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“That was stupid of you,” The bite in his words stung almost as much as the bruise forming on his side. “You’re so Goddamn stupid-”
Edward cut him off with a shove. Jonathan hissed, Edward found satisfaction in it. “Yeah? Well, i was saving your ass. So who’s really the stupid one here?”
His eyes flashed with anger, and possibly… Embarrassment. A scowl behind that mask, Edward guessed. It made Edward’s chest tighten. He reached a hand out, only for Jonathan to slap it away. He retracted it, looking over it to make sure he didn’t cut it, he got ready to apologize. The truck came to a jerky stop. Edward fell forward onto the ground, he groaned, Jonathan hit the wall and hissed. A cacophony of pain. Something they had in common. Maybe the only thing they had in common…
Jonathan pressed his heels into the floor and pushed himself back against the wall of the truck. Edward wanted to grab him by the ankle and drag him down with him. Both their heads snapped to the doors of the truck when they opened, frigid air seeping in. As frigid as Jonathan’s bony ass, Edward thought. He glared at the man. He didn’t even look at him.
The chilly air on his wounds didn’t help. Jonathan stood up first, all creaky bones and groans. Like an old house settling. He held his hand out to help Edward up, he slapped it away. He still had his dignity.
He got up with a groan of his own, stumbling into the taller man. Like a domino, he fell into the wall of the truck and Edward leaned on his side. The man outside the truck gazed at them with this certain kind of look, quick enough that Edward couldn’t decipher it, long enough that he felt judged and moved away from the burlap-clad man.
“Come on, Scarecrow.” Edward started, his voice muffled by his broken helmet. “I need to have a chat with a feathered fellow.” He didn’t get out of the truck fast enough to miss Jonathan’s begrudging sigh. His fingers dug into his palms, creating fists.
He couldn’t explain exactly how he felt. The pain in his body felt close to nothing when he looked at Jonathan and saw him clutching his stomach, hunched and limping. Bleeding. He wanted to cradle the man in his arms, say sweet soothing words to him. He would’ve attempted it too if he hadn’t known there was a plus one to their escape. It was for the best. The last time he tried to hug Jonathan he’d gotten as stiff as a plank of wood and told him he ‘wasn’t funny’. Whatever the hell that meant. But, he also wanted to bash him in the head for making him worry, and for being a hard-ass even when he looked like death. He wanted to have words for what he felt. He needed to know. So, he settled for saying he was angry with him.
Still, he stood by the truck, held out a hand, and helped his boyfriend out the metal death trap of suffocating emotions with an emotionally unavailable man.
Jonathan at least wasn’t angry enough to stick his needles directly into Edward’s awaiting hand. That was a plus. He placed his palm against Edward’s gently, with care, and for a second Edward’s anger towards him dissipated.
“Much obliged, Tinman.” Needles lifted and flicked Edward’s helmet, making a metal clink noise reverberate through his cracked and severely fractured helmet. His anger returned, in fact, it skyrocketed tenfold when he heard a snicker from their third wheeling nobody . He should’ve thrown him out the moving truck and drove them to the iceberg lounge himself.
The burly man had the mind to cut his chortle short and head over to the back door to open it for the two when Edward’s head snapped to look at him. He knew his emoticons weren’t working but the black screen did wonders when intimidating people, as much as the question mark did.
“Don’t call me that.” Came the green-clad man’s biting reply, turning his head back to Jonathan. Wide eyes stared at him from the black abyss his mask made, “Whatever you say, Riddle boy.”
Deep breath in . He clenched his hands tight. Deep breath out . He let them go lax. “Come on, Crow boy ,” He was sure behind those teeth glued to his mask he scowled, “Let’s go.”
Jonathan clung to him, knowing damn well he couldn’t hold his own weight. “Watch your head,” Edward muttered, pulling Jonathan closer by the waist as they crossed the threshold.
The hall they stood in was dry and dreary. Cold, too. A shiver went down Edward’s spine, he envied Jonathan’s thick layers, but not the itch and scratch of them.
Edward guided Jonathan down the hallway, only stumbling once or twice. For a man as skinny as he was, he still wasn’t light. His gear was heavier than him, Edward suspected. Blue and purple lights came into view through the plastic windows of two doors at the end of the hall. Edward stopped in front of them. He helped Jonathan lean against the wall, letting go of him once he was sure he wouldn’t collapse. There was no way he was attempting to lift that man with the amount of things he carried on his person.
“You stay here. I’ll go talk with Oswald.”
“Oswald?” Jonathan repeated. “Unlike you, my connections aren’t all acquaintances who have tried to kill me.”
“Right. Only friends who’ve tried to kill you.”
Edward rolled his eyes and held his tongue. After all, he was dating a man who tortured and tried to kill him. That was all water under the bridge now though, and so was Oswald’s attempts to kill him. At least with Oswald he knew it was merely business.
Edward untied his belt and slipped his coat off. Jonathan took it with no complaints. Then he loosened his tie. He paused when he noticed the way Jonathan was staring at him. “What?” Jonathan adjusted his footing, “Y’know… A hallway near a door ain’t the best place for a strip tease-”
“Oh, shut up, Crane!”
He slapped his chest, Jonathan winced but chuckled at his reaction. “I’m just sayin’...”
“I can’t go in there dressed in question marks, you idiot!” He threw his tie at Jonathan, it looped around his neck and hung precariously on his shoulders, threatening to fall on the floor. Edward shivered at the thought; who knew how many people had walked through this hallway- Who is to say what they’d trudged through beforehand!
“But i thought you loved to make unnecessary scenes.”
Edward scoffed, “Look who’s talking.” He retorted. He missed Jonathan rolling his eyes, preoccupied with taking off his helmet. Warmth left his face in a rush and he felt relief from it. It got stuffy in that thing from time to time. He didn’t understand how Jonathan preferred to wear his mask. He’d chalk it up to him being an oddball, for now.
Edward felt cold metal and rough fabric graze his cheek. He flinched, grabbing Jonathan’s wrist in a tight grip. “You’re bleeding.” Jonathan informed him, making him pause. “If you’re trying to clean it at least take off that God awful gauntlet of yours.”
Jonathan was tempted to stab him in the face with a needle, he could tell. Instead, the man took the syringed gauntlet off and then used his thumb to wipe blood off Edward’s face. It stung when he got close to the cut on his cheek, but he was surprisingly gentle with Edward. He could feel his stomach doing flips because of it. He knew for certain that he was only this gentle- Only this sweet - With him. He felt a sense of pride knowing that.
Jonathan’s gaze flickered from his cheek to his lips. Edward hoped he’d just kiss him already. Jonathan’s gray eyes met Edward’s green ones again, he moved his hand away from his cheek. “That’s the best i can do.” Edward tried not to let his disappointment show. He nodded and handed his helmet over to Jonathan. “Don’t die while i’m gone.”
“No promises.”
Edward rolled his eyes and turned, pushing the double doors open and stepping through the threshold. He was met with a dark room, illuminated by blue lights. People in suits and dresses scattered the place, tables were full, chatter was loud, and through it all was a man singing a beautiful tune. Edward glanced at the stage, purple lights shining down on the red-headed man dressed to the nines in a purple, sparkling dress. He looked away and prayed the man didn’t notice him through those sunglasses he always wore. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was catch up with the Meister.
He had to push through gaggles of the rich and the rude, apologizing only for show, and to avoid a bigger headache. He found the old bird himself sitting at a table, talking with some prick Edward only knew by appearances on billboards and in interviews he skipped. Who the hell cares about cosmetic clays anyway? That sounded like the start of a horror movie where it turns you into a clay monster or something. Oswald had a girl on his lap that, in any other circumstance, he would’ve called the third gold digger of the day. He’d be nicer tonight than he was any other day.
A firm hand pushed Edward back, returning the distance between him and the table. Edward was met with a man twice his size- So, almost around Jonathan’s height, but twice his build. Right, Oswald and his stupid bodyguards.”I need to speak with Cobblepot,” He tried to push passed the man, but of course, that didn’t work.
“Mr. Cobblepot isn’t expecting anymore company.” He was shoved back. He scoffed, “You’d think you’d keep your employees classy to match the place, but i guess you always have been the type to pay the least you can for anything, Penguin .” Edward raised his voice. The hulking figure in front of him, and the petite frame of the woman on Oswald’s lap both froze.
The businessman raised a brow, lifting his glass of wine, and took a sip. He looked amused. He certainly didn’t know Oswald and his temper well, then… Or he did, and he was anticipating what the shorter man would do.
The old bird veered his neck in the prince of puzzles direction, a dark shadow of rage covered his eyes. A violent urge, deep inside his soul. Edward knew that look well, his father wore it often. He knew that feeling well, he saw that look in his own eyes when he looked in the mirror.
Light outshined the darkness when the two men’s eyes met. “Unless you’ve got gold for me, i don’t want to hear a thing from you, Leprechaun.” Edward huffed, Oswald laughed. It was an annoying, unbelievable laugh. Like a cartoon penguin quacking.
…Was that what it would be called? Quacking? Honking, maybe?
It was horrible, either way. Up there with Scarecrow’s grating cackle. A cartoon penguin and a wicked witch. He was glad they didn’t share a sense of humor.
“I’ll have some gold for you if you listen to me.”
Edward could only describe the noise Oswald made as one of a greedy businessman, hungry for all the money in the world.
“I’d like to discuss this in a more,” He cleared his throat for emphasis, “ Private setting.”
“Always so secretive,” Oswald tutted, as if the man’s entire business wasn’t built on deplorable secrets. At least Edward’s secrets were fun . “I like to keep my integrity,” His gaze flickered to the man and woman at the table, “Unlike some.”
He could tell he was getting on Oswald’s nerves already. He didn’t care. “Let’s get some drinks, shall we?” Oswald put his hands on the blonde woman’s hips, pulling her off his lap. “Feel free to… Entertain our guest as you see fit, Baby .”
Edward felt genuine disgust at the tone Oswald struck with the woman. He could just vomit at the sound of it, at the sight of his hands groping her hips.
One form of hell vanished when he let go of her and stood up. He was far from heaven, still. In fact, he was on the path to begging at the devil’s feet.
Edward walked slowly to accommodate his friend’s waddle-like limp. Getting away from the two guests he had took forever, making it to the bar counter felt like a feat, and in Edward’s peripheral he saw the bodyguard starting to follow them. Could they get this over with any slower?
“Oswald,” A voice slurred the second they arrived at the bar. Edward wanted to slam his head into the counter repeatedly, get his miserable life over with. Why did he have to think that into existence? How long could Jonathan wait before he got fed up and did something drastic? What if Scarecrow took the reins because of the pain Jonathan was in? He paled at the thought.The bastard would gas the place with everyone- Including Edward- Inside for shits and giggles.
“Tweedle… Dum!” Oswald greeted, the bald man’s face soured. “Tweedle dee !” He corrected, his voice rising. “Ah, my apologies.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Edward muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t you have a shitty story to go tell some poor lost girl?” He snapped at the drunkard.
“Look who’s talking!” He didn’t hesitate to yell his retort in return. “I don’t even tell stories, Dumbass-”
“Someone’s in a bad mood today.” Oswald cut in, “Is it… That time of the month again already?” Tweedle- Dumbass cackled, while Edward’s face reddened. “Shut up,” He retaliated rather weakly.
“Fighting with your host now too? This isn’t a good look for you, Nygma.”
“That’s why i wear a mask,” He retorted with a wry smile. That earned a snort from Oswald, “Where is your mask, anyway?”
“I didn’t want to bring attention to myself—”
“Surprising.”
Oswald was lucky he didn’t knock Music Meister off the stage mid-song to tell riddles while Jonathan kept all the guests from leaving just for that comment. He’s pretty sure Music Meister would beat him with his heel though, as if he needs it- The 6’2” petty bastard.
“— So i had my acquaintance hold it for me.”
Edward saw the light flash in Oswald’s eyes: He was intrigued. “Oh?” He pushed for more information. He most likely thought it was someone he could do business with, how laughable.
“Yeah, he’s waiting for me to get back to him. It must be difficult, holding that helmet with needles for fingers.” He sighed, shaking his head. He had to refrain from laughing at not only Oswald’s reaction, but Tweedledee’s too.
Oswald’s smile dropped into a thin line, his posture noticeably rigid. Tweedledee choked on his drink, did a double take to make sure Edward was serious, and got up and left . Ha! What a wuss! Jonathan wasn’t even that scary without the fear toxin! Everyone was scared of an insensitive hick.
The rewards for working with him, for uttering his name, just mentioning those needles- It was satisfying. Nothing beat the terrified faces and how quickly their attitudes changed. It was always ‘yes, sir!’s and ‘anything you want!’ When Jonathan donned that mask… He understood why he liked it.
Oswald watched Tweedle-Whichever leave and then his gaze darted around the room. Edward realized with a start that he was looking for Jonathan. ”You brought that thing in here?!” He hissed. He couldn’t find it in himself to sympathize with the rich man before him.
“I did, and that thing is pissed because our heist didn’t go according to plan, so he’s just itching to find a reason to spike drinks-”
“God dammit , Nygma!” He grabbed Edward by the collar of his shirt, yanking him down with a force that reminded Edward that the man in front of him was considered a ‘villain’ just like him. “I told you not to bring anymore freaks in here!”
Look at yourself, Hypocrite . He bit his tongue. Maybe another day he’d bring that up, on his acquaintances' behalf. “You said not to bring Tetch’s ‘ freaky ass ’ back into your establishment.” He corrected.
“You know what i meant!”
“Clearly not if we have to have this conversation.”
Oswald’s face scrunched in anger. What was he going to do? Spit on him? Better safe than sorry. “You really should let go of me now. Wouldn’t want something… Bad to happen, if this was all taken out of context.”
The bodyguard came over, looking ready to toss Edward over a table. Oswald raised a hand, making the man stop in his tracks. Oswald let go of Edward’s shirt collar and he stood up straight. “I swear to God if he-”
“I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t worry.”
“He’s known for evading eyes on him.” Oswald pointed out. Edward almost rolled his eyes, but remembered he wasn’t wearing his helmet so he shouldn’t. “Well i’m known for knowing everything because i keep an eye on everything. He won’t do anything… Unless he has to.”
Oswald scowled. He hated this. Edward knew that and he loved it. “What do you want?” He practically growled, so much for caring friends, huh?
Edward thought of all the things he could demand: Money, lackeys, machinery. He could have it all if he played his cards right… But he’d played enough cards tonight, and right here, right now, he decided to throw in his hand. “A room for the night.”
Oswald’s face morphed from anger and discontent to confusion. “What?” He squawked. Edward couldn’t help but crack a smile. He shrugged, humming, “Just a room. One, two beds? Working sink, operating bathroom…” He continued, as if Oswald didn’t know what he meant. Just for fun, to get under his skin.
“I know what a room is,” Oswald snapped, Edward raised his hands up in mock defense, “Just making sure!” He reasoned. To which Oswald scoffed.
“So, what do you say?” Oswald looked skeptical, and Edward didn’t blame him. “Just for the night. We’ll be out of your,” Thinning , “Hair tomorrow.”
The older man thought it over. The more Edward waited, the more he thought about bringing up Scarecrow again. “Fine.” Edward refused to let his relief show, “ Just one night.”
“Sensible per usual, i see.”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
“Now when have i ever let you down?” Oswald scoffed.
The wait was becoming unbearable. His aching back pressed against the wall, that and his leg brace were the only things keeping him up. He was highly aware of this fact. He tried to ignore Scarecrow and his resentment. He’s just going to leave you here to be his personal hat rack while he sells you out .
Jonathan ignored it, adjusting his footing, much to the dismay of the rest of his body. His pain felt humiliating, especially here, in a hallway leading to a damn club. What would his granny think of him being here? He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to meet the wall.
The fact she’d disapprove is a good thing . Scarecrow reasoned, and while Jonathan didn’t admit it, he appreciated it.
The doors pushed open, Jonathan’s head and hand raised in sync, syringes pointed directly at the culprit in the doorway. He dropped his hand, scoffing when he saw Edward in front of him, holding a drink in one hand.
“So that’s what took you so long? You were drinking with friends ?” He hissed, craning his neck down to make him truly feel that height difference. Edward looked down at the glass, “Oh, no. I wrestled this from a woman up to her eyes in booze. Really, it’s for the best, she must’ve already had alcohol poisoning.”
“I’ll poison you if you ever make me wait around that long again.” He growled, “Didja get the damn room or not?”
“Snappy,” Edward teased, backing down and backing up at the sight of needles reaching for his neck. Looks like Jonathan will snap his neck, he’s pushed his luck enough.
“Yes, i got the room. Two beds, one bath, more medical supplies. It all awaits us.”
“Great. Take your shit and lead the way.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed, he flashed a wry smile and grabbed his things from Jonathan. “My pleasure.” He said behind closed teeth. He put his coat on and carried his helmet under his arm, leading the way to the room they’d be staying in.
The room was nothing special, hotel status, maybe four star. The mini fridge made a funny sound, the beds were firm, and the thickness of the walls was debatable. Edward could still hear the Music Meister singing when they had to be at least two walls away on the opposite side of where the stage was. Noisy bastard.
Edward pulled on his sleeves, shimmied out of his jacket with the last of his enthusiasm and vigor. He tossed it on the desk, his tie was next, then his gloves. He placed his helmet down on top of the pile and went to the bathroom. He opened the cabinet door under the sink and found a smorgasbord of medical supplies. He remembered now especially why he was friends with Oswald.
He grabbed the things they needed and returned to Jonathan’s side. “Come on, i’ll patch you up.” He gestured for him to take off his mask and anything else he needed to.
He waited with as much patience as he could. Jonathan took off his gauntlets, dropping them on the bed. He took off his hat, and Edward got a full view of that hideous mask he wore. “Ugh!” Edward grimaced, staring at the human teeth on the mouth and his eyes, surrounded by black, staring at him. He almost looked like he didn’t have eyelids.
Edward felt sick. “Take that thing off.” He commanded, looking away. “Why? You scared ?” Edward pushed passed the disgust and unease he felt, just so he could glare at him with the intensity of three suns.
“Take it off, or i’ll take it off for you.”
Jonathan leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. “ Snappy .” Edward’s face dropped. Oh . So he thought he was clever now? Well, that made it his turn to try to snap his neck. Or, he could always deny him medical attention and hope he died in his sleep.
Jonathan loosened the noose around his neck and pulled his mask off. It seemed Jonathan at least still had some common sense. He placed his mask on the bed with his gloves and pulled off his coat. He looked like the bones of his coat once it was off; skinny and gangly, but not frail.
Deep red soaked the side of his shirt, uncomfortably sticking the fabric to his skin. He started to peel that off too with no regard for his wound.
“Woah! Hey!” Edward’s outstretched hand stopped when Jonathan’s did. He stared at him like he did something wrong. Go figure. “Be careful,” Edward suggested- Demanded, even, in an incredulous fashion.
“I’m fine.” He argued, annoyed by Edward’s concern.
“You won’t be for long if you treat all your wounds like that.” The shorter man scoffed. He stopped waiting with baited breath for permission and grabbed ahold of the hem of Jonathan’s shirt. Carefully , he began peeling it off of Jonathan’s long torso.
He pulled it over his head, worsening the state of his hair. Edward couldn't stop the snort that left him at the sight of the gangly man’s hair standing up like a rooster’s comb. “What?” Jonathan’s brows furrowed, Edward looked away to keep from laughing. “Nothing,” He lied. Jonathan gave him a skeptical look but didn’t comment further.
Edward returned his gaze to Jonathan, looked at the scars peppering his skin, wrapped taut around his ribcage like an oddly wrapped present with too little wrapping paper. If he were to suck his stomach in, Edward was sure he’d be able to see his bottom ribs with no problem.
In all honesty, he didn’t know how the man was still alive with the shape he was in. He sat down beside him, avoiding his deadly gloves. He reached a hand out and touched the surgical scar on his chest without thinking.
Jonathan felt as rigid as a board. His skin was rough, and the scar was raised. He didn’t have to touch the identical one on the other side to know they felt the same.
“I thought about getting mine removed,” He mused, “Was it worth it?” He was scoffed at, and he didn’t even feel offended by it this time.
“They never looked good on me anyway.”
“Mine look good, they’re just not for me.” He reasoned. “Fair enough.” Was his boyfriend’s reply. He moved his hand away and reached into the first aid kit, “If only trading were an option, i’d trade with someone. Like the Meister.”
“I think you’d still have to get work done, in that case.”
Edward let out an abrupt cackle, he covered his mouth and folded in half. Jonathan chortled in comparison, and for a moment, they felt normal.
He put the first aid kit away, walking back out to find Jonathan in the exact same spot as before. He got ready to exchange words with him when he saw him still sitting down there. There was no way in hell he was letting him wear that to bed, he didn’t care how tired he was. He paused, however, when he saw Jonathan hunch over, tugging at the first strap on his leg brace at the speed of a sloth.
Edward came over, lowering himself with a hand on the bed. He groaned, a protest deep from within his body. He swatted Jonathan’s hands away from the leg brace. Jonathan grabbed him by the wrist. “I don’t need your help.” He growled. He should’ve known he’d get defensive, all because his boyfriend wanted to help.
Yes, you do . It was obvious he did! He was all kinds of fucked up, worse than Edward was. Enough so that Edward wasn’t even making fun of him much! “I know,” He lied, for the sake of not fighting. “But i want to help, so quit whining.”
Jonathan’s grip on his wrist tightened, he stared deep into his eyes. Edward stared back, keeping his resolve. Jonathan backed down, letting go of his wrist. “Just be careful, don’t want you makin’ my leg any worse.”
Edward rolled his eyes. He said that as if they both weren’t very familiar with each other’s leg problems. Whatever, he can’t expect much more from Jonathan of all people.
He wasted no time undoing the straps on his brace, all the while thinking of how he could improve on the design. His gaze flickered up, and he saw Jonathan staring at him. That wasn’t what surprised him, he knew he’d be watching him like a hawk the whole time. What surprised him was the soft look in his eyes, that gentleness Edward didn’t think Jonathan was capable of. It took his breath away and reminded him of just how much he really loved him.
He made the Jonathan Crane soft .
Jonathan must’ve noticed that Edward was looking at him similarly. He looked away, clearing his throat. Edward decided not to dwell on it, or else Jonathan would build those walls higher. If that were even possible.
Edward put his hand under Jonathan’s leg, “Lift your leg,” Jonathan did so obediently, pleasantly surprising Edward. He took the brace off his leg with some struggle and propped it against the nightstand, “There, you’re free!” Jonathan grumbled something under his breath, Edward decided it was a very kind and bashful thank you.
He pushed himself up off the floor, groaning. His bones felt like creaking door hinges in need of oil. He sat down next to Jonathan, sighing heavily. He leaned down, pulling up his pant leg. He ran his fingers over the hard, smooth surface of his prosthetic leg, finding his way to the button on the side.
He paused when a hand, larger and thinner than his own, rested on top of his. He looked up at the tall man beside him, and after a few seconds of silence he spoke up. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Lift your leg.”
Touché. Edward lifted his leg, draping it over Jonathan’s lap. He moved his hand from the button, propping them on the bed, he watched Jonathan’s movements.
Jonathan pressed the button and wriggled his socket by an inch. His grey eyes flickered to meet Edward’s green ones, his thumb left the button and his hands took a hold of his prosthetic leg. Steadily, he pulled the socket off, his gaze meeting Edward’s once more to make sure he’d done everything right. Which seemed redundant considering he hadn’t been yelled at and Edward’s leg was off, leaving the remainder of his flesh and bone leg.
“You can set it by the nightstand.” Edward told him, watching from his peripheral as Jonathan grabbed his brace to set Edward’s prosthetic in its place. He took off the lining on his leg, and tossed it haphazardly onto the flat surface of the nightstand. He felt triumphant when it didn’t hit the lamp. Jonathan got up and Edward watched him incredulously, “What’re you doing? You shouldn’t be standing.”
“Shut your trap, i’m goin’ to lay down.” Edward felt his heart sink at the realization that Jonathan was going to sleep on the other bed. He couldn’t hide the frown on his face, the disappointment written all over his expression. Jonathan didn’t see it, his back was turned to him. He limped over to the opposite bed and dropped his leg brace with less care than Edward would show his prosthetic. Jonathan never was the most careful when it came to himself, maybe that’s why he was in worse shape than Edward.
Edward watched him get in bed. The pang of loss worsened. He wanted to yell at Jonathan for walking without his leg brace, for walking away from him. Did he not want him? Was that it? He wasn’t good enough to sleep in the same bed as the frightening Scarecrow ?
Why did he care anyway? It’s not like it truly mattered. But Jonathan had tended to his wounds so carefully, he sat there and took his leg off for him! And now he was going to go lay on that bed so far away, knowing damn well that Edward couldn’t reach him without his prosthetic back on. It was disrespectful! He should shoot him for it!
Edward gripped the bed sheets and squeezed his eyes shut. He took a deep breath; In, out. In, out. He took that deep breath in and shame followed it. He was overreacting. Of course Jonathan left him here to sleep alone, he’d rather leave his best friend to rot than spend too much time with anyone . It’s just… He thought he was different . That was his fault, not Jonathan’s. He exhaled. He’s a fool.
He unhanded the sheets, leaned down, and took off his shoe. He laid down with a heavy sigh, yearning for Jonathan to be at his side.
“Sigh any heavier and the next breath you take in will be filled with fear toxin.”
Edward scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What’s wrong with ya?” He was surprised Jonathan cared. “Nothing.” He lied, placing his hand under his pillow while he shifted in his spot, trying to get more comfortable.
“Bullshit, you’re lyin’.”
He hated this physiatrist so much sometimes. He heard rustling across from him, “What? What’d i do now that’s got your panties in a twist?” Edward gripped his pillow, staying quiet. “What? Too rough on your wounds? Need me to baby ya more?”
He let go of his pillow and sat up, ignoring the sharp pain that followed getting up too quickly. He turned to Jonathan, “I wanted you to lay with me, you stupid hillbilly!”
Jonathan just stared at him with this unreadable expression. Somehow, Edward felt he was being judged and he regretted speaking up, but couldn’t stop himself now. “You get to take comfort in me taking care of you but i’m left to fend for myself here because you’re allergic to thinking about anyone else’s feelings.” Ironic, considering his line of work.
Jonathan had appreciated Edward taking care of him. He’d never admit it but it made him swoon. He assumed Edward felt the same, it’d been enough to make him know he cared.
He thought of Tetch, he was all about being told he was cared for. For Harley, it was physical touch. For Waylon, it was quality time. He always assumed Edward appreciated receiving gifts the most. Maybe he did but in this moment he wanted Jonathan to hold him, or to hold Jonathan.
It was strange to think about, this whole situation they were in was strange to think about; no one had ever wanted him and only him before. he always convinced himself that Edward wanted something more than him, but after he went through the trouble of getting him to safety, cleaning his wounds, and helping him with his leg brace, he was starting to doubt that.
Slowly, deliberately, Jonathan arose from the bed. He saw Edward’s breath hitch, watched him shift with anxious energy he thinks he’s hiding well. He put all his weight on one leg and trudged the short distance to the other bed. Edward watched all the while, his expression showing the way he was calculating Jonathan’s every move. In some other light it might feel endearing. Here, however, it just annoyed Jonathan to have someone staring so blatantly at his horrendous gait.
He sat down on the empty space on the bed and stared at Edward. “Why didn't you say that sooner, then?”
Edward looked away and scowled. “Yeah, because telling you to stay close is an easy task.” Despite the annoyance Jonathan felt, he knew Edward was right. His reputation preceded him, and while he wanted to be feared, not everyone had to cower in fear, he supposed.
“Next time, say it anyway. I care what you think.” Jonathan ignored Edward’s surprised look entirely, and instead busied himself with lying down and getting comfortable.
Edward lowered himself down onto the bed. He gazed long and hard at Jonathan's scarred face. His eyes were closed. Because he was tired or because he didn’t want to look at Edward, he couldn’t say. Edward hesitated, “... Can i hold you?”
“ Hold me ?”
God, could this be any more awkward? “You can just say no. You don’t have to be an asshole about it-”
“No. No, you can hold me.”
Edward was quiet. “I’m not exactly a teddy bear though. I’m all skin and bones.” He reasoned, rambled, almost. “I might stab ya in the stomach with my elbow, y'know.” He trailed off, went dead silent, when arms wrapped around him.
They pulled him close, held him like he was something delicate. Something to be cared for with a gentle hand. Edward was warm in comparison to him, his presence was… Comforting. Something Jonathan rarely ever felt when someone touched him.
“Who said I can't handle a light stabbing?”
He felt emotional all of the sudden. He didn't know why. That’s what caused him unease. “It’s like a period cramp that gets you out of nowhere.” Jonathan snorted, his mood lightening. “Sure. I’m sure it’d be just like that.”
A faint smile came to Edward's lips. “I'd prefer only bleeding on you from the injuries i’ve acquired from batarangs though.”
Jonathan’s thin arms snaked around Edward’s torso. He held him in a loose hold compared to Edward’s hold on him. He rested his chin atop his head, “I’d prefer that too.”
“Good. That's probably what'll happen.” He heard Jonathan hum in agreement. He closed his eyes and sighed, this time in contentment. Jonathan didn't comment on it this time. They were vastly different, but in this moment in Jonathan's arms, they felt like one.
For once, they knew some form of peace.