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“You think Nygma’s acting weird lately?” Harvey wondered aloud, leaning back in his chair and steadfastly ignoring the paperwork on his desk. It was a quiet day in the GCPD and with no dastardly criminal plots afoot, they had been relegated to menial paperwork, a job Harvey thought belonged properly to the junior officers. He carried out his silent protest in the best way he could conceive, by striking up conversation with Jim and stoking the fires of the precinct gossip.
This was not to say that he hadn’t noticed the shift in Nygma’s behaviour recently – the spring to his step that was no longer dampened by any rejection to his riddles, the way he couldn’t stop smiling even when he was wrist deep inside a cadaver, as though tickled pink by the death he was surrounded by, the way he kept checking his phone, almost constantly, fingers constantly typing at a frankly disturbing pace, as he smiled so widely Harvey had to look away. It was just weird, plain and simple.
Jim didn’t look up from his stack of paperwork, though his eyes were glazed over in a way that suggested he didn’t truly care about the work. He signed something offhandedly with his pen as he replied in a barely audible grunt.
“He’s always weird.”
Harvey took the dismissive comment as an invitation to vocalize his theories.
“Yeah, but more than usual – I told him to leave me the hell alone yesterday and he just smiled and did.”
Jim, with a weary grin, turned his chair to face Harvey.
“You’ve really got to start being nicer to the guy Harvey.” He said, though he was still smiling, and his voice distinctly lacked any chastising.
“You know I can’t help it – kid’s just so creepy – he pops up like a haunted puppet spouting gibberish about death and the like”, He took a breath, “S’just weird.”
Jim conceded this point with a shrug, and, accepting that no paperwork was going to get done, allowed himself to get pulled into the conversation.
“So, what’s the big deal then? So Ed’s a bit weird – I know it, you know it. The whole of Gotham probably knows.”
Harvey was now fully invested in his argument, and his voice rose slightly with a passion as he proclaimed, “Yeah but that’s just standard Nygma weird – I’m telling you, he’s gotten weirder lately, and you’ve got to have seen it too.”
Jim leaned back in contemplation, eyes trained on the ceiling of the precinct, and he tried to recall his recent interactions with Ed, but he honestly didn’t pay much attention at all to the forensic technician; he couldn’t recall a single riddle the man had asked him in the past week or so.
“Well?” Harvey prodded.
“Nope. Nothing.”
Harvey sighed. “Just you wait – you’ll see soon enough.” And with that he turned around to his desk, opened his desk drawer and took a swig from his flask before making a concerted effort to look busy.
As it turned out, they didn’t have long to wait at all. The next morning, Nygma materialised in front of them with his courtesy wide-eyed excitement and toothy grin. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, which Harvey saw, and then looked pointedly at Jim, who shook his head slightly and turned to the taller man.
“Ed, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
Ed, who had looked, before this question, like an animatronic waiting for some kid to put a coin in him, burst into life, his voice gleeful, his eyes sparkling and his hands, laden though they were with files, gesturing in great elegant swoops.
“A man is found in his apartment hanged from a noose, four foot off of the ground. There is no other furniture in the room but below him is a puddle –
“Nygma,” Harvey cut him off, bringing a hand up as though to shield himself from Ed’s chipperness, “Cut the crap and just tell us what’s going on, already.”
Jim was surprised to see Nygma take this objection almost entirely in his stride; ordinarily he would fumble with his words, swallow uncomfortably and answer their queries in a perfunctory manner, like someone had kicked his puppy, only ever regaining his cheerful demeanour when he got excited about any gruesome details of the case at hand.
This time though, Nygma merely adjusted his glasses, kept his smile up and said,
“The answer was a block of ice – a man was found in the street frozen solid. It’s absolutely fascinating.” He continued to debrief them, handing them the case files and never once stopping for breath. Jim could see that something was different in Ed, but it was relatively insignificant and really it was a positive change. Still, he wouldn’t be a detective if he wasn’t even a little curious about the change, and he told Harvey as much as they made their way to the scene.
“See?” Harvey exclaimed, “I knew you’d get it. So what’s the next move?”
Jim couldn’t really see any next move that wasn’t a violation of Ed’s privacy.
“Privacy shmivacy – the kid’s a weirdo – the change could mean he’s finally snapped and is one bad day away from being the reason one of these bodies is here.” He pressed a finger to Jim’s chest insistently, driving home his point.
Jim frowned at the crude description of Ed, but eventually capitulated. Hey, he was just a man, and he got as curious as anyone else. It wasn’t like they were actually going to find anything, right? So it didn’t really matter.
“Alright, but the moment we start crossing the line of concern and stalking is the moment we abort the mission.”
“Atta boy,” Harvey crowed, slapping him on the back as Jim grinned, “We’ll find out soon enough what our resident freak is hiding from us.”
Jim rolled his eyes at the word “freak” but said nothing.
Ed was already on the scene when they arrived, crouched next to the body, face impossibly close to the frozen man’s. Jim suppressed a shudder at the sight and felt his moral stance on privacy weaken. As Edward poked at the corpse’s face with the tip of his pen, dark eyes as wide as dinner plates, mouth hanging open slightly with wonder, Jim decided to intervene.
“Nygma!” he called out. Ed straightened immediately at hearing his name, swivelling with mechanical exactness, and grinning as he approached the pair, almost skipping and removing his surgical gloves with a loud snapping sound.
“Detectives! I was just inspecting the body – it really is an astounding case.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harvey said, “just give us the facts Nygma.”
Again not missing a beat, Ed began, “Well, I’d have to analyse the body back at the precinct to be certain, but it seems that Mr John Doe here was frozen instantaneously.”
He stepped back, head swivelling back and forth between the two detectives, as though trying to instil in them the same excitement he was feeling.
Jim was confused, “So you’re saying the body was killed and then frozen, right?”
Ed shook his head, “Nope.” He said, popping the “P” sound, “No external wounds or markings – it would appear that it was the freezing that killed him.” He began to pick up the pace of his speech now, excitement seeping into his voice, “In broad daylight, nowhere nearby that would be able to freeze someone without them – Oh!”
His phone was buzzing. He turned to the detectives, smiling apologetically as he said,
“One moment please – I have to take this.”
He then speedwalked, until he was about ten feet away, opened his phone and answered. Immediately there was a dramatic change about his face. For starters, it split into one of the widest grins Jim had ever seen, his eyes crinkling with mirth, as he engaged in pleasantries that they could just barely catch snippets of. Furthermore, his posture seemed to slouch slightly into a comfortable stance, as though he were sharing an intimate moment with someone. Jim even felt at one point that he was intruding on something private and felt bad just for witnessing the conversation.
This did not stop him from trying to listen in. He missed most of it, on account of the distance between them and the fact that he only had Ed’s side of the conversation to listen to. He did happen to catch the last few sentences though.
“Yes, I like it very much, but you really didn’t have to – I know, I know, but it really is too much and – alright okay, but I’m getting you back for that. Yes, I’m still on for dinner tonight – I’ll cook –
After this, there was a pause, where Ed was clearly listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Spots of colour had bloomed high on his cheeks.
“I miss you too, but I’ve got to go – I’m at work.” Another pause, “I can’t wait.”
Jim turned away as he said his goodbyes, looking to Harvey to see if he had picked up on the conversation as well. He had.
“So that’s it then,” he mused, “Nygma’s got a girlfriend?”
“Seems that way.”
Harvey was clearly about to say more on the subject but by then Ed was bounding back to them in high spirits, and Harvey couldn’t resist making a crack at him.
“Mother calling you?” he joked, jabbing him lightly in the ribs with his elbow as he smirked.
Ed’s body rapidly became as rigid as the corpse before them, and his face grew stony, mouth falling from its easy grin into a pressed line, his jaw clenched as though he were carefully exerting a monumental amount of pressure on his teeth.
“No.” He spat, “That was not my mother.”
“Aw come on Nygma!” Harvey called as Nygma retreated away from them, every part of his body tightly clenched as though he were a toy soldier being marched off.
“It was just a joke!” Nygma didn’t turn around, getting into the GCPD car and being driven back to the precinct.
Harvey appealed to Jim, “You’d think someone like him could take a joke, wouldn’t you?”
Jim shrugged, “You have been testing him lately.”
“Oh, like he doesn’t test us every time he opens his mouth.” He scoffed.
“At least now we know why he’s been acting differently: he’s got a girlfriend – now we don’t have to do any more digging.”
“Seriously? That’s where your curiosity ends. You don’t want to know even slightly what kind of woman would date him? Or what the relationship’s like? I mean he must be different away from here or I don’t know how anyone could stand to be in a relationship with him.”
Jim grunted, begrudgingly admitting to himself that he was a little bit curious. Harvey seemed to sense this as well, as he clapped him on the shoulder and said,
“It’s not that big of a deal – we’ll just keep an eye on the kid for a while and ask the right questions.”
Jim did not think Harvey was the type to ask the “right questions”, especially not after the phone call debacle, but he refrained from telling him this.
A week had passed since the phone call, and Jim and Harvey had been keeping close watch over Ed, filing away anything strange away to be conferred on later. If they were honest, this business with Ed and his mysterious girlfriend was the most interesting thing to happen to them in months, and they both enjoyed the evenings spent at the bar speculating on what the girlfriend was like.
“I’ll bet she’s deaf or something – can’t get annoyed by riddles if you can’t hear them.”
“Nah – Ed would learn sign language before he’d let someone not listen to his riddles.”
“Maybe she’s one of those women – what are they, the ones that – that –
“the ones that like riddles? I doubt there’s many.”
“I was gonna say the ones that are all strange and goth, but that works too. No way someone likes riddles that much – even if they did, I doubt they’d like ‘em after spending an afternoon with Nygma.”
“Fair enough, I know I couldn’t.”
And then they would clink their bottles and drink, enjoying a night of easy companionship and discussion. Lee would definitely call it gossip if she knew about it – she would also probably call it mean, and for these reasons Jim kept these little meetings from her.
One day, Jim decided to just bite the bullet and ask Ed straight up. Spotting him at the watercooler, he approached, Harvey in tow, grabbed a cup, filled it with water and, in the most casual tone he could muster, asked
“So, how’s the girlfriend Ed?”
Ed, caught so completely off guard by the question, choked on his water, and coughed into his arm for a good minute, as Jim stared awkwardly, well aware of some of the other officers watching the spectacle.
Regaining his composure, Ed straightened, took a deep breath, and blinked at Jim,
“What word is most commonly spelled incorrectly?”
Harvey found his words quicker than Jim.
“What have we said about the riddles, Nygma?”
As he was saying this, the answer clicked in Jim’s mind.
“Incorrectly. You’re saying we’re incorrect.”
Ed beamed at him in a congratulatory manner and said “Yep.” Before retreating to his office.
Harvey turned to Jim, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“I did not take Nygma for a liar.”
Jim agreed – the man seemed honest to a fault – he didn’t seem to have the capacity for duplicity in any measure.
“But if he’s not lying, who was that on the phone?”
“Maybe it really was his mother. Though I wouldn’t call him if I were her – I mean imagine the years raising a son and that’s how he turns out.”
“Hey, Ed’s not that bad.”
“He just told us a riddle, lying about not having a girlfriend.”
“Point taken, but still, maybe she broke up with him.”
Harvey tilted his head, considering. “Hopefully not – it might send the kid over the edge.”
The bleakness of the statement startled Jim, “You think he’d off himself?”
Harvey’s tone was blasé as he spoke, “Himself, someone else, who knows what he’d do – the kid’s not right bud.”
With that grim thought, the two returned back to their desks and didn’t say anything for the rest of the morning. Jim couldn’t stop thinking about what Ed had said. Surely he would show some sign of upset if he’d been broken up with. The man wasn’t a machine, no matter what the other officers thought.
The next Monday gave them plenty of fuel for any theories they had as Ed not only showed up to work ten minutes late (a massive time gap for a man who kept his time as strictly as Ed did) but wearing a suit that Jim could only guess the price of.
It was an impeccably tailored suit - a deep green fabric that was almost black - the exact opposite of his usual cheap suits with the trousers hanging limply above his ankles and his suit jackets that showed off long stretches of his wrists even when relaxed. It was perfectly fitted, with silver cufflinks that glittered in the light, and a bejewelled tie clip attached to a silky forest green tie. No one could deny that it suited him well, his usually awkward, gangly frame suddenly lithe and elegant.
“Jesus,” Harvey exhaled, seeing him enter the precinct, “Nygma’s gotten into bank robbing. It’s the only explanation.”
Jim tracked Ed with his eyes as he sped towards the laboratory, slightly distressed from his lateness. As he did so, the sparkle of the tie clip and the cufflinks caught his eye, and he was struck with an idea.
He locked eyes intensely with Harvey and aimed for a nonchalant tone.
“He’s not got a girlfriend because –
“He’s got a sugar momma!” Harvey interjected.
“Exactly!” Jim said, “That’s got to be it – no way he can afford that outfit on his salary.”
“And it explains why he said he didn’t have a girlfriend – it must be totally transactional.” Harvey decided, then screwed his face up at the idea of what Ed may be giving in a transactional relationship.
Jim, realising the same thing, swallowed uncomfortably and focussed on his work for the rest of the day.
At a certain point, both detectives became mildly concerned over how much time and brainpower they were dedicating to figuring out what was going on in Ed’s personal life. In fact, if you had asked either of them a few months ago what was going on with Ed, they would have responded that they don’t know and don’t particularly care. Upon realising this, they both made a concerted effort to think and talk about anything else.
This resolution was broken almost as swiftly as it was put into place when they were called into the precinct for some urgent matter at two in the morning.
There was a protocol in these situations regarding dress code. Namely that the usual restrictions on what was considered appropriate officewear were considerably loosened for employees called in at exceptionally late times. Indeed, Harvey, who looked like he’d been dragged through a bush backwards at the best of times, was even more dishevelled than usual, with misaligned shirt buttons on his untucked shirt, no tie and bloodshot eyes crusted with sleep. Jim also looked slightly worse for wear, having omitted his usual tie and wearing his civilian shoes.
These loosened constrictions were relaxed even more so for the workers not in the immediate line of duty, so, while Ed’s appearance was unexpected, it was not worth disciplinary action, just a few odd looks.
Odd looks that were completely warranted though.
Upon seeing Ed, who was not making eye contact as he handed them the hastily constructed file on the case before swiftly moving back and standing at a distance, fingers dancing restlessly against his leg, Harvey blinked, rubbed his eyes blearily with his fists, and wondered if he should quit drinking.
Jim almost dropped his coffee.
Without so much as a glance at one another, they both knew that the investigation was back on.
Because Ed was stood before them in a glittering emerald suit, the shirt hastily buttoned save for the top few. His hair was mussed and had fallen from its usual quiff to frame his eyes, dusted with the remnants of a pale green glitter that he had clearly unsuccessfully attempted to wash off. While this may have been easily ignored, what couldn’t be ignored, no matter how hard the officers tried, was the vast expanse of hickeys all up his neck. Marbling purple bruising that stretched along his exposed clavicle all the way up his neck, bracketed with bite marks. His lips were swollen and shined with spit, and one of his trouser buttons was undone.
“Jesus Nygma, I’m almost scared to ask what we interrupted” Harvey commented, punctuating it with an astonished stare and a low whistle.
Ed flushed brilliant red and sent a powerful glare Harvey’s way.
Instinctively, Harvey held his hands up in surrender, and Jim stepped in between them, noticing the immediate change in tension in the room.
“Harvey, leave it – all that matters is that we’re here now. No matter where,” he glanced in Edward’s direction, “We came from.”’
“Yeah,” Harvey agreed, unable to believe that Nygma had actually freaked him out a bit there – he’d never known the kid to be remotely threatening, but the glare he’d sent him was so full of pure, barely restrained rage that it actually unnerved him. He put aside the thought as they began to read through the case.
As they went through the file, Jim’s face became more and more grim. Harvey dropped the case file onto his desk with a sigh and turned to Jim.
“What’s the call?”
Jim inhaled deeply, “We’re going to have to make a call at the Iceberg.”
“Woah woah woah.” Harvey exclaimed, “You think Penguin did this?”
“Nah; it’s not his MO, but we’ll need his help and he’s,” Jim said, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his forehead as though he had a headache, saying, through gritted teeth, “a friend.”
They gave word to their captain on where they were going, and he informed them that they could go, but they had to take Ed with them, with the idea in mind that he would report back any illegal activity to him.
To say the drive to the Iceberg Lounge was awkward would be like saying a blue whale was “quite large”. It would be true, but would not at all convey the actual magnitude of the situation.
Jim had informed Ed that things going on may be slightly less than legal and that it was for the best if he kept quiet about it, and Ed gave him a withering stare that suggested he thought Jim was a particularly stupid man.
After ten minutes of driving in painful silence, Harvey tried to break the tension.
This went about as well as you would expect.
“So, Nygma, what’s with all the…” he gestured up and down at Edward’s whole figure.
Ed’s response was icy to say the least, “I don’t believe I’m required to disclose that.” He clipped, his mouth set in a severe frown.
“Just makin’ friendly conversation, Nygma.”
“Well don’t.”
“Look, just because you’ve got a stick up your ass, doesn’t mean you have to be annoying about it. Everyone knows you’ve got yourself a little lady friend, and no one cares that you’re getting some action, even if it is very… glittery action. So just unclench alright?”
Ed had gone quiet while Harvey was speaking, but he could see now that the man was seething with vexation, his fingers twitching as though he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Harvey’s neck.
When he spoke, it was in a strained voice, gaining volume as he went on.
“I said. I. Don’t. Have. A. Girlfriend.”
“Fine, I don’t care what you call it. Girlfriend, friends with benefits, lady friend, hooker you fell in love with, or even sugar momma.” He listed them off with growing mirth, saying the last one with a mocking lilt that he immediately regretted as Edward’s fist swung towards his face with violence and intensity he still had not come to expect.
His reflexes kicked in though, and he ducked, grabbing out at Ed’s arm and aiming to disarm him. Just as he was about to deliver a, definitely deserved, revenge punch, Jim’s voice rang out.
“Hey, hey! Cut it out you two!” They did, slumping back into their seats and ignoring Jim as he mumbled something about babysitting and not being paid enough.
“Yes, Mom.” Harvey called out sarcastically.
Ed, meanwhile, was trying out one of his new breathing exercises that he had recommended to Oswald, trying to get his temper under control and reminding himself that he would be seeing his boyfriend very soon, traffic permitting. He tried his best not to focus on the stench of whiskey emanating from the pathetic excuse for a higher primate Bullock.
It was the exact same brand his father would drink before he beat him senseless.
He breathed shallowly through his mouth for the rest of the drive, whole body turned away from Bullock.
Ed was immensely relieved when the oh so familiar Iceberg Lounge appeared before them, and he couldn’t help but grin as he thought about seeing Oswald there again. They had been enjoying each other’s company in one of the backrooms when he had been called in to work and he was hoping that Gordon and Bullock would forget about him and leave him here. It had happened before with other officers, though he believed that was deliberate.
Jim, seeing Ed smiling in the car mirror, looked at him quizzically. Ed didn’t respond, instead rushing out of the car towards the bouncer.
Harvey looked at Jim in amazement, “He’s going to get himself killed.”
“Yep.” Jim agreed, bolting out of the car and rushing ahead of Ed to ask the bouncer to see the Penguin.
Harvey, who had tried to follow Jim, but was hampered by his mild desire to see Nygma get some sense beaten into him by a bouncer, watched as he overtook Nygma, and saw the irritated look on Ed’s face.
Seriously, what was this kid’s deal – he goes to a club once and gets some and now he thinks he’s invincible – he, the human embodiment of a pipe cleaner! Harvey would never understand what went on inside that guy’s head.
Presently, Jim was trying to convince the bouncer to let them in. The bouncer, towering almost a foot over Jim, and twice as wide as him, with a bulge in his jacket that was definitely a gun, maintained a stony refusal, and Jim was beginning to get frustrated. Eventually though, the man relented and got one of the staff members to retrieve the Penguin from wherever he was.
Ed was giddy with excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet and flapping his hands slightly, out of sight from Jim and Harvey. He and Oswald had been dating for three months, two weeks and five days, and yet he could never shake the excitement he felt when they were about to see one another. He had to remind himself that they were here on business.
The trio were led to a door at the back of the main lounge, the same door Ed had rushed out of just an hour before, frantically trying to make himself look presentable. Though now he supposed that little fact didn’t matter much, and he surreptitiously undid another button on his shirt, revelling in the thought of Oswald’s icy blue eyes roving over his chest, admiring his handiwork. He’d left a good deal of marks on Oswald as well, though they were in less obvious places.
The door opened and there he was, lounging on the plush couch cradling a drink in his hand, head reclined, exposing his pale, pale neck, and perfectly showing off his profile – the elegant line of his nose and chin, his pink lips, wet with alcohol, his usually perfectly swept up hair slightly off from where Ed’s hands had been earlier and where he wished they were now. He was the picture of refinement and beauty, and Ed swallowed hard at the sight of him, his mouth suddenly dry.
Oswald’s head turned towards them as the door shut, eyes lighting up with glee and something darker as he set eyes on Ed in all his dishevelled, glittery glory, the corners of his mouth twitching into a mischievous grin that dimmed slightly at the sight of the two detectives.
“Detective Gordon,” he intoned in a bored voice, his eyes never quite leaving Ed, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Jim, who was used to Oswald being far more eager in their previous interactions, almost too eager, was thrown off slightly by this sudden nonchalance. Nevertheless, he persisted.
“We need a favour.”
“Hmm,” Oswald pretended to contemplate, widening his eyes and tapping at his chin with his free hand. Ed smirked at the scene and held back a laugh.
“Nope.”
Jim startled slightly, brows furrowing in confusion. Harvey stepped in,
“What do you mean no? This is GCPD business, and we can and will use force if necessary.” Saying this, he lifted his jacket to show off his holstered gun.
“You’ll be fired.” Ed practically sung, sounding oddly gleeful, Harvey thought.
“Stay out of this Nygma.”
“No.” Oswald commanded in a forceful tone. “Thank you, Edward.” He said, before pushing himself into standing, using the umbrella that had lain beside him on the floor as leverage. Then, putting his weight onto his better foot, he took the umbrella into two hands and aimed it at Bullock.
Edward wanted to clap his hands with excitement – he had hoped there would be an altercation like this. Oswald always came out on top.
And Ed had designed the umbrella he was holding.
Or should he say, he had designed the gun Oswald was holding. He cocked it, and Bullock, hearing the sound, realised the firepower he was up against and stepped back with a half fearful, half petulant huff.
“That’s better.” Oswald said, calm and collected. Ed couldn’t help but agree with him.
Jim, sensing he was losing the tenuous control he had over the situation, decided to pull out the big guns. Shooting Harvey a look that said, “don’t judge me”, he sidled up next to Oswald, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and speaking softly.
“Please, Oswald. I’ll be in your debt.”
Months ago, Jim would have been certain that this would work – the whole station had known of Oswald’s puppy crush on him and, though he had never stooped this low, he had always kept the move in his back pocket, for desperate situations.
Now though, the move seemed to backfire spectacularly – Oswald was glaring fiercely at his hand on his shoulder, his face a mask of indignation and disgust, and Jim could feel another pair of eyes on him, burning into the back of his head.
All of a sudden, Ed was at his hand, leaning in closely, and practically spitting out the words,
“Get your hand off of him before I cut it off.” His tone was dark and dangerous and Jim, genuinely feeling a jolt of fear run through him, carefully removed his hand.
“Easy Ed, we’re friends.” Jim tried to say, before being cut off by Oswald.
“We are not friends, Jim.” He seethed, “Friends do not treat each other like shit except for when they want their weekly favour. Besides, I am a taken man,” at this, he took on a theatrical, sarcastic tone, pressing his hand to his chest and feigning outrage, “and I find your cheap little flirtations deeply offensive. Now go, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
Jim, knowing when he was beaten, turned to leave, Harvey following after.
Ed remained glued to Oswald’s side.
Harvey turned back to him, “Come on Nygma, we’re leaving.”
“Oh dear,” Ed said, “I’m afraid I can’t leave.”
“Cut the crap Nygma, we’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, but you see, my darling boyfriend here has just been propositioned by another man and I think we’re going to need some time to ourselves to make sure he knows who he belongs to.” He almost growled the last few words, turning to bury his head in Oswald’s shoulder, teeth grazing the shorter man’s neck.
“What the –
“Detectives.” Oswald called, “I’d suggest you leave before I get my bouncers to escort you.” At this, Ed honest to god giggled, lifting his head to whisper something in Oswald’s ear that had the man blushing all over.
“Oh god,” Harvey cried.
“You have five seconds to leave before we make this very uncomfortable for you.” Oswald called.
They didn’t need to be told twice, and turned tail and ran, slamming the door shut behind them.
In the room, Oswald and Ed grinned at one another, and Oswald sat back on the sofa, pulling Ed down so that he was straddling him. Grabbing his collar, Oswald pulled Ed in for a searing kiss, nipping at his lip with his teeth as Ed’s moans reverberated through them both. Pressing their bodies together, Ed broke the kiss to lean back and breathlessly ask,
“When is a man like a piece of wood?”
Outside the bar, Jim and Harvey stood, wide-eyed, with mouths agape.
“So, he really didn’t have a girlfriend.” Harvey breathed, blinking hard and trying to adjust his worldview to incorporate weird little Ed shacking up with the King of Gotham.
“Let’s not snoop in anyone else’s love life I think.”
“Agreed. Now where’s the nearest bar? After that, I think I need a drink,”
“Only one?”
“One bottle, then maybe another.”
“Yeah, me too.”