theansweris | PSL 02: Fresh Air

PSL 02: Fresh Air

It took Ed four days, and most of that seemed to be waiting for approval from one office to go to the next office and get approved further along the line. Then they had to give appropriate notice and argue among themselves until it was agreed that it had to proceed, even with the objections from the DA and the GCPD.

The allowed clothing was restricted, but for the court appearance, Oswald was given some of his own clothes back, even if just his shirt, pants and jacket.

The session was mostly reading a list of the charges Oswald had been convicted of and the lawyer using Ed's neatly produced list to cite off why each of those was unsound and would require, at minimum, re-trial with due consideration to the burden of proof and threshold of prosecution.

It was a long, long session. But it ended with the conclusion that the state could not hold Oswald at this interval and thus

"-Mr Cobblepot, it is the finding of this court that your conviction was unsound and thus, you are free to leave this court. This is not a finding of not guilty, nor an absolution of charges, but a legal determination that the burden of proof has not been met."

There were reporters outside, of course. There were also several men in suits by a limo that was ready and waiting to whisk Oswald and his lawyer off.

From there, it was a drive. Out and to the Van Dahl manor, past the gates to keep out intruders and press and there, waiting on the stoop, was Ed, hands laced and a smile on his face as the car pulled up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Riddler's fury and frustration simmers down as quickly as it flares, listening to Oswald and the knife lowering from his knee. "No! Not me, him. Every stupid decision he made about those women was nothing to do with me- Shut up, Ed, I'm not going to hurt him, that's your specialty!"

The more agitated either of them gets, the worse the schizophrenia aspect of their illness shows and neither of them is really particularly calm right now.

But-

The knife is relinquished to fall to the thick rug and after another moment of hesitation, they slide forward and into the embrace, using the advantage of leaning and being seated to tuck in against Oswald, rather than letting him tuck in against them.

"He knows he's going to kill you. Or you'll leave him. Or die. Or all of that. Shut up, Ed, you're an idiot, I'm fixing your mess again. He's not unwilling. He's a basketcase. There's a difference." All mumbled into Oswald's collarbones before Riddler lifts his head, brushing their cheeks together and trying to steal a light kiss from Oswald's mouth.

[He stares, stricken, his heart still trying to punch its way out of his chest when the knife drops and Ed leans into him. He blinks wet, already circling an arm around him as he pulls himself into Oswald's trembling body. But it's too soon to feel more than a trickle of relief, to relax again - and he's still reeling from the emotional whiplash when Ed's mouth presses to his, jacking a fresh wave of adrenaline through him. He makes a little noise in his throat - a sort of mewling, half-hearted protest - and locks up, too stunned to move or to breathe, to make this something they're doing together rather than something done to him. And then, it's over. A warm tingliness on his lips when he pulls back and searches Ed's face like he's someone else, someone he doesn't recognize.

It takes him a moment to get his voice to work.]

Ed...? [He rasps, cautiously.]

"... still freaking out," Riddler admits after a breath. "Probably knows more about kissing, as well. He doesn't object to this. Us. Anyway, I never got a say about his terrible women, why can't I have this with you even if he is a useless headjob about life?"

Riddler shuffles in, kissing Oswald's lower lip softly, pleadingly. "Anyway, he got a kiss. Why shouldn't I?"

[His hands find their way over his lap, back to clutching his robe in his tightening fingers as slick and pressure and the heat of Ed's breath ghosts his lip. He can feel himself already going weak, falling apart, as pure need, as everything he has ever tamped down and redirected, even forgotten about for years at a time, crashes over him, wave after wave threatening to suck him under and drown him.

He closes his eye, desperately wanting to believe that it's as simple as Riddler's making it out to be. That Ed really doesn't mind and nothing is wrong and everything is as it should be, the way he always wanted it to be. That he can just surrender to the crazy pull of a force so much bigger than himself, bigger than both of them, even if it terrifies him, and wouldn't pay for it.]

I need to know that this -- whatever this is -- is what he wants. I need to hear him say it. [He sneaks in a breath through the tightness in his chest.] Please.

Riddler whines, a low, petulant sound and then rests his head on Oswald's shoulder. "I don't know if I can get him to come out. He shuts down during panic attacks. I've always taken over. When he killed Miss Kringle, he shut down for a good eighteen hours. Gave me total and whole control."

It's not Riddler saying 'No'. But when Ed freaks out, that can be it.

"He knows he's going to kill you. Or you'll leave him and then he'll kill you. He can't cope with that. I don't know if I can get him out."

[He lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a mirthless huff of a laugh, slouching. His heart may be the biggest target on him, but he knows who he is, what he is, and even love can never defang and declaw him. He'll always have his edges, cutting Ed on them too easily, accidentally and willingly.]

No; he won't. Kill me. Because Ed, of all people, should know by now that I don't go down easily. I am not the milquetoast, pathetic shell of a man I was after suffering weeks of Hugo Strange's therapy. [The word twists his lips into a snarl, nearly spat out like a hot piece of food.] A man who even Ed turned away out of sheer embarrassment when he could still count his murders on one hand and have fingers to spare.

[Oswald remembers everything he wishes he couldn't. The leathers straps pulling tight around his neck and wrists and the wired headset sliding over his head, his eyes. Lying there, shaking, his breath coming short and fast through the gag clamped between his teeth, until someone teased the dial of the machine up a notch or five and pain ripped through him for hours or minutes until he broke, his face wet with drool and snot and tears.

He wonders if Ed has been in that chair. If they had tortured him so badly, sometimes, that he pissed himself, too.

He looks up after a minute, solemn and determined. His eye shimmers with emotion.]

...I do know my way around a knife. [His Adam's apple bobs.] And should it ever come to that, I promise him, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will put it through his heart first.

Edited 2019-12-11 06:41 (UTC)

Any normal person would be horrified, frightened, alarmed maybe. But Riddler looks... besotted. Enchanted, enthralled and doting with the declaration of attempted murder should Ed prove weak to some compulsion to kill those he cares for.

"Well, I would've preferred something less fatal, but it'll make Ed feel better." Riddler wriggles up again, pushing his glasses up to look at Oswald. "Can I have just one kiss? You have no idea how sexy you are when you're promising to rain down hellfire and violence."

[Just one feels like a slippery slope.

Sighing, he presses his palms to his eyes and keeps them there a while, unequipped to deal with Ed's persistence when his fingers itch and his nerves hum, his body more on Ed's side than his own.

Of course he won't object if he's losing his mind in the middle of a panic attack, he mumbles to himself, actually barking out a laugh at the compliment he gets. Sexy - there's a novel idea, sitting here stripped of all his finery, still-damp hair lying flat over his skull and his eye raw, cheeks sticky with tears. A Penguin less shaken and vulnerable and a touch more familiar with this sort of attention, these sort of winks and nods and sly, sidelong looks, could've teased Ed without missing a beat, insisting that flattery will get him nowhere. But Oswald only passes a hand over his face and levels Ed a look, feeling like so much of their friendship now hinges on whether or not he's able to dig in his heels while Ed is pulling at him, willing him over the edge with him.]

Right. [Pinching the bridge of his nose. It has been a day.] ...Ed, I haven't even-- [He cuts himself off with a weary shake of his head. He imagines Ed can guess, anyway, that he has only ever kissed his mom.]

Edited 2019-12-11 21:23 (UTC)

"I'm not Ed," Riddler whispers again, hand coming up to brush those silk fine strands away from Oswald's forehead and his fingertips lingering over his skin. "And I've not either. Won't that be a nice thing to share?"

His fingertip moves to drag down Oswald's nose, tapping the tip lightly and smiling at him. "Would it make you feel better if I settled for a kiss like Ed got?"

[He tries to track Ed's hand until he can't and jerks slightly at the playful nose-tap, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. It's obvious they aren't quite talking about the same thing -- and it's little funny that after all the chasing he's done, the scheming and yearning to have Edward Nygma all to himself, something more intimate than the joining of hands and lips never figured into his daydreams.]

Fine. [He's not sure what to do with his hands and tucks them under his arms, jiggling his knee as he thinks things over.] One kiss. Then balance is restored, stars shift back into alignment, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Edited 2019-12-12 03:00 (UTC)

"One, and then if you want to go to bed, you can, neither of us will stop you, but you promise to listen when I tell you we both want more than... we have. With you." Riddler's very insistent on this, because he wants more. And so does Ed, even if the idea sends him into a melt down.

[He chews the inside of his cheek, then finally tips up his chin to meet his eyes almost challengingly, his bouncy leg settling. He could agree to listen, but believing, that would take a little more time. It's strange, intimidating, being desired, being wanted by anyone for more than the favours he can provide; the amazement and the gut-deep, shivery thrill it inspires can only be at odds with the ideas a childhood full of giggling classmates and pointing fingers and bloody noses have bludgeoned into his head. What Ed and Riddler see in him, a tired, bleary-eyed wreck, when they look at him now, is a riddle he thinks he may never be able to crack. But maybe Ed's attraction is not for him to understand, but to accept. To greedily embrace and run with, until Ed changed his mind.

He never much cared for riddles anyway.

His gaze flickers to Ed's mouth, his heart thudding fast in his throat when he works himself up to it and finally leans in to make good on his word. His nose pokes Ed's cheek, lips touching down at the corner of Ed's with a boyish clumsiness. When he adjusts his angle and tries again, their mouths pressing together, it's still with none of the fierceness and sureness with which he stakes his claim on the city. It's too gentle for that, as if it's permission he's seeking, forgiveness.]

Edited 2019-12-12 06:02 (UTC)

Riddler waits.

It's not a natural thing for him, not like with Ed, but he waits until Oswald indicates that this is something he's going to allow and then he tries to tilt into it. It's no less awkward, even with the memory from Ed, it's not the same at all, not being tender and not freaking out Oswald more.

He genuinely does not care that it's not perfect. It's theirs. It's his.

He draws back slowly and looks back to Oswald's eye, to see what his expression is. And not stealing another one immediately.

[It's a rare thing when words fail him, and not for lack of grasping for them. But now is one is those times, his head still whirling while they sit and take measure of each other and while he tries hopelessly to read Ed's silence, to understand what it's saying about him. Maybe this isn't Riddler but Ed now, having clawed his way back to the surface and left to grapple with the aftermath.]

...was it that bad? [He manages, fingers absently fretting his robe.

There's a half-hearted attempt at levity somewhere in there, completely crushed under worries and doubts.]

Edited 2019-12-12 06:57 (UTC)

Riddlers gives a nervous bout of laughter. "I was about to ask the same thing. Or kiss you again. One of those things."

Nervous doesn't suit him. He doesn't like it. "But I'm not. Kissing you again. You said one. At least until you get to speak with Ed, which might not be until tomorrow, because of the meltdown, because he's an idiot." He sighs and ducks his head, eyes closing and removing some of the temptation to ignore it.

[Something shifts inside Oswald and he can breathe again, more deeply than he has in hours. There's some relief in that even while he hives with nervous energy and he aches a gnawing ache, not knowing what to do with himself. Somehow, Riddler honouring his end of the agreement has been less helpful than expected, but he appreciates have one less complication to deal with.]

Perhaps... we should think of pacing ourselves as more a blessing in disguise. I don't know about you, but I'm done with regrets. [Fisting his hands:] I have wanted this -- I have wanted you -- for so long... and I will not let this become one of them. I refuse.

Edited 2019-12-12 08:44 (UTC)

Riddler nearly gets indignant until he stops and thinks about the words, parses them out. "You... think it's better to go slow than risk this, being damaged. Minimise the risk we'll inadvertently hurt one another."

And that makes sense. Ed and Oswald have both been hurt a lot, sometimes by each other's hands.

"I can do that. I know Ed can do that, but I can do it as well."

[He considers Ed a moment before daring to lay a hand over his knee, the way he has done before to help himself up. But a beat passes and then another and Oswald hasn't lifted it away or pushed to stand, holding his gaze steady with an achingly open, honest look on his face that begs Ed, the both of them, not to betray the faith he's placing in them.]

I trust you. More than anyone. [Pausing, he gives it a chance to sink in.] And I can safely say that any opportunity I have ever had to wait for has always been worth it.

[He draws back reluctantly.]

...If I'm being honest, I'm still trying to convince myself that this isn't all a dream.

Riddler's patience is already being strained. He wants to kiss again, to work at it until they have it down perfect.

But Oswald withdraws and Riddler sighs softly, nodding his understanding. "Yes. I understand. I'd worry this was a dream, but I've barely slept since I got out of Arkham." He's been busy. He's been wary. He hasn't been sure Olga wouldn't put him down with that shotgun of hers that she still claims is to keep down rabbits in the non existent garden.

[He sighs, too drained to attempt Mother Hen-ing Ed into bed; he might not like it, but he understands it.]

If you intend on staying up for a while, then at least consider making yourself comfortable and tinkering with your music box somewhere that isn't a desk. Or the floor.

[He pats the cushions between them and rises to his feet, absently tugging his robe tighter across his chest as if he's wearing nothing underneath.]

Can't have Olga tripping over you in the morning.

Edited 2019-12-13 03:00 (UTC)

"I promise to be out of Olga's way. I'll head to the library, do some reading, maybe take some books to bed. No falling asleep on the floor or a desk, I promise."

The music box will take research and a lot of it. He might need to learn how to enamel to pull it off.

"You're heading to bed? Can I tuck you in, give you a kiss goodnight?"

[Canting his head.]

Tempting, I'll admit. [He slots his hands into his pockets, a hint of a wry, weary little smile on his lips.] But that's kind of cheating, isn't it?

[Either way, his will is not so strong that he can step away and turn himself around without giving the offer some thought.]

I think I'd offer to tuck you in, but you're a busy man, obviously. And let's be real - you'd probably jump right out of bed the moment I'm out the door, anyway.

"it's definitely cheating," Riddler agrees. "But we're not really the sort of men to always play by the rules, are we?"

A small shrug follows, with a small smile. "Guilty as charged. Anyway, I need to get Ed settled before we even think about sleep. His anxiety will keep us both up if I don't. And that means some reading, maybe a walk in the grounds." Maybe go and investigate about the place. Though he had an idea about a surprise present for Oswald...

Fair. [He cedes without a shred of guilt, his expression unchanging.] But timing, my friend, is everything.

[There's little left to say that hasn't already been said on showing some restraint. And between the fading shock of kissing and being kissed and zagging violently between emotional extremes, he's worn down and wrung-out, not much talk left in him. It'd be nice if his brain proved as ready to quit on him as his legs are; he's not so confident he'll make it through the night without a single bad dream breaking up his sleep, but a man could hope.]

Good luck with that. [He tosses the answer casually, but means it - and he lingers a while, wetting his lips as he shifts around a little and looks everywhere but at Ed. Whatever Oswald seems to be waiting for isn't there, though, and he nods eventually, wheeling around and limping to the door.] Good night to you both.

Edited 2019-12-13 07:23 (UTC)

Riddler catches Oswald's hand for a last squeeze, but then lets him go. "Good night, Oswald."

He'll pop out for a while, once he's sure Oswald is settled in bed and try and be back before he wakes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

PSL 02: Fresh Air

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

shhh, she's hunting wabbits

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject