PSL 03: tact from me is like blood from a stone

[theansweris]

Riddler takes them out to try and calm Ed down.

Away from the house and temptation and messy emotions, Ed does start to settle again, until he's quieted down and able to function again. Riddler's relieved and lets Ed pick the lock on the framing shop, letting himself in and acquiring what he needs and letting himself back out again with no sign of robbery. It's possible it might take them months to realise it ever happened.

Ed, being the sentimental one, is satisfied with this.

Riddler is not.

He spends a while acquiring his present. It's not as valuable as it could be, but he's satisfied. And that's enough for them to go home and get changed into more casual clothes and settle on the bedclothes with a book. He might sleep. He might not. Either way, he could be quiet until morning.

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[hobblepot]

[Jerking awake to a slight headache and an angry throbbing in his knee is nothing new. But jerking awake to a slight headache and an angry throbbing in his knee late in the morning, warm and curled up at the edge of a sprawling king-sized bed, is a whole other story. Or it seems that way.

Shock comes first, his memory taking longer than it should to catch up as he frowns and slowly blinks his world into focus, taking in his room with its sleek wooden furnishings and antique knickknacks, all the space in between. He rubs the sleep-grit from his eye for a while, his eyelids heavy. But when he looks all around himself a second time, everything is still there, familiar and waiting for him.

Sometime after sitting up to swallow some ibuprofen from his nightstand drawer, he hears a muted bark through the floor and breaks into laughter. Laughs and laughs until he cries, relief wrenching a sob from his throat.

It isn't a long crying jag. But it knocks him flat and keeps him down, deepening the dull ache at his temples. Maybe it wouldn't hurt, lying in bed for just a while longer. Life could wait, for once.]

[theansweris]

Ed starts checking on Oswald at nine.

He knows Oswald prefers to sleep in and after eight months in Blackgate, probably needs the rest now more than ever, so he just looks in, decides he's okay and head away again, only to return within the half hour to check again.

His visits vary between fifteen and thirty minutes, but he always gives a light knock and then opens the door to peek in. "Oswald-? Oh, you're awake." He clutches the door tighter. "I'll be back in a few minutes, don't get up, I'll bring tea up."

[hobblepot]

[The greeting is slow to sink in. He stirs under his blanket and turns his head to squint at him from across the room, Ed's features vaguely emerging from the blob of flesh-toned colour that is his face.]

...how long have you been u-- [He croaks, rubbing his eye again. But Ed is already gone, leaving Oswald with one of the only suggestions ever to come his way that he has gracefully accepted. Moaning, he nuzzles his pillow and settles again, already half-asleep in no time at all.]

[theansweris]

Ed reappears within five minutes, with a tray, a frame he set aside and a smile that was possibly as much nerves as actual happiness. "Tea, toast, Olga's homemade peach jam, butter, real butter, not that margarine poison, and a boiled egg." He knocks the trays legs down to set it over Oswald's lap area.

There's also a small velvet box. In dark green, of course. Inside are three brilliantly cut amethysts, one large, two smaller, ready to be set in whatever jewellery takes Oswald's fancy.

[hobblepot]

[There is so much vying for his attention, from the frame Ed enters with to the best-looking breakfast on a tray he has seen (fuck margarine, indeed) to the mysterious velvet box begging to be opened. His heart gives a little kick.]

That sounds wonderful. And it looks even better. [He takes in the food, pleasantly overwhelmed as he cracks a smile and shakes his head, hands spread.] What can I say? You spoil me.

[Giggling, he looks for his fork, eager to tuck in. But his fingers find their way around the box first. He pauses and glances to Ed, almost seeking permission before prying it open, sucking in his breath.]

Oh my...

[He thumbs the edge of a gemstone, huffing softly.] Absolutely gorgeous. They'll make a fine addition to any ring and a delightful complement to more than a few of my cuff links.

[They're such deep, rich shades of violet - perfect proof that a stone didn't need to be a twenty carat diamond or even a cut of Siberian amethyst to please. He looks up at Ed again after a long moment, now tinglingly awake, his thoughts going to their brief talk of upgrading their relationship to friends with spousal benefits. He supposes that if this were related, though, the box might've been presented a little differently or the stone already set into a ring.

Gingerly closing the box:] ...To what occasion do I owe this very thoughtful gift?

[Better to have Ed explain, not wanting to leave anything to interpretation - or misinterpretation.]

[theansweris]

Ed steps back to watch Oswald open the box, a flicker of a sharp smile appearing. "Well, I had an idea for something I wanted to get for you, and Riddler thought it was terribly sentimental and that nothing says affection like stealing the perfect gemstones. He would've stolen the alexandrite they had, but these had a richer colour and a nicer cut."

Ed went back for the frame and held it up.

It was the same style of frame as the one Oswald had presented him when he joined his mayoral campaign. One certificate declaring Edward Nygma cured. One invalidating the arrest and conviction of Oswald Cobblepot.

Ed gives a nervous, small smile. "That's from me. When we were talking about before, back then, I thought about- Well." He trails off.

[hobblepot]

[It takes him a moment to make the connection, but when he recognizes the style of frame Ed has has chosen, his eye crinkles and he lets out a laugh, grinning.]

It's perfect. [He reassures him.] Just sentimental enough. [Winking for good measure, he adds:] It'll go in the study right next to my desk, as a reminder of the pricelessness not only of freedom but of our friendship.

[He nods to himself, his features softening, growing solemn.] Thank you.

[After some consideration, he carefully sets aside the tray and pockets the velvet box, holding out an arm to invite a hug - nothing more. But with Ed well beyond his reach, he reconsiders, patting the ample space to get him to sit and close the distance that way. If Ed's going to watch him eat, then he might as well not be hovering.]

Please, sit. We're really not hurting for space.

[theansweris]

Ed beams back, thoroughly pleased with himself and coming closer as invited, then pausing. "Oh. Is that okay? I don't want to- I know you talked. About boundaries. And- such."

He looks at the chair tucked away in the corner and then to the bed. "I don't want to overstep."

[hobblepot]

I asked, didn't I?

[He waves him over, insistent.]

It's you I am a little more concerned about. [Faltering, he looks to his lap a moment, idly picking skin around his thumbnail.] I apologize for... assuming you were comfortable with certain displays of affection. It was something my mother would do for me, most often when she was putting me to bed; the last thing I ever meant to do was upset you. [He chews his lip and looks up, meeting his eyes.] I just want you to know that I care for you, and that I am forever grateful for what you have done for me.

[theansweris]

Ed comes to sit down, taking a moment to toe off his shoes and bring his feet up, crossing his ankles neatly.

He likes this position, sitting next to Oswald, where he doesn't have to watch his face. "Affection is, strange to me. I can count the number of people who have kissed me on one hand. It wasn't that that- I was okay with it. It was just a surprise. I just have a lot of internal, hang ups. Triggers? I think that's the word I want. Things that make me shut down and him come out."

He reaches to the side and squeezes Oswald's hand. "He's right. I want this to work. As a relationship."

[hobblepot]

[Oswald doesn't answer right away. His heart swells inside him, bright and full and too big for his chest, and it hurts - but a good hurt. They are who they are, the city's castaways, as kind to each other as they could be effortlessly cruel. But their falling out - and his struggle picking himself back up - has helped him understand that love can be a big and bittersweet and imperfect experience, and that's what makes it real. For them, it's this or nothing, and he'll take it, wanting it no other way.]

Last night, when you withdrew, I thought you weren't... well. [He gives a breathless laugh, swiping at his cheek.] I guess it doesn't matter now, does it?

[Finally, he squeezes back.]

I'm yours. [He says, testing the words. He glances to Ed again, expectant, hopeful. More unguarded than a ruthless king has any a right to look.] And you are mine. ...And now, you are going to help me eat this lovely breakfast before it goes cold. [With a gentle nudge in the ribs:] What do you say?

[theansweris]

Ed pushes his glasses up again. It's on his list to do, he needs new glasses and new clothes, though the latter can wait until his weight had stabilised again.

"I wasn't well. I'm not well. In so many ways. I've lost pounds again, I'm not sleeping, I'm actually on anti-psychotics because they do actually help the outbursts, to a degree, but there's so very much not well about me. Why do you think I always pick totally unsuitable mates or sabotage the hell out of my relationships?" See, for example, Oswald.

He gives a small huff and looks to Oswald finally, managing a smile. "I suppose I could manage some toast."

[hobblepot]

[While he meant his answer in a different way than Ed has taken it, he stays quiet, letting Ed talk.]

I confess, I am not entirely sure how to approach this... [he crisply splits into some toast, supposing Ed is less likely to eat a whole slice in one go] ...much less when I suffer from demons of my own. But I want to help. [A beat.] I want you to be happy. [He adds, wistfully, his brow wrinkling, as though he had really counted on such deep-seated pain being soothed and healed by simple hand holding and a shared meal.]

...Butter? Jam?

[He might as well dress up Ed's toast, if desired, while he has the butter knife in hand.]

[theansweris]

"Jam, thank you." Ed watches Oswald's hands move. "You have lovely hands. I used to watch you do your cufflinks and it was... Hypnotic."

Erotic.

"Shh. I'm not good at happy. Or relationships. I don't want to talk about it now but I didn't have any examples growing up. The best I had was a teacher when I was thirteen who recognised that I needed more mental stimulation than I was getting." That was about the highlight.

"What are your plans for the day?"

[hobblepot]

[He wipes crumbs off the knife and dips it in jam, pausing slightly in the middle of spreading it to flick Ed a look that is surprise and curiosity and pleasure folded into one.]

Oh? I wasn't aware you were looking so closely. [He feels a pang of self-consciousness over his nail-biting and chuckles.] But colour me flattered. More so when I've always thought of yours as graceful and well-wrought - truly the envy of any pianist.

[He hands Ed's toast on a napkin, sucking the sweetness off his fingertips unthinkingly. He halves his egg next, moaning through his nose as he relishes every bite of soft yolk and softer whites and chases it all with a sip of hot tea. Perfect.]

As for plans... besides freshening up, I can't say I've commit to anything in particular. Considering I found myself waking up every half hour or so until about, I don't know, six in the morning? I feel like my skull has made contact with the front bumper of a truck. [Smiling tightly.] Several times.

[He crunches into a piece of buttered toast.]

So I could go back to sleep. Or... we could do something else. I'm open to suggestion, as long as I'm not required to move or to think very hard.

[theansweris]

"And I can cover over an octave." Which could be very important for a pianist.

Ed accepts the piece of toast and nibbles at it. The sweetness settles his stomach a bit, the toast itself will help him in the longer term.

"Well, if you like, you can sleep more, and I can make any arrangements you want for later in the week. Your lawyer will want to speak to you within the next day or two. We can go and visit the GCPD if you like, or maybe run into Gordon on the street... Will you want to see a tailor, barber, actual doctor?"

[hobblepot]

Doctor? [There's a flicker of something approaching fear in his eye. His face scrunches up.] ...I'll pass.

[He finishes off his toast, leaving Ed's remaining piece and some boiled egg for him. Dabbing buttery crumbs off his chin (and not missing any jam this time around,) he's satisfied to watch Ed eat a little.]

I'd much rather book a consultation with one of Gotham's finest oculists, which I was in the process of doing prior to my arrest. I want to look my best for when we pay James Gordon a visit. [He flashes a knife-sharp smirk over the rim of his mug.] A fresh cut and a new suit for a new lease on life.

[theansweris]

"Mm." Ed isn't going to push on the doctor front. He's not a big fan himself. "Then, would you let me check your leg and basic health? I might not have qualifications, but I've been performing medical treatments on myself since I was a child and I have a good grounding in anatomy. It doesn't have to be now, or even today, I'd just like to reassure myself."

Ed looks up at Oswald and shifts to get a better look at his injured side. "Get measurements and I'll make you something. Something good. Something that matches your real eye, such a lovely green." He gives an impish smile. "Or I can steal a gemstone big enough to carve into a replacement eye for special occasions."

[hobblepot]

[He turns his head to keep more of Ed out of his blindspot, his grin quietly folding in on itself as Ed lavishes him with more support and generosity than he has seen from the entire city. He touches a knuckle to the corner of his good eye, a tinge embarrassed at how raw and easily moved to tears he still is on a morning where everything has gone his way. How lucky it is, to have a friend in a true renaissance man.]

While the enthusiasm is appreciated, I think it's best I start small and work my way up.

[He sniffs, his gaze turning inward.]

This check up that you're proposing... [he begins after a while, looking away] ...how long would it take?

[The idea of being looked over by someone he trusted - someone who had proved himself more than capable of nursing him back to health after finding him in the woods, drenched in blood and shock-sweat - is only marginally less uncomfortable than submitting to an actual doctor's poking and prodding.

But he'll take it.]

[theansweris]

"Well, the gemstone offer stands," Ed states, making sure Oswald knows it's open ended. He wants a honking giant emerald for an eye? Riddler will get one. Hell, he wants a diamond? They'll work out how to steal the crown jewels for it.

"The- oh. As long as you can tolerate, basically. I'd like to check your baselines, temperature, pulse, breathing, blood pressure, so I know what's normal and can tell if anything changes or is changed for you. Your leg? I'd like a good fifteen minutes to check the joints and movement and see if it can be improved, but I won't push for anything more than you're comfortable with. If that's just letting me check there's no hidden infections or bone splinters, I'll take it."

He wants to do more. He wants to learn all her can and get Oswald into a minimal amount of pain, where he can walk without ending the day in miserable agony from it, maybe even to the point that the brace would remove the pain of standing. But he knows Oswald probably can't and won't tolerate that long.

[hobblepot]

[He lifts his head in the midst of chewing a ragged edge of a fingernail, attentive. By now he's so used to throwing pills at his pain and pushing through it, determined never to let it slow him to a stop, that he never considered - or hadn't wanted to - that his injuries could be worse than he suspects, with new complications to contend with. The possibility of bone splinters wakes a cold, ugly throbbing inside him. He wonders how Ed would be able to properly tell what's happening without x-rays -- but this is why Ed is the expert.]

I'll think about it. [He says at last, gripped by a sudden urge to pour himself a drink. Or several. Licking his lips, he changes the subject to something more comfortable.] But first, I think I'm gonna get dressed.

[Laying the tray beside him, he continues:]

I must thank you again for the gifts and the room service - couldn't have asked for a more pleasant surprise to wake up to after a notable dearth of them.

[He opens his arms but doesn't lean in.]

Care for a hug?

[theansweris]

"All right." Think about it will be enough for Ed for now. Riddler wants to push, because that's his nature, but Ed doesn't want to scare Oswald or send him into a tantrum rage. Not while they're having a nice breakfast.

he finishes the bit of toast, licking his fingers clean on crumbs while Oswald moves the tray and is surprised by the offer. "I- yes." But then he pauses, not really sure the right way to do this. He knows how he wants to do it. He knows how Riddler wants to do it. "What if I do it wrong?"

Riddler spits something venomous, making Ed wince a little. "I mean, over step, or the like."

[hobblepot]

[Slowly, he lowers his arms to his sides.] After some of the company I have had the misfortunate of sharing? [He makes a face.] Not really seeing it.

[Spreading his hands in a sort of shrug, he presses on.]

It's just a hug, not a test. And for what it's worth, you've gotten much better at them compared to when we started - no contest.

[theansweris]

Ed hesitates and then shifts so he's facing Oswald, leaning in and hugging him slowly. The position leaves him sort of draping into Oswald's chest, head able to fit under Oswald's chin. It's less 'hug' and more 'cuddle to sleep' sort of positioning but it was easiest with how Oswald was propped up.

And Ed is so very, very weary.

[hobblepot]

Oh...

[It's always something of a surprise when Ed's the one to slump into him; he's always heavier than Oswald expects for a man of his build, easily shifting his flimsy balance this time around. Tipping back, he puts a hand out to slow his fall, easing onto his elbow with his other arm still loosely slung around Ed, instinctively holding on while he puzzles over what is happening.]