Compared to the sharp splash of green that Ed brings to the faded tones of the connected city, Oswald looks a little more blended in. He's still got more colour than most of the surroundings, but his current wardrobe is-- well, it's a work in progress, okay? He's not been around that long!
Ed approaching is quite the sight though and Oswald's breath catches in his throat before he swallows down thickly, relief and excitement at seeing Ed mixing with nervous anxiety of what he is sure will be a futile exercise resulting in pain.
"Thank you for coming," he offers when Ed is close enough, somehow managing to keep his voice level and free from cracks.
He gestures down through the thoroughfare before simply saying "Come with me," and striding off, his own cane clipping lightly on the floor as he walks. He doesn't want to do this in the open, doesn't want Ed or anyone else to see him standing still in the open too long and see the little faultlines in him.
Instead, in relative quiet, he immediately leads them toward a funny little stone clocktower with a warm wooden door.
Whereas Ed lives with and is contracted to a tailor. Just saying.
He holds back the urge to try and hug, or touch at all, and just follows after Oswald, cane in hand but not really being used to walk. Not now that his knee has healed up.
He takes in the clocktower, slightly bemused, but follows nonetheless.
He doesn't apologise for Riddler's behaviour before. He's not in the habit of apologising and Riddler isn't his to apologise for.
There is a lot to talk about and Oswald knows it. The clocktower was actually something he'd been wanting to talk with Ed about in isolation--making good on his promise to move and advance in this space as soon as possible.
Taking a key from his pocket, Oswald unlocks the door and heads down the stone steps with every expectation that Ed will follow him.
"You'll have to excuse the state of everything."
The space at the bottom of the stairs opens up into a wide open area. Maybe it had been a wine cellar at some point or a secret cult hang-out. There are some places with chalk scrawled on the floor and walls, some maps of Duplicity and Insincerity pinned up, a cheap notepad with some scrawling notes, and a box with The Supermarket printed on the side. Beyond that, there's only minimal additional contents--definitely a work in progress.
He turns back to Ed then, the very tip of his tongue rolling against the bottom of his upper set of teeth before he clears his throat and--
Knowing this place: Wine cellar with a secret cult hanging out in it. Frankly. And it still looks a lot like it, but that's not the point.
The point is, this is a promising start. It's quirky, it's unique and it can cater to a clientele that wants novelty and constant change. Coming here will be an event, the journey, the visit, leaving again, "You can make it a little tour, almost. Hire locals as escorts to the place and away again after for group tours. You'll want to rebuild the walls, false facades so you can record and listen in, private areas for negotiations that might be too delicate for Duplicity's vulgar preferences." He runs a finger (encase in dark, dark green leather) along a counter top, rubbing the dust absently. "Work is work. I'm employed at a privately owned lab. I do the work required, I get full access to the lab on my own time so long as any promising recreational compounds go to Sally before personal sale, which I'm not interested in. I've been reverse engineering some of the perfumes they sampled a while ago, things to induce people to talk at length and with total honesty and the like."
Partly opening his mouth to speak, Oswald catches himself and pauses to listen to Ed's initial assessment and watch him move in the area. A little crooked smile wobbles across his lips from the pleasure of seeing just how much Ed gets it already, even without Oswald having to offer the pitch--he already sees the vision here, the goals, the scope of what this dark little space can be transformed into.
"Yes... Yes, it's... definitely got potential to be something quite special, doesn't it? It will have to be in order to entice clientele from Duplicity. Or staff who will be willing to work on four hour rotation shifts alongside local employees. It--"
He lowers his gaze slightly and catches his lower lip between his teeth. He hadn't brought Ed to the club to discuss it in detail just yet. Or even hear the details about work. He's actually very interested in both points, but he sort of feels a bit like a pinball bouncing off two impact points while trying to get to one particular area.
With a sigh, he glances back at Ed once more.
"I would like us speak more about this venture, and hear more about this work you've been doing, but I admit my mind is elsewhere and I find myself somewhat distracted as a result."
Ed has always been able to slip into seeing Oswald's needs and his plan, if motivated to do so. He looks to Oswald, frowning slightly and then shifting on his feet.
He realises almost immediately what this is about. This is about those six months. And he can feel Riddler prickle under his skin, demanding to be let out to handle it, before Ed does something embarrassing, something demeaning.
He leans against the counter and nods slightly. "All right. You're ready to tell me. I won't say anything until you finish."
So, he's being given the stage. Suddenly, that feels quite intimidating, the pressure even higher and greater than before without any interruptions. At least with Vrenille it was a conversation, so while the order was a bit muddled to start with it was broken up and somehow made easier with prompts to clarify along the way. Actually, for a brief moment the fear of undertaking this turns to a flash of anger--it was Vrenille who convinced him to tell Ed now, after all.
But it's not Vrenille's fault, it's Oswald's. And he's no fool--this is a confession that he owes to Ed, not one that will end well. If this is the start of the war again, then at least he can look it in the eye directly this time.
He shifts his weight a little, deciding not to prop himself against anything or sit as he works his tongue into his cheek and looks off to the side, fidgeting as he tries to decide how to begin speaking.
After a bit anxious shuffling, he stills, gives a slow, self-affirming nod, and exhales.
"When... you and I were working together in the mayor's office, you... informed me that you would do anything for me. On that night, hearing those words, I allowed myself to accept something I had been grappling and fighting off for quite some time. That I--" he falters, eyes closing for a moment as he shakes his head, unable to meet Ed's eyes back finding this all comparatively easier to say now than before, mostly because it's been spat back and forth between Oswald and Ed in the time he's from.
"That I was in love with you. And that night, I resolved to tell you as much. It was... not as simple a task as I had hoped, my fear delaying me in telling you. Until I decided to invite you to dinner one night. This would be a few days after your cut-off point. I had asked you to pick us up a bottle of wine for the occasion. And then... you didn't show. Not until morning, at any rate."
He pauses, swallows, gives another exhale which becomes one of his nervous little chuckles.
"I mean, I was beside myself thinking something terrible had happened. It was so unlike you, especially then-- You know, I even called the police and--"
He presses his teeth together, forcing himself back on track.
"Turns out you had met someone. That very evening. A woman named Isabella who bared the most uncanny resemblance to Miss. Kringle. Truly, very uncanny. And it transpired that the two of you had whittled the night away talking. You came to me the next morning to tell me you were in love."
The tip of Oswald's tongue sits between his teeth for a brief moment, eyes still averted, trying to concentrate on speaking and note looking at Ed's reactions before he pursed his lips in a mirthless smile.
"So. I did what I would be inclined to do at the time. Looking back on it now with the gift of experience and hindsight, I may have conducted myself differently. However, I cannot take it back now. I felt she was not right for you. That she would use and hurt you and--" a small grimace flashes across his face, then he sighs and drops his shoulders.
"I was jealous. Unwilling to let someone else have you. Unable to see you happy with anyone else. So, of course, I had her killed."
He pauses to swallow thickly.
"You figured it out, of course. First that it wasn't an accident and that it was me later. Initially you thought it was Butch and... Well. I was a coward. I allowed you to pursue that line of revenge uncorrected. But when you'd gathered all the pieces together, figured out what I'd done... Well."
At this point, he lifts his eyes, though it's a strange and contradictory kind of look--sort of unfocused, like he's both looking at and beyond Ed, seeing something very specific without looking at him.
"We all know what you're capable of. What he is capable of."
A slow blink, then he looks down once more.
"I won't lay out the details of what took place, but it was a brutal, grueling process. One I cannot even fault you for. It's no less than what I would do."
Well. Not entirely true, there are some lines Oswald wouldn't have crossed that Riddler skipped merrily over.
"In any case... This culminated in you taking me out to Gotham Pier, shooting me in the stomach, and tossing me over the edge into the river. It really left quite the impressive scar, if I do say so."
The mirthless smile on his face is stretched thin, a slight tremble has settled in his lips at this point, his voice is a little more strained in places.
"Well. Somehow, I did not die from that. And the convoluted details here can probably best be recounted by simply saying that we went through another round of conflict. And another.
"Anyway. Between Hugo Strange's freaks running around, a secret society trying to unleash a deadly version of the Tetch virus on the city, Gordon making a deal with you to trade me for Tetch--you had him at the time, you see--and then murdering Fish Mooney before--"
He takes a deep breath. Mooney's death still stings even now, no matter how flippant he tries to sound.
The moment of silence is drawn out quite long this time, Oswald's lowered eyes looking sad and tired before he gives a short, resigned huff through his nose and pulls himself together.
"At any rate, what I'm trying to say is it was a rather hectic time in Gotham, but the point that pertains to us is that you and I ended up back on that pier. And then, I had Victor Fries freeze you so I could make you the center piece of my club."
Slapping his arms against his sides, Oswald looks up at last, back as straight as he can make it, ready for the damage to begin.
Ed and Riddler both listen and despite their every instinct to speak, they make each other stay quiet as needed.
It starts... where it has to. With that night, where Riddler told Oswald 'Anything for you' and meant it, the only time he valued someone as much, more, than himself. And Oswald says those words and Ed nearly speaks, leans forward, only to be pulled up short by Riddler, a hiss of a reminder in his ear, that he said he'd listen, no interruptions.
And of course Oswald had her killed. Oswald is jealous and possessive and he probably tried to bully her off first and frankly, Riddler understands why, because Ed's desperate want to be 'normal' that has only started fading here. Ed would've grasped at the idea that he could be normal, love a woman, not want his crime lord boss.
And that would only lead to disaster. Because, as he said, he lied and they worked it out and that was a sore spot. Being betrayed.
When Oswald finishes, they look up and maybe Oswald can see it, one of those recently infrequent moments where he's something like the Edward Nygma he could have been without his formative trauma. "Thank you. For telling me all that. I understand why you were so scared and angry."
He pushes himself up from the counter, smooth but not fast, nothing actually threatening in his slow approach. "Oswald, I'm not that Edward Nygma. I'm not even the man who promised you anything, because all these months here have changed me just as much as those months changed you." If Oswald lets him approach, he does so, reaching to neaten his lapels and smooth his tie.
In spite of straightening himself up as if he's facing down a firing squad, the slight tremor in Oswald's body remains. He's not afraid of Edward Nygma in any shape or form, not scared of violence or death or pain, but--
You will always let your base emotions drive you. Hate. Anger. Fear. Love.
Ed had been right about that and out of everything else it's not the possibility of physical harm or backlash that has Oswald unsettled now, it's what will be done with his emotions. And he does, truly, have a lot of emotions.
As Ed approaches, Oswald's stomach muscles tense, but he doesn't look away, doesn't blink or falter as he takes in deep, shaky breaths through his nose. And when Ed breaks the silence he almost wants to throw his hands up and yell That's all you have to say?! is that it?!
He makes no move to stop Edward in his tracks or cut him off, instead letting him close the space between them in some kind of dumbstruck pause, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open stupidly as Edward straightens him out. Just as he's always done. It brings a strange lump to Oswald's throat and a prickling to his eyes.
Nodding, his gaze dips down.
"No. No, you are quite right. You are not that man, but someone else. Just as I am not the man you knew, but someone else."
It feels like such a pithy remark, like a placeholder as they teeter on a knife edge.
Ed pushes his glasses up his nose and takes a moment to think. There's so much he could say, explain how much he's changed here, that he's stopped being so scared of what he wants, that he's stopped trying to fill some impossible mould that James carved and he never managed to fit into. That he's learned more about what he actually feels, even though he prefers to think than feel still.
He decides on the only thing he can really say.
"I'm going to kiss you now.
"Please don't stab me."
And he dips his head down to try and take a soft kiss from Oswald's mouth.
There were many nightmarish possibilities Oswald had imagined for the outcome of all of this. Some involving bloodshed, many involving yelling, definitely Ed deciding he never wanted to speak to Oswald ever again.
But this? This was an abstract fantasy amount other fantasies he considered far more plausible. The fairy tale dream against all the harsh realities. The one that would never be possible.
Initially, he's not even sure he believes Ed has said that and that his mind isn't playing tricks on him from the stress. Eyes widening slowly and his head lifting with a kind of dumbstruck confusion, Oswald's mind almost doesn't fully connect everything together properly until Ed's lips are brushing his own and then almost any hope of things making sense short out entirely. There's nothing in his mind at all. There's no world, even. This is a strange pocket of fake time and space where this isn't really happening. Edward Nygma is kissing him, but Edward Nygma isn't kissing him. Surely.
Oswald isn't actually responding, but he hasn't pulled a knife and stabbed him either, so Ed's calling this a win for now.
This woman that Oswald killed, that he apparently loved, is nothing more than an abstract to him, a clear piece of a puzzle of Ed's disorders and trauma, a way of sublimating himself into another person's idea of who he should be.
This man, with his murderous temper, calculated viciousness and tremendous capacity for generosity when moved to it, is frightening and everything Ed was never meant to want, but he adores him anyway.
The shock wears off at the point when Ed starts to draw back, like a circuit being broken and turning all the lights off.
There isn't much thought involved here though, just a sense of what he does and doesn't want.
He's wanted Ed for so long. And while he suffered and was punished for what he did with that want, the want itself never went away. He let it cool and harden, yes, but the core was still molten, still burning with something that wouldn't fully die out.
And now, it's just fully ablaze in his chest with the sudden added awareness that Ed is withdrawing.
Oswald doesn't even remember moving his hand to grab the front of Ed's jacket, fingers twisting into the fabric tight and desperate, unwilling to let this slip away again.
"Don't--!"
Ed may have had more time come to terms with what he wants compared to Oswald, but Oswald knows how to feel things and what he wants on a messy instinctive level. What he wants right now is he doesn't want Ed to step away.
He swallows, the fisted hand shaking against Ed's chest with a kind of lingering disbelief. He gives a small, sharp tug then, tilting his head up toward Ed's face, aiming to bring their lips back in contact again as quickly as possible.
Ed doesn't flinch, but he does startle at the snap and grab, not sure what's about the happen. It's Oswald, he's not predictable, even to Ed's calculating mind.
But then Oswald tugs and Ed realises. Oswald is warning him not to stop. He's demanding more.
He dips his head down again, closing in for another kiss. Hopefully a slightly less stilted one.
It's always fair to execute caution around Oswald. Anyone who knows anything about him should know better than to be complacent in his presence, especially when his emotions are concerned. And Ed, even now, knows Oswald better than anyone and has the good sense to know even he doesn't necessarily know what Oswald will do.
There's a deep-seated sense of relief that arrives for Oswald when Ed returns to him, leaning in to meet him in closing the gap, connecting up that circuit once more, lighting everything up once more.
Both his hands grasp in the front of Ed's jacket now, like he's trying to make sure he won't just slip away again or afraid he's only grasping at some kind of dream.
But this time, yes, he is more in the moment even if his head spins from disbelief. While he still lacks a particular kind of practiced finesse, Oswald certainly has more sense of his way around a kiss now than he had a couple of days ago, which comes in handy as his lips brush Ed's fully and with absolutely no ambiguity now about what he feels in relation to all this. There's almost a level where this entire unbelievable experience is sort of overwhelming.
Ed doesn't try to stop Oswald from hanging onto him, hands tight and up on his toes in a way that can't be good for his leg but for the moment, seems a small price.
His own experience with kissing is somewhat... vaster since arriving here. But he just brings a hand up to rest on Oswald's shoulder, on the juncture of his neck, and he kisses him back softly, a teasing brush then pressing their lips together.
The whole landscape feels so vastly changed now, like everything has been flipped.
It wasn't like Oswald took Ed's casual and fleeting touches for granted before, but the brush of his fingers against Oswald's neck at that moment takes it to a while other level. It sort of zaps any stubborn fronted energy Oswald has been holding onto and feels like he's being giving some kind of lifeline he's been pretending he hasn't needed or wanted. And now Ed provides it, even in that small way, Oswald wonders how he made it so far without it.
The small shaky exhale he gives against Ed's mouth is warm and jittery, right on the edge of some kind of faint, desperate little sob that isn't quite fully formed as his hands tug toward him to try and bring more of Ed closer to him still.
"...tell me this is real," he whispers in a faintly creaking voice without putting space between their lips, "Lie, if you must, but--"
Ed finally wraps his arms around Oswald and pulls him in tight and close, holding him in a firm embrace. "Shh, I've got you. It's real." He presses a kiss to the top of Oswald's head and rubs his back with brisk strokes.
Before here, Ed couldn't have done this. Wouldn't have known how to hold someone else for comfort, for intimacy.
The fierce independence that Oswald has forged for himself over his life out of necessity was put into question when he truly got to meet and know Edward Nygma. He'd thought he wouldn't be tempted in that way again. Or maybe just that he'd never be in a positionto consider it again.
But as Ed's arms coil around him like that, speaks words of assurance that Oswald has probably only heard a handful of times in his entire life, it pulls a breathy, awed little half-chuckle, half-sob from his throat as his own arms move with urgency to encircle Ed's middle, squeezing tight and barely shy of uncomfortable most likely, his face pressing firmly against the crook of Ed's beck, drinking in the feel and the scent of him. Words all feel a bit trite right now, but they will surely be back in abundance soon enough.
Ed's hand slides to cup the back of Oswald's neck, thumb rubbing the short hair at the nape and cheek coming down to rest on the top of his head.
Usually, he has words for everything, but he doesn't feel a need for them right now. He's under no illusions; things are not fixed, nor necessarily going to be fine from here on in. Oswald is still prickly and violent. Ed is still- Ed.
He squeezes and relaxes, letting Oswald's weight sink against him.
There's a long road yet ahead, there's no mistake of that. One that likely has all kind of twists and turns and challenging forks, but in the strangest turns of events Oswald finding the possibility of his and Ed's roads realigning once more the most incredible gift. One he most certainly doesn't deserve, but it's precisely because of that he could never take it for granted. Whatever it is. Hell, Ed could tell him that the two short kisses and this embrace was all that was available and, even if it would feel like dying, it's more than Oswald could have ever dreamt of.
But he does let his weight rest against Ed in a way he would normally refuse to do. It's just for a moment, just for this moment, and while it takes place it probably renders Oswald more into the small man he was often seen to be, that time before he tore a hole out of Gotham's underbelly and inserted himself into it still bloody and snarling. He doesn't need to do that right now with Ed.
After a long moment of still, appreciative silence, Oswald takes a long, deep breath and seems to reinflate himself. His hands move slowly, cautiously across Ed's back to his front, resting flat against his chest as he nods slowly to himself, in preparation to try and find his voice. He clears his throat for good measure.
"I am not the man you knew," he echoes his earlier sentiment, his voice this little both a little firmer in places and little more emotive in others, "And you are not the man I knew. However--"
His hands push up slowly, flatter momentarily around Ed's collar, then continue upward slightly further so his palms gently cup either side of the other man's neck as he lifts his head to look at Ed directly again. Oswald looks a little stunned and shaken still, like he's caught somewhere between bursting into some kind of jubilant dance and crumpling to his knees as a sobbing wreck. He swallows thickly, manages a trembling smile, and stares up into Ed's face with a watery kind of look from not-yet-falling tears.
"--I would like us to change that here. Truly I would. If you... would like the same."
For a moment, Oswald lets Ed support him in some fashion. Ed understands how rare a gift it is.
When Oswald gazes up at him, he can't stop his thumb reaching to brush away the unshed tears, some part of him so quietly marvelling at the ease with which Oswald not only feels, but expresses those feelings with his whole body. "I'd like that," he agrees softly. "A lot. And in a lot of ways."
In the world they know, emotional men aren't often referred to as such. Anger isn't considered emotional if it comes from men, but men who cry and wear other kinds of emotions on their sleeves run the risk of being considered weak, or more derogatory things. So emotion had to become Oswald's calling card, he had to be seen as over emotional, prone to violence if displeased, blind rage, the kind of emotion that is uncomfortable to bare witness to. And certainly not weak.
But these moments he shared with Ed--shares now again--is part of the other side of that. Oswald feels deeply and with restraint only under rare circumstances. The gentleness of Ed's thumb sweeping across the line of Oswald's cheek is almost like asking the tears to fall as Oswald gives out another of his shaky chuckling sobs.
"Then... I'm glad we are in accord."
This is such uncharted territory for him now that everything is out in the open. It's cathartic and terrifying, full of incredible possibility that right now he's not sure how to act on or shape.
He dampens his lips with a brief nervous lick, fingers shifting without real purpose against the back of Ed's neck where they've settled.
"May I..." he begins, then stops, lips pressing together firmly into a nervous line, unable to fully let himself complete the request. If he doesn't specify, there's no risk of it being denied.
Ed waits a moment for the rest of the question, head tilting and eyes blinking in that owlish, curious way of his.
It takes another moment for it to sink in that Oswald isn't elaborating and probably isn't going to without prompting or assistance. Lightning fast, he runs different scenarios, different things he can assume, or ask, or that might be about to happen and he settles on what he thinks is a fairly low risk gamble.
"Yes."
Whatever it is. Ed knows Oswald, even if not this Oswald, and whatever he's going to ask? It's going to be a hard press to find something that Ed wouldn't gladly offer that Oswald might ask for.
"Yes, you may," he clarifies, so that it's perfectly clear.
The agreement surprises Oswald, something that is painted fairly clearly on his face from the lack of will to hide anything in this moment. For a short second he wonders if Ed has somehow become a mindreader and what a blood-chilling thought that is even now. But it's not that, it's just Ed assessing--he's either managed to figure out exactly what it is Oswald is asking, or he's settled on a few very likely possibilities and deemed them all acceptable. Even that thought in the abstract, without letting himself imagine them in a fully-formed way brings a little bit of a colour to Oswald's cheeks.
I know you, he'd told Ed on more than a few occasions, though moments like this one remind Oswald that it's not a one-way street.
What he has in mind in particular is relatively humble in the grander scheme, not even something entirely new. Keeping his hands where they are (probably for fear of not quite knowing where else to put them for now, besides everywhere all at once which isn't physically possible), Oswald attempts to take a steadying breath before leaning up to draw Ed into slow, warm, kiss. It's still a little tentative, like he's afraid it'll disappear, or he'll wake up, or Ed will push him away, but it's an attempt at something more controlled than the last time that was more panicked reaction than anything else.
It's careful, appreciative, and vulnerable, but it's not really what anyone could call chaste by any means. There's still a lot to figure out and stumble through with trial and, though Oswald wants to try this again with what he knows now, wants Ed to know he takes this seriously and something he thinks is precious.
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timeasmymeasure
:> !!
Date: 2020-06-24 09:45 am (UTC)Ed approaching is quite the sight though and Oswald's breath catches in his throat before he swallows down thickly, relief and excitement at seeing Ed mixing with nervous anxiety of what he is sure will be a futile exercise resulting in pain.
"Thank you for coming," he offers when Ed is close enough, somehow managing to keep his voice level and free from cracks.
He gestures down through the thoroughfare before simply saying "Come with me," and striding off, his own cane clipping lightly on the floor as he walks. He doesn't want to do this in the open, doesn't want Ed or anyone else to see him standing still in the open too long and see the little faultlines in him.
Instead, in relative quiet, he immediately leads them toward a funny little stone clocktower with a warm wooden door.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 09:56 am (UTC)He holds back the urge to try and hug, or touch at all, and just follows after Oswald, cane in hand but not really being used to walk. Not now that his knee has healed up.
He takes in the clocktower, slightly bemused, but follows nonetheless.
He doesn't apologise for Riddler's behaviour before. He's not in the habit of apologising and Riddler isn't his to apologise for.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 10:19 am (UTC)There is a lot to talk about and Oswald knows it. The clocktower was actually something he'd been wanting to talk with Ed about in isolation--making good on his promise to move and advance in this space as soon as possible.
Taking a key from his pocket, Oswald unlocks the door and heads down the stone steps with every expectation that Ed will follow him.
"You'll have to excuse the state of everything."
The space at the bottom of the stairs opens up into a wide open area. Maybe it had been a wine cellar at some point or a secret cult hang-out. There are some places with chalk scrawled on the floor and walls, some maps of Duplicity and Insincerity pinned up, a cheap notepad with some scrawling notes, and a box with The Supermarket printed on the side. Beyond that, there's only minimal additional contents--definitely a work in progress.
He turns back to Ed then, the very tip of his tongue rolling against the bottom of his upper set of teeth before he clears his throat and--
"How... was your day at work?"
Yeah, nice Oswald, very strong start.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 10:29 am (UTC)The point is, this is a promising start. It's quirky, it's unique and it can cater to a clientele that wants novelty and constant change. Coming here will be an event, the journey, the visit, leaving again, "You can make it a little tour, almost. Hire locals as escorts to the place and away again after for group tours. You'll want to rebuild the walls, false facades so you can record and listen in, private areas for negotiations that might be too delicate for Duplicity's vulgar preferences." He runs a finger (encase in dark, dark green leather) along a counter top, rubbing the dust absently. "Work is work. I'm employed at a privately owned lab. I do the work required, I get full access to the lab on my own time so long as any promising recreational compounds go to Sally before personal sale, which I'm not interested in. I've been reverse engineering some of the perfumes they sampled a while ago, things to induce people to talk at length and with total honesty and the like."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 11:05 am (UTC)"Yes... Yes, it's... definitely got potential to be something quite special, doesn't it? It will have to be in order to entice clientele from Duplicity. Or staff who will be willing to work on four hour rotation shifts alongside local employees. It--"
He lowers his gaze slightly and catches his lower lip between his teeth. He hadn't brought Ed to the club to discuss it in detail just yet. Or even hear the details about work. He's actually very interested in both points, but he sort of feels a bit like a pinball bouncing off two impact points while trying to get to one particular area.
With a sigh, he glances back at Ed once more.
"I would like us speak more about this venture, and hear more about this work you've been doing, but I admit my mind is elsewhere and I find myself somewhat distracted as a result."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 11:19 am (UTC)He realises almost immediately what this is about. This is about those six months. And he can feel Riddler prickle under his skin, demanding to be let out to handle it, before Ed does something embarrassing, something demeaning.
He leans against the counter and nods slightly. "All right. You're ready to tell me. I won't say anything until you finish."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 12:19 pm (UTC)But it's not Vrenille's fault, it's Oswald's. And he's no fool--this is a confession that he owes to Ed, not one that will end well. If this is the start of the war again, then at least he can look it in the eye directly this time.
He shifts his weight a little, deciding not to prop himself against anything or sit as he works his tongue into his cheek and looks off to the side, fidgeting as he tries to decide how to begin speaking.
After a bit anxious shuffling, he stills, gives a slow, self-affirming nod, and exhales.
"When... you and I were working together in the mayor's office, you... informed me that you would do anything for me. On that night, hearing those words, I allowed myself to accept something I had been grappling and fighting off for quite some time. That I--" he falters, eyes closing for a moment as he shakes his head, unable to meet Ed's eyes back finding this all comparatively easier to say now than before, mostly because it's been spat back and forth between Oswald and Ed in the time he's from.
"That I was in love with you. And that night, I resolved to tell you as much. It was... not as simple a task as I had hoped, my fear delaying me in telling you. Until I decided to invite you to dinner one night. This would be a few days after your cut-off point. I had asked you to pick us up a bottle of wine for the occasion. And then... you didn't show. Not until morning, at any rate."
He pauses, swallows, gives another exhale which becomes one of his nervous little chuckles.
"I mean, I was beside myself thinking something terrible had happened. It was so unlike you, especially then-- You know, I even called the police and--"
He presses his teeth together, forcing himself back on track.
"Turns out you had met someone. That very evening. A woman named Isabella who bared the most uncanny resemblance to Miss. Kringle. Truly, very uncanny. And it transpired that the two of you had whittled the night away talking. You came to me the next morning to tell me you were in love."
The tip of Oswald's tongue sits between his teeth for a brief moment, eyes still averted, trying to concentrate on speaking and note looking at Ed's reactions before he pursed his lips in a mirthless smile.
"So. I did what I would be inclined to do at the time. Looking back on it now with the gift of experience and hindsight, I may have conducted myself differently. However, I cannot take it back now. I felt she was not right for you. That she would use and hurt you and--" a small grimace flashes across his face, then he sighs and drops his shoulders.
"I was jealous. Unwilling to let someone else have you. Unable to see you happy with anyone else. So, of course, I had her killed."
He pauses to swallow thickly.
"You figured it out, of course. First that it wasn't an accident and that it was me later. Initially you thought it was Butch and... Well. I was a coward. I allowed you to pursue that line of revenge uncorrected. But when you'd gathered all the pieces together, figured out what I'd done... Well."
At this point, he lifts his eyes, though it's a strange and contradictory kind of look--sort of unfocused, like he's both looking at and beyond Ed, seeing something very specific without looking at him.
"We all know what you're capable of. What he is capable of."
A slow blink, then he looks down once more.
"I won't lay out the details of what took place, but it was a brutal, grueling process. One I cannot even fault you for. It's no less than what I would do."
Well. Not entirely true, there are some lines Oswald wouldn't have crossed that Riddler skipped merrily over.
"In any case... This culminated in you taking me out to Gotham Pier, shooting me in the stomach, and tossing me over the edge into the river. It really left quite the impressive scar, if I do say so."
The mirthless smile on his face is stretched thin, a slight tremble has settled in his lips at this point, his voice is a little more strained in places.
"Well. Somehow, I did not die from that. And the convoluted details here can probably best be recounted by simply saying that we went through another round of conflict. And another.
"Anyway. Between Hugo Strange's freaks running around, a secret society trying to unleash a deadly version of the Tetch virus on the city, Gordon making a deal with you to trade me for Tetch--you had him at the time, you see--and then murdering Fish Mooney before--"
He takes a deep breath. Mooney's death still stings even now, no matter how flippant he tries to sound.
The moment of silence is drawn out quite long this time, Oswald's lowered eyes looking sad and tired before he gives a short, resigned huff through his nose and pulls himself together.
"At any rate, what I'm trying to say is it was a rather hectic time in Gotham, but the point that pertains to us is that you and I ended up back on that pier. And then, I had Victor Fries freeze you so I could make you the center piece of my club."
Slapping his arms against his sides, Oswald looks up at last, back as straight as he can make it, ready for the damage to begin.
"Well. I think that just about covers it."
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Date: 2020-06-24 12:34 pm (UTC)It starts... where it has to. With that night, where Riddler told Oswald 'Anything for you' and meant it, the only time he valued someone as much, more, than himself. And Oswald says those words and Ed nearly speaks, leans forward, only to be pulled up short by Riddler, a hiss of a reminder in his ear, that he said he'd listen, no interruptions.
And of course Oswald had her killed. Oswald is jealous and possessive and he probably tried to bully her off first and frankly, Riddler understands why, because Ed's desperate want to be 'normal' that has only started fading here. Ed would've grasped at the idea that he could be normal, love a woman, not want his crime lord boss.
And that would only lead to disaster. Because, as he said, he lied and they worked it out and that was a sore spot. Being betrayed.
When Oswald finishes, they look up and maybe Oswald can see it, one of those recently infrequent moments where he's something like the Edward Nygma he could have been without his formative trauma. "Thank you. For telling me all that. I understand why you were so scared and angry."
He pushes himself up from the counter, smooth but not fast, nothing actually threatening in his slow approach. "Oswald, I'm not that Edward Nygma. I'm not even the man who promised you anything, because all these months here have changed me just as much as those months changed you." If Oswald lets him approach, he does so, reaching to neaten his lapels and smooth his tie.
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Date: 2020-06-24 12:49 pm (UTC)You will always let your base emotions drive you. Hate. Anger. Fear. Love.
Ed had been right about that and out of everything else it's not the possibility of physical harm or backlash that has Oswald unsettled now, it's what will be done with his emotions. And he does, truly, have a lot of emotions.
As Ed approaches, Oswald's stomach muscles tense, but he doesn't look away, doesn't blink or falter as he takes in deep, shaky breaths through his nose. And when Ed breaks the silence he almost wants to throw his hands up and yell That's all you have to say?! is that it?!
He makes no move to stop Edward in his tracks or cut him off, instead letting him close the space between them in some kind of dumbstruck pause, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open stupidly as Edward straightens him out. Just as he's always done. It brings a strange lump to Oswald's throat and a prickling to his eyes.
Nodding, his gaze dips down.
"No. No, you are quite right. You are not that man, but someone else. Just as I am not the man you knew, but someone else."
It feels like such a pithy remark, like a placeholder as they teeter on a knife edge.
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Date: 2020-06-24 12:55 pm (UTC)He decides on the only thing he can really say.
"I'm going to kiss you now.
"Please don't stab me."
And he dips his head down to try and take a soft kiss from Oswald's mouth.
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Date: 2020-06-24 01:05 pm (UTC)But this? This was an abstract fantasy amount other fantasies he considered far more plausible. The fairy tale dream against all the harsh realities. The one that would never be possible.
Initially, he's not even sure he believes Ed has said that and that his mind isn't playing tricks on him from the stress. Eyes widening slowly and his head lifting with a kind of dumbstruck confusion, Oswald's mind almost doesn't fully connect everything together properly until Ed's lips are brushing his own and then almost any hope of things making sense short out entirely. There's nothing in his mind at all. There's no world, even. This is a strange pocket of fake time and space where this isn't really happening. Edward Nygma is kissing him, but Edward Nygma isn't kissing him. Surely.
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Date: 2020-06-24 01:16 pm (UTC)Ed breaks the kiss and straightens up.
It's not the worst outcome.
Oswald isn't actually responding, but he hasn't pulled a knife and stabbed him either, so Ed's calling this a win for now.
This woman that Oswald killed, that he apparently loved, is nothing more than an abstract to him, a clear piece of a puzzle of Ed's disorders and trauma, a way of sublimating himself into another person's idea of who he should be.
This man, with his murderous temper, calculated viciousness and tremendous capacity for generosity when moved to it, is frightening and everything Ed was never meant to want, but he adores him anyway.
"Oswald?"
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Date: 2020-06-25 12:48 am (UTC)There isn't much thought involved here though, just a sense of what he does and doesn't want.
He's wanted Ed for so long. And while he suffered and was punished for what he did with that want, the want itself never went away. He let it cool and harden, yes, but the core was still molten, still burning with something that wouldn't fully die out.
And now, it's just fully ablaze in his chest with the sudden added awareness that Ed is withdrawing.
Oswald doesn't even remember moving his hand to grab the front of Ed's jacket, fingers twisting into the fabric tight and desperate, unwilling to let this slip away again.
"Don't--!"
Ed may have had more time come to terms with what he wants compared to Oswald, but Oswald knows how to feel things and what he wants on a messy instinctive level. What he wants right now is he doesn't want Ed to step away.
He swallows, the fisted hand shaking against Ed's chest with a kind of lingering disbelief. He gives a small, sharp tug then, tilting his head up toward Ed's face, aiming to bring their lips back in contact again as quickly as possible.
"Don't."
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Date: 2020-06-25 01:18 am (UTC)But then Oswald tugs and Ed realises. Oswald is warning him not to stop. He's demanding more.
He dips his head down again, closing in for another kiss. Hopefully a slightly less stilted one.
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Date: 2020-06-25 10:09 am (UTC)There's a deep-seated sense of relief that arrives for Oswald when Ed returns to him, leaning in to meet him in closing the gap, connecting up that circuit once more, lighting everything up once more.
Both his hands grasp in the front of Ed's jacket now, like he's trying to make sure he won't just slip away again or afraid he's only grasping at some kind of dream.
But this time, yes, he is more in the moment even if his head spins from disbelief. While he still lacks a particular kind of practiced finesse, Oswald certainly has more sense of his way around a kiss now than he had a couple of days ago, which comes in handy as his lips brush Ed's fully and with absolutely no ambiguity now about what he feels in relation to all this. There's almost a level where this entire unbelievable experience is sort of overwhelming.
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Date: 2020-06-25 10:28 am (UTC)His own experience with kissing is somewhat... vaster since arriving here. But he just brings a hand up to rest on Oswald's shoulder, on the juncture of his neck, and he kisses him back softly, a teasing brush then pressing their lips together.
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Date: 2020-06-25 11:02 am (UTC)It wasn't like Oswald took Ed's casual and fleeting touches for granted before, but the brush of his fingers against Oswald's neck at that moment takes it to a while other level. It sort of zaps any stubborn fronted energy Oswald has been holding onto and feels like he's being giving some kind of lifeline he's been pretending he hasn't needed or wanted. And now Ed provides it, even in that small way, Oswald wonders how he made it so far without it.
The small shaky exhale he gives against Ed's mouth is warm and jittery, right on the edge of some kind of faint, desperate little sob that isn't quite fully formed as his hands tug toward him to try and bring more of Ed closer to him still.
"...tell me this is real," he whispers in a faintly creaking voice without putting space between their lips, "Lie, if you must, but--"
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Date: 2020-06-25 11:22 am (UTC)Before here, Ed couldn't have done this. Wouldn't have known how to hold someone else for comfort, for intimacy.
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Date: 2020-06-25 11:37 am (UTC)But as Ed's arms coil around him like that, speaks words of assurance that Oswald has probably only heard a handful of times in his entire life, it pulls a breathy, awed little half-chuckle, half-sob from his throat as his own arms move with urgency to encircle Ed's middle, squeezing tight and barely shy of uncomfortable most likely, his face pressing firmly against the crook of Ed's beck, drinking in the feel and the scent of him. Words all feel a bit trite right now, but they will surely be back in abundance soon enough.
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Date: 2020-06-25 12:04 pm (UTC)Usually, he has words for everything, but he doesn't feel a need for them right now. He's under no illusions; things are not fixed, nor necessarily going to be fine from here on in. Oswald is still prickly and violent. Ed is still- Ed.
He squeezes and relaxes, letting Oswald's weight sink against him.
It's enough for now.
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Date: 2020-06-28 09:59 am (UTC)But he does let his weight rest against Ed in a way he would normally refuse to do. It's just for a moment, just for this moment, and while it takes place it probably renders Oswald more into the small man he was often seen to be, that time before he tore a hole out of Gotham's underbelly and inserted himself into it still bloody and snarling. He doesn't need to do that right now with Ed.
After a long moment of still, appreciative silence, Oswald takes a long, deep breath and seems to reinflate himself. His hands move slowly, cautiously across Ed's back to his front, resting flat against his chest as he nods slowly to himself, in preparation to try and find his voice. He clears his throat for good measure.
"I am not the man you knew," he echoes his earlier sentiment, his voice this little both a little firmer in places and little more emotive in others, "And you are not the man I knew. However--"
His hands push up slowly, flatter momentarily around Ed's collar, then continue upward slightly further so his palms gently cup either side of the other man's neck as he lifts his head to look at Ed directly again. Oswald looks a little stunned and shaken still, like he's caught somewhere between bursting into some kind of jubilant dance and crumpling to his knees as a sobbing wreck. He swallows thickly, manages a trembling smile, and stares up into Ed's face with a watery kind of look from not-yet-falling tears.
"--I would like us to change that here. Truly I would. If you... would like the same."
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Date: 2020-06-28 10:21 am (UTC)When Oswald gazes up at him, he can't stop his thumb reaching to brush away the unshed tears, some part of him so quietly marvelling at the ease with which Oswald not only feels, but expresses those feelings with his whole body. "I'd like that," he agrees softly. "A lot. And in a lot of ways."
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Date: 2020-06-28 10:54 am (UTC)But these moments he shared with Ed--shares now again--is part of the other side of that. Oswald feels deeply and with restraint only under rare circumstances. The gentleness of Ed's thumb sweeping across the line of Oswald's cheek is almost like asking the tears to fall as Oswald gives out another of his shaky chuckling sobs.
"Then... I'm glad we are in accord."
This is such uncharted territory for him now that everything is out in the open. It's cathartic and terrifying, full of incredible possibility that right now he's not sure how to act on or shape.
He dampens his lips with a brief nervous lick, fingers shifting without real purpose against the back of Ed's neck where they've settled.
"May I..." he begins, then stops, lips pressing together firmly into a nervous line, unable to fully let himself complete the request. If he doesn't specify, there's no risk of it being denied.
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Date: 2020-06-28 11:00 am (UTC)It takes another moment for it to sink in that Oswald isn't elaborating and probably isn't going to without prompting or assistance. Lightning fast, he runs different scenarios, different things he can assume, or ask, or that might be about to happen and he settles on what he thinks is a fairly low risk gamble.
"Yes."
Whatever it is. Ed knows Oswald, even if not this Oswald, and whatever he's going to ask? It's going to be a hard press to find something that Ed wouldn't gladly offer that Oswald might ask for.
"Yes, you may," he clarifies, so that it's perfectly clear.
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Date: 2020-06-28 11:18 am (UTC)I know you, he'd told Ed on more than a few occasions, though moments like this one remind Oswald that it's not a one-way street.
What he has in mind in particular is relatively humble in the grander scheme, not even something entirely new. Keeping his hands where they are (probably for fear of not quite knowing where else to put them for now, besides everywhere all at once which isn't physically possible), Oswald attempts to take a steadying breath before leaning up to draw Ed into slow, warm, kiss. It's still a little tentative, like he's afraid it'll disappear, or he'll wake up, or Ed will push him away, but it's an attempt at something more controlled than the last time that was more panicked reaction than anything else.
It's careful, appreciative, and vulnerable, but it's not really what anyone could call chaste by any means. There's still a lot to figure out and stumble through with trial and, though Oswald wants to try this again with what he knows now, wants Ed to know he takes this seriously and something he thinks is precious.
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