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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[theansweris]

Had Oswald tried to keep touching, it would've been too much, uncomfortably so, but he just rests in against them and they... feel quiet. Feel less like 'us' and more like 'me' for a little while.

He hums softly in agreement, nodding slightly and turning blindly for another kiss. He isn't ready to think about sleep, but the peace and relaxation is nice.

[hobblepot]

[He can't say no to Ed like this or the warm, welcoming softness of his lips, and whether Ed has or hasn't the energy to reciprocate doesn't matter to him. He's simply grateful having someone to share his feelings with, a port in the storm. At last.

He doesn't wait for Ed to offer a place for him in his arms and eventually shifts lower to lean his head into Ed's chest, slinging an arm around him. Ed's heart thumps away against his ear, not sounding any different than it ever has. But he imagines it must feel different, the way his own heart aches with that strange, sweet sort of pain again - a good pain.

He closes his eye.]

...You're a good man, Ed. [He mumbles into his skin.]

[theansweris]

This is something neither of them are familiar with. Or any of them, maybe. Ed brings a hand up to stroke Oswald's hair back and then just rest protectively on his neck, hand warm and heavy with relaxation.

He's not a good man. He never has been. But wants to be good for Oswald. He cuddles him close, eyes closed and listening to the sounds of the manor around them.

"Go to sleep, Oswald. I've got you."

[hobblepot]

[Emotionally, he's buzzing, in a mood to talk and talk until dawn breaks and the first weak, pale shaft of light finds the gap in the curtains. But his body is loose and heavy, the rise and fall of his side already slowing, deepening. Pawing around for their wrinkled blanket, he finds it and yanks it up over them, as much for modesty as for warmth. It's the last thing he manages to do before letting go, drifting off in the safety of Ed's embrace with a mumble and the odd twitch.]