves me.’
“Would you come here?” Oswald finally says, impatiently, reaches out his hand so Ed will walk back over to him, and tugs on his wrist so he sits beside him again when he does.
Oswald gently keeps his hold on Ed’s wrist. “I’m sorry.” He looks out of the window as he says it, and says it quickly. It’s not something he has to do much any more, apologise. “I know you love me Ed, and you know I love you too.”
“Do I know that?” Oswald looks at him and sees the small amused smile on his lips, but the hopefulness dancing in his eyes. He doesn’t know how it could ever been in question - he’d as good as died for him.
“I hope so.” He smiles a little too and looks down at Ed’s long fingers as he takes his hand.
“I know you do.”
In the end, Oswald still refuses to take the bath, he wants to feel like he’s looking after Ed for a change, so insists he undress and sink into the steaming scented water himself. Oswald rolls his sleeves up and pulls up a stool beside the clawfoot tub, soaps up a sponge and runs it across his chest and shoulders.
Oswald might get in with him in a moment, in fact, the cloudy, lavender scented water is hard to resist. Steam fills the bathroom, and he enjoys the scent and how it soothes his senses. This is one of those intimacies that was the oddest and most important to him to share with Ed - just to be vulnerable and naked and at peace with another person makes him realise why it's important he tries to stop being so damn snippy with him. He never wants to lose this: shared, domestic peace.
He’s had to take of his glasses from the steam, and Oswald’s spreads a little water across his strong brow to wet his face.
“It quite sickens me how beautiful you are, you know?”
Ed chuckles but keeps his eyes closed and allows Oswald to continue his attentions across his skin.
Oswald's hands are only ever warm when they’re soaked in the hot water for a while, he doesn’t know why it is, he has always just run cold.
It makes him think of the last time his mother had done this for him. Really, in hindsight, it had been odd, too personal for a man his age, but it was all she knew how to do, to comfort him, to make him feel loved in any way she could. She never saw him as anything other than her bullied little boy, even when he had been out killing and extorting, even when she knew he wasn’t a good person.
He misses her still, desperately, but the pain is not as keen as it had once been.
“You look pensive.” Ed says quietly, and only then does Oswald realise he’s looking at him.
He clears his throat and watches water trickle down Ed’s chest.
“When I had to run away from Gotham for while, back when Jim Gordon was supposed to kill me and didn’t. Everyone thought I was dead.” He says. “No one looked for me, no one cared but my mother. I didn’t have one friend in this world.”
Ed rests his hand on Oswald’s wrist.
“It’s alright, I’m not upset, I’m just thinking.” He breathes out a sigh. It feels so long ago, he feels like a different person now, he is a different person now.
“What about?” Ed asks gently.
“How strange it feels to have someone who would look for me.” Oswald wonders if he will ever be able to shake this emotionality from himself, he’s too quick to well up and feel a lump in his throat, but he does.
He thinks he's starting to understand why Ed feels like he has to protect him, because Oswald feels the same; they share each other’s pain now, they both have someone who’ll come and find them. That’s what is making him feel like he’s about to cry, but he bites it back, rests his cheek on the side of the tub and draws slow circles on Ed's chest with the sponge. As long as he can, he'll luxuriate in this room where there are no responsibilities and they have no names but Ed Nygma and Oswald Cobblepot.
Ed won’t call the doctor today, he knows Oswald will just send him away in the mood he’s in, but he will be calling in the morning, and Oswald will let him.
***********************
Getting past bank security so they can just walk through a path of unconscious guards and deactivated security cameras is more satisfying than solving any puzzle he had ever been presented with, Ed realises. It didn’t require a simple logic grid, he had to take everything into account, he had to make sure there was no detail missed.
So he’s excited as they wait in the vault, and Fries gets to work on freezing the bars of the thick titanium gate that protects the most valuable loot: millions of dollars worth of property deeds. The lackeys load the truck with cash and bullion and he can’t fight the grin on his face as he rests on the wall and waits.
Oswald leans on his cane, looking impatient. They are about to become even more disgustingly rich and he can only look impatient.
Shoulders drawn up, mouth set in a tight line, hair in a swoop at the back and held fast with spray and gel; he looks stiff, it’s the only way some people get to see him.
He never met her, but he’d heard stories, and he wonders if he learnt some of it from Fish Mooney, being at once small and pretty, but intimidating, and with an air of the arcane. Ed knows him well enough to see when he’s coiled up in excitement as well, it’s gone so well, exactly as he thought it would.
When Oswald glances at him, he sees his eyes twinkle and he wets his lips; he doesn’t look at anyone else like that.
Oswald styles himself like he’s warning people to stay away: black and spiky, poisonous, choking ink - and Ed finds that this is what he’s so attracted to. He has an immunity, he’s the only one that can drink from his well and survive. It’s intoxicating, but it nourishes him, it doesn’t leave him suffocating on the ground like it does everyone else.
As the men come back and forth to the trucks, they follow Oswald’s orders to the letter. It’s attractive, watching him command, and Ed is starting to feel impatient too, to get home and celebrate their victory with gusto.
‘Getting ahead of myself, it isn’t over until we get those deeds.’
“Last truck is almost full, Mr Penguin.” One of the men says, sweating from the effort.
“Very good. Victor! Where are we with this?” He asks over the noise of the cryo gun.
“Five minutes.” Fries responds, face imperceptible behind those goggles and mouth set in that permanent, serious line.
‘He’s quite handsome, I’m sure Oswald’s noticed. But I’m not going to ask, don’t really want to know if he thinks he’s good looking.’
Oswald is watching Fries work, speaking quietly to Zsasz, and Ed feels the urge to get him alone for a moment. Its not really jealousy, but it might be a bit of possessiveness. He’s stimulated, Oswald looks too good to not be enjoyed for a second.
Sidling up to Oswald, he leans down to murmur. “Can I have a word with you in private?”
Oswald looks up at him questioningly but seems to understand when he meets his eye, he excuses himself from Zsasz, who nods in stoic understanding and Oswald follows Ed out of the vault and into a quiet, dim hallway.
“We’re good at this, aren’t we?” He says quietly, walking close behind him.
“Incredibly.” Oswald turns on his heel and kisses him deeply, leans up against him and presses him to the wall at his back. “Your mind never ceases to amaze me.”
“I like seeing you like this. You’re excited, I can tell.” Ed feels his body buzzing as Oswald presses his body tight against his and kisses him hot and wet.
“Thanks to you… And the smell of that money.” Oswald knocks Ed’s hat off his head and lets it tumble to the ground - he takes any opportunity to do that - and keens when Ed reaches up under his coat to grab his ass and pull him tighter.
“Enough to buy you your city.” Ed murmurs against his mouth.
“Our city.” Oswald counters, pressing little kisses down his jaw.
What they’re actually going for Ed doesn’t know, they don’t have time for much, only to enjoy this heat for a moment even if they’re going to be forced to break off soon.
“There can only be one emperor.” Ed points out, eyes rolling back when he feels teeth lightly scrape his throat.
“What would that make you?” Oswald’s hot breath fans his skin.
“Anything you want me to be.” It’s a confession when it slips out his mouth, he’ll still do anything he wants. Oswald is on tiptoes for his teeth to lightly tease his ear lobe, and he feels the beginning of an erection press against his own, back bent down to accept Oswald’s affection.
Ed’s back slides down the wall enough so Oswald can get a hold of his thigh and bring it up to his waist.
“Right now all I want you to be is on all fours in our bed.” He grinds against him and Ed moans in his throat at the friction. This is too much.
“Always with the ‘ours’ and ‘us.’” He says lightly, like it doesn’t mean everything to him to hear it.
He feels his smile, and then they’re connected at the mouth again, sharing hot kisses and panted breaths that sound louder in the quiet, empty hallway. The faint sound of the cryo gun still hums, they’re really far too close to the crew to be doing this.
“We don’t have time for this.” Ed says, eyes glazed. “I shouldn’t have started-“
Oswald’s tongue sinks into his mouth as his hand cups his cock firmly through his trousers, and Ed breaks off with a muffled moan.
‘Not shy anymore.’
All Ed’s weak protests fade to nothing, the heist he’d been planning for months that was nearly over is a distant echo in the back of his mind as he begins to try to figure out how long they’ve been in this hallway and if they have time to get each other off before-
“Boss, Freeze is almost done the bars will smash to - oh shit…”
It feels as if ice water has been poured down his spine, and they promptly break apart like startled teenagers.
Zsasz is frozen for a second in the dim hallway a few feet away, as Oswald pulls his coat straight and clears his throat, tries to rearrange his flushed face into a look of stony irritation. Ed isn’t sure what he’s doing, other than standing with his hands held up in front of him and his mouth open like an idiot.
There is no mistaking what they had been doing, Oswald’s hand had been on his cock for god’s sake.
“I didn’t see anything, boss.” And Zsasz turns on his heel and leaves quickly.
Ed straightens his glasses on his nose and feels oddly embarrassed, the wind rather taken out of his excitement.
‘Oswald will not like anybody having seen him in that state.’
“Apologies, Oswald, I know we should keep it professional at work.” He adjusts his jacket front and almost doesn’t want to look up at him to see if that look of lust has turned to annoyance at him.
“Apologies for what?” Vague amusement dances in Oswald’s bright eyes when he meets them. “I hope you don’t think I care that Zsasz caught us. Of course, it wasn’t the most dignified way for an underling to see me, but I’m not embarrassed, Ed, are you?”
He is struck with genuine surprise. Image is everything to Oswald.
“What if he tells people?” He says, like it’s obvious.
“Victor is a consummate professional.” He waves him off and touches his hair to check it hasn’t been mussed. “And truly, I wouldn’t care if he did.”
Oswald picks up his hat for him and Ed takes it, cannot believe how blasé Oswald is being.
“People would try to use our relationship against us if they knew.” He says. “Zsasz might not tell, but if it had been someone else…”
“Yes, indeed, they would try to use it against us.” Oswald picks up his discarded cane and leans his weight on it. “But to them I’m the Penguin, and you’re the Riddler, and no one has achieved what we have. Separately and together. Personally, I could not give a fuck what anyone tries to do to us.”
A smile spreads onto Ed’s lips. Oswald never fails to surprise him, of course, this should be no different. The man makes him feel like he’s standing on the edge of something, like he’s about to get ready to jump into a vast, electrifying unknown. He thinks he'll always be happy to jump, head first, right into those inky depths.
Ed puts his hat on and gestures his hand down the hall back to the vault.
“Shall we get to work, Oswald?”
“Yes, Ed.” The click of his cane echoes down the hall. “Let's.”