Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was dark out when Oswald woke.

Blinking groggily, he turned over to glance at the clock that resided on Edward’s nightstand. Squinting slightly at the glare from the too-bright green LEDs, he read the time: one thirty-six AM.

Edward himself happened to be absent from the bed, what he was up for at such ungodly hours of the morning, Oswald didn’t know. He slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position so he could scan the apartment for the sight of his boyfriend. If he studied the dark enough, he could vaguely make out the shadow of his partner. He had moved one of the chairs from the dining table to face the windows that spanned the height of the slanted wall opposite the entrance to the apartment. Edward was sitting far enough back that the almost neon lights that came from outside didn’t quite reach him, but rather illuminated the floor in front of him. He appeared to simply be gazing off into the night sky.

“Ed,” Oswald's voice was slightly croaky with sleep. He quietly cleared his throat before continuing. “what’re you doing up?”

Edward startled slightly at the unexpected sound of Oswald’s voice, having thought the other man was still resting. “I couldn’t sleep.” He answered after a second, still looking into the abyss outside.

Oswald nodded slightly in acknowledgement before realising there was no way for Ed to have noticed the motion in the unlit apartment. Shuffling to the edge of the bed, Oswald stood up, feet making contact with the uncomfortably cold floor. Christ, Edward needed to put a rug down, perhaps if he pestered the man enough, he would. He made his way over to where Ed was seated, leaning on the table for support as he grabbed the other chair so he could sit next to him.

They sat in silence for what felt to Oswald like aeons until Ed finally spoke.

“I used to like looking at the stars when I was younger.”

Oswald gave a noncommittal hum, just managing to stifle a yawn. He didn’t want to interrupt Edward’s train of thought.The man had always seemed hesitant to talk about his past. Honestly, Ed seemed to be a bit reticent in general. Oswald himself tended to be much the same, when possible.

“The town I grew up in was small, you could see every constellation, every asterism in the sky. I would spend hours staring out my bedroom window whenever I couldn’t sleep.”

“You can barely make out the stars in this city.” Oswald responded, trying to encourage Edward to continue verbalising his train of thought.

“Light pollution. It drowns them out. Makes the sky look empty.” Edward turned his head towards Oswald.

“It’s a shame, really. I’m sure you could tell me about all the constellations and all the asterisms, if we could make any of them out.”

Ed chuckled softly in response. “The void of a sky is probably the only dull thing about this city.”

“You’re right about that, I'm sure.” Oswald paused before asking his next question. “Do you want to tell me why you're really up?” He took Ed’s hand in his own in an offer of comfort. He could tell that Gotham’s lack of astronomy was more of a distraction for Edward to think about rather than the reason behind his restlessness.

Ed ran his thumb over the back of Oswald’s hand, something he had started to do as the pair had gotten more comfortable with expressing physical affection towards each other. “I’m just worried, I suppose.” He said after quite a while.

“About?” Oswald questioned.

“You. Your empire. Galavan practically stripped you of your power, and you’ve been in hiding for so long. Rebuilding is going to be a momentous task.” Ed took a deep breath. “A task I'm not entirely sure I’m qualified for.”

It took a hell of a lot for Edward to admit to a perceived inadequacy, even to his boyfriend.

“Edward, you’re the smartest man I've ever met. I’d go as far as to say that you’re over qualified.”

That got a small smile out of Ed.

“If anyone is suited to stand by my side as I reclaim this city, it’s you, my love.” Oswald finished.

Edward shuffled his chair closer to Oswald’s in order to rest his head on the man’s shoulder. “I love you.” he mumbled tiredly.

“And I you.” Oswald kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head. “Ready to get back into bed?”

Ed nodded, getting up and offering his hand to Oswald. Together, they made their way back over to the bed, settling down in each other's arms.

—----------

The precinct was as busy and as crowded as always when Edward arrived at work the next day. If anyone noticed the fact he was later than usual, they didn’t mention it. They probably hadn’t even noticed that he was late at all, he thought disdainfully. Ed made his way down to the lab as quickly as humanly possible, not wanting to be in the company of any of the officers for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

He unlocked the lab and opened the door, stepping inside. He just had to finish off his paperwork for the Fries case and then he was free to work on whatever else was thrown his way. At least he could work down here instead of at his desk. It was always quieter in the lab.

Sitting on a stool that stood at the side of the metal table, he started to flick through the sheets of paper in front of him, pausing briefly to sign here and there to state that he hadn’t falsified evidence and whatnot. Honestly, he couldn't care less if he had falsified evidence. It’s not like any of the clowns he worked with would notice anyways, they all seemed to be a few cards short of a full deck, to put it lightly. Jim Gordon, unfortunately, would be an exception (most of the time). As much as Edward hated to admit it, the detective was sharp. Sharp enough, at least, to recognise that Ed’s connection to Oswald could be somewhat of a threat.

Ed scribbled down one last signature before pushing his paperwork to the side, done with it until he needed to hand it in, shaking his head to attempt to clear his thoughts of the Detective. Thinking of the man would only serve to put him in a bad mood.

Ah. Speak of the devil.

Jim slowly pushed open the door to the lab, peeking his head in to see if Ed was there. Once he had confirmed the man's presence, he entered the room fully.

“Ed, hi.”

“Good morning, detective.” Edward was suddenly very invested in his previously discarded paperwork.

“You too. Ed, we need to talk.” Jim approached the place where Ed was sitting and leaned against the table, arms crossed over his chest.

“Can it wait? I really need to get the paperwork done.” Ed still didn’t look up.

“It’s about Penguin.”

“Ah.” Ed finally looked up, pushing his paperwork to the side, yet again. “You wish to know the nature of my relationship with him?”

Jim nodded.

I love him. He loves me. We’re closer than I ever thought I could be to another person. He sees me for who I am and doesn't turn me away. I see him and only devote myself to him more. We are both ingrained in the very being of the other. To separate him and I would be as if you had ripped my heart from my body and duped me in the river. We understand each other. Edward thought. When Oswald held that knife to his throat it was the first time he felt seen by someone. He couldn't tell all that to Jim, though. So what he actually said was:

“I found him bleeding out in the woods and felt uncomfortable with leaving him to die.” It wasn’t technically a lie, he had found Oswald when he was grievously injured, after all. “I felt as if I was morally obligated to help so I brought him back to my apartment and nursed him back to health. He told me he’d changed his ways and I believed him.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing out in the woods?”

Well, they were getting straight to the interrogation, then.

“I was out on a walk.” Ed responded, flexing his left hand. He was aware that he seemed suspicious but most of his habits and mannerisms were deemed suspicious by others for some reason anyway so he figured that Jim would dismiss it.

“On a walk that far out from the city? Bit of a journey, isn’t it?”

“I enjoy the quiet.” Ed said simply.

Jim nodded, though he seemed unsure. After a second he asked: “ Are you still in contact with Oswald now?”

“No, I haven’t seen Mr. Penguin since he left my apartment with you.” Ed stared pointedly, ignoring the jealousy he felt at the thought of Jim and Oswald galavanting around the city after their mutual enemy.

“Good. He’s a bad influence.” Jim met Ed’s eyes, seemingly trying to use the man’s discomfort with eye contact to his advantage.

“Noted. Thank you for your concern, detective.” It was a clear dismissal and for a second, it looked as if Jim was about to keep talking.

“Be careful, Ed.” Jim said, it felt more like a threat than the gentle warning that appeared to have been intended. Ed didn’t bother to dignify him with a response, just watched as Jim walked out.

Crud.

He needed to be careful. The last thing he wanted to do was bring suspicion upon himself. Having Jim Gordon keeping an eye on him would make his and Oswald’s plans more difficult than originally thought. Edward didn’t know just what Jim suspected him of. Was it just of harbouring Oswald? Or had he become suspicious of Kristen Kringle’s sudden departure from the GCPD? Oh dear. Oh dear. Sure, he had figured that Jim would at least be a little suspicious of him, but he had hoped that it would blow over in a few days. Ed took a breath to steady himself. It would be fine. He was genius enough to work against the hindrance that Jim was and Oswald still had a few connections in the underworld that gave him an edge when it came to reclaiming his criminal empire. It would be fine. He just needed a way to distract Jim.

—--------

Jim closed the lab door behind him as he walked out. Nygma was undoubtedly hiding something, and Jim was sure that thing was Penguin. The two of them had seemed too close for comfort when he had seen them together in Ed’s apartment. The only question was, why? Why would Edward want to associate with such a prolific criminal? Sure, maybe he really did find Penguin injured and dying but that didn’t explain why Ed had seemed to actually care about Oswald beyond his so-called moral obligation. Maybe he’d felt lonely after Kristen left and had got attached, Jim didn’t know. Unfortunately, Jim couldn't just go barging into Ed’s apartment to find Oswald without a warrant and, for a warrant, he’d need reasonable cause. He couldn’t prove reasonable cause without incriminating himself.

Damn it.

----------

Oswald hung up and slammed his phone down onto the table, slumping back down into the chair he hadn’t even realised he’d vacated. God, being a mob boss could be so incredibly frustrating sometimes. A small heist, that’s all it had been, and the guys on his payroll had still managed to fuck it up. If he wasn’t running dangerously low on men, he’d have them all killed. Might even dispatch some of them himself, work the rage out of his system, but alas. At least the fools had managed to grab some cash before tripping the alarm.

Taking a breath, he picked his phone back up and flipped it back open. He had a text from Ed.

Ed: Jim asked me if I knew where you were.

Shit. Oswald quickly typed out his response.

Oswald: What did you say?

Edward’s reply came surprisingly fast.

Ed: Told him I had no idea, obviously.
Ed: Not convinced he bought it, though.

Damn Jim and his infuriating inability to leave things alone, Oswald thought.

Oswald: Is there any way for you to throw him off, perhaps?

Ed: I could play up the niceness, try to lure him into a false sense of security?

Oswald wasn’t entirely swayed by Ed’s plan, considering how he’d been treated when he'd been genuinely nice, but it was the only idea they currently had. Besides, they could definitely come up with something later.

Oswald: Yes, that’s good for now. We’ll devise something better tonight.

Ed: Righto.

Oswald snapped his phone shut, figuring it wouldn’t look good for Edward to get caught texting during work hours, let alone get caught texting him. He stood up and fixed his suit. Gabe would soon be here to drop off what little money his goons had managed to grab. He hoped Jim hadn’t had the sense (or the time) to stake out Ed’s apartment.

------------

It was almost time for Edward to pack up and leave. Technically, he could’ve left about forty-five minutes ago but he usually stayed late and he didn’t need Jim to be any more suspicious of him. Though, to be fair, Jim himself had already left so it was probably safe for him to head out. He grabbed his bag and made his way out of the lab and headed towards the exit. The precinct was mostly empty, save for a few stray officers who definitely weren't working overtime voluntarily. Cops. He sneered to himself as he hastily passed by them.

He walked out onto the pavement, making his way to his car. Unlocking it, he dumped his bag on the passenger seat. He double checked he had his phone - he had - before starting the car.

He spent most of the drive home zoned out, brainstorming ways to divert Jim’s attention. Some sort of distraction would be ideal, but if it went wrong he’d be under even more scrutiny than before. He could try and lead clues that lead to a dead end? Yes, that could work…

Before he knew it, he was at his apartment building. He parked up and got out. A quick glance around told him that he hadn’t been followed. Good. He made his way inside and up to his apartment.

---------

The sound of the metal door sliding open made Oswald jump, though he immediately relaxed upon realising who had opened it.

“Hey, Oswald.” Edward greeted as he placed his bag down by the door.

“Hey yourself.” Oswald smiled back, making his way over to his boyfriend for a kiss.

Ed met him halfway, hands coming to rest on Oswald’s hips. They both pulled away after a second.

“Shall I make a start on dinner?”

----------

Dinner, as per usual, was delicious. Baked salmon had always been one of Oswald’s favourites but Edward managed to make it just that bit more enjoyable.

“So, Ed, darling.” Oswald placed his wine glass down. “Had any more ideas of how to throw our dear friend Jim off of our trail?”

Edward took a swallow of his own drink before responding. “Mhm.” He put his glass down before continuing. “I think we need to distract him, take his attention and place it on something big enough that he’ll forget all about us.”

“Oh?” Oswald had been thinking along similar lines, but he was interested to hear exactly what Ed had been thinking.

Edward nodded. “I could perhaps steal something, maybe a painting, and leave a clue. Then another. Then another. We could lead him on a wild goose chase.” He grinned.

Oswald sat there for a second. In theory, It was a good plan, But in practice… He wasn’t particularly a fan of his boyfriend putting himself at risk like that.

Ed seemed to know what he was thinking. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that he doesn't suspect a thing. I’ll make sure my actions are untraceable. I’ll act when I know he’s at work. He can’t watch me all the time.”

Oswald nodded hesitantly. He didn’t have anything to counter Ed’s idea with and it would be easier to operate if he knew Ed had him covered.

“Okay, do it.”

Chapter Text

Planning a museum heist was not normally how Edward spent his weekends, but he was always open to trying new things. Especially with his boyfriend.

Oswald had insisted on helping, having had more experience with pulling off robberies than his partner, though he was still markedly unsure about the whole thing. He didn’t like how much of a risk it posed to Ed but the man had seemed so genuinely enthusiastic about it that he agreed to go along with it (That, and the fact he knew none of his brainless henchmen would be able to pull off then robbery without a step-by-step guide and even then, he had his doubts.). The only other thing they could really do would be to either kill or frame Jim and Oswald wasn’t particularly a big fan of either of those two options. Who was he supposed to delight in irritating if Jim was out of the picture fully? Deep down, he knew he still felt as if he owed Jim for sparing his life, even if he probably shouldn’t. Ah well, he could address that problem at a later date. Right now, he needed to focus on assisting Ed in his bid to orchestrate an art theft.

“Why that painting in particular?” Oswald asked.

The painting Edward had his eye on was called Mad Grey Dawn. Judging by what it depicted, Oswald figured that Ed had some form of explosive in mind for the next stage of his little treasure hunt.

“Two reasons,” Ed looked up from where he’d been studying a floorplan of the art gallery. “One, It shows an explosion at a train station on Market Street, I was thinking of recreating that.”

Oswald nodded. “And the second reason?”

Ed grinned brightly. “The title of the piece is an anagram of my name.”

“It is?” That was a rather odd coincidence. Oswald was becoming less and less sure of this plan by the second.

“Yep!” Ed looked remarkably proud of himself. It was an endearing look, Oswald had to admit.

“Ed, dear,” Oswald started. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your riddles, it’s just…are you entirely sure that’s a good idea?”

Edward’s face fell. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?” He didn’t sound like he doubted his own idea, just…put out.

“I don’t think it would be wise to leave a clue, no.”

Ed laughed at that. “This barely classifies as a clue. It definitely wouldn’t hold up as evidence if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Oswald felt a stab of annoyance at Ed’s ill-considered dismissal. “Ed, you are practically known for liking puzzles, someone will pick up on it.”

“Please, none of the idiots at the GCPD are smart enough to notice. I could hand in a written confession and they’d still be oblivious.”

“Ed, this is Jim Gordon we’re talking about. He is quite possibly the most vexingly persistent man on this entire planet. Do you really want to risk that?” Oswald was making an effort to refrain from yelling. Getting caught because of a noise complaint would be an embarrassment he would never live down.

Ed’s smirk was impossibly wide. “So? Oswald, I work in forensics. Every piece of evidence that man sees will go through me. Even if he works it out, he won’t be able to do a thing.”

“Never underestimate your opponent, Edward.”

Edward didn’t respond, simply returning to what he had been doing.

Oswald sighed pointedly. Just because he couldn’t change Ed’s mind doesn't mean he had to like it.

---------------

“Lie down, Oswald!” Edward hissed as he hurriedly clambered into the driver’s seat of the car.

“Lie down where?” Oswald scowled, ducked slightly behind the green vehicle so that he couldn’t be seen by any particularly nosy passers by.

“On the back seat, obviously.”

“On the - Ed, how do you expect me to manage that?”

“Do you want to visit your mother’s grave or not? You’re still technically wanted, Oswald, I’m not about to have you spotted.” Ed sighed before continuing in a softer tone. “It’ll only be for about ten minutes, there's a cushion back there for your leg.”

“Oh, fine.” came the harsh response as Oswald forcefully yanked the car door open.

Ed allowed himself a small smile, relieved.

“I hate you.” Oswald grumbled as he manoeuvred himself onto the seat.

“Love you, too.”

Oswald rolled his eyes fondly. Bickering was practically a hobby for the pair of them at this point. Didn’t make lying down on the cramped back seat any easier on his leg, though.

The journey felt years longer than it actually was, probably due to just how damn uncomfortable his position was. Or it could’ve been because of the fact that Edward seemed determined to run over every pothole and speed bump in the city. Either way, Oswald found it to be an incredibly unpleasant experience,

When they finally arrived at the graveyard, Ed took a second to look around. Spotting no other people, he opened the back door to let Oswald out. He held out his hand in an offer of assistance. Oswald swatted it away, getting out by himself, pausing to grab the umbrella that was lying on the floor of the car.

“Shall we?” Ed offered Oswald his arm to link onto once the man was on his feet.

Oswald took it, only then noticing the bouquet of flowers Edward had cradled in his other arm.

“Are those -”

“White lilies. I remember you saying they were her favourite.”

Oswald smiled. “They’re beautiful.”

They navigated their way through the cemetery in comfortable silence, stopping as they approached the grave they were looking for.

Ed unhooked himself from Oswald and handed him the flowers, taking a small step back to give his boyfriend space.

Oswald moved to kneel in front of his mother’s grave, tears welling in his eyes as he set down the lilies by the headstone. He placed his umbrella down beside him.

“Hello mother,” he felt a single tear roll down his cheek. Then another. Then another. “I miss you.”

Edward watched on as Oswald sobbed out his speech to his mother. He wanted to offer some form of comfort but wasn’t entirely sure if it would be appropriate for him to interrupt. Eventually, Oswald stopped talking. Only the sound of his crying remained. Ed took a step forward to place his hand on Oswald’s shoulder. Oswald slowly stood up and all but threw his arms around Ed, who reciprocated the hug immediately. He held Oswald as close as humanly possible, stroking his hair as tears stained the shoulder of his jacket.

Ed wasn’t sure how long they stood like that for but Oswald’s tears gradually started to dry.

“I didn’t know that anyone else would visit her grave.”

The sound of an unidentified voice started the two men, causing them to pull away slightly. Both their hands drifted towards where they concealed their weapons. They didn’t draw them. Yet.

“Neither did I.” Oswald spoke. “Who are you?”

“I’m Elijah Van Dahl. I knew Gertrude many years ago.” the man - Elijah - spoke, holding out his hand.

After a second of hesitation, Oswald shook it. “Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot.”

Elijah nodded, turning to Edward slightly.

“Edward Nygma.” Ed took his turn to shake hands.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Elijah began. “How did you know Gertrude?”

“She was my mother.” Oswald responded.

Elijah’s eyes widened. “My boy, how old are you?”

Oswald looked at him suspiciously but answered nonetheless. “Thirty-one, why?”

Edward seemed to have caught on to what was happening. “Mr. Van Dahl, how long ago did you know Oswald’s mother?”

“About thirty-one years ago.”

Oswald’s gasp was practically audible.

“My boy, how about we have dinner? Tomorrow perhaps? You can bring your - ?” Elijah glanced over at Ed.

“Boyfriend.” Oswald supplied.

“Boyfriend. Yes, he can come too.”

Oswald still looked wary but answered with: “Yes, that would be very agreeable.” His smile was only half put on.

Elijah beamed at him.

After obtaining Elijah’s address and agreeing on a time to meet, Ed and Oswald began to make their way back to the car.

“Do you really think he could be my father?” Oswald inquired.

“I’d say it’s possible.” Ed responded. “There is a visible resemblance.”

“He does look remarkably similar to the man my mother described…though I am incredibly surprised that he did not recognise me as a criminal.”

“Maybe he lives outside of the city?” Ed grabbed the bit of paper with Elijah’s address scrawled on out of his pocket, unfolding it to read. “Yes, this address is nearing the outskirts of Gotham.”

Oswald glanced at the paper. “Still, best to be careful. We don’t know if we can trust him.”

Edward nodded in agreement as they approached the car, opening the back door for Oswald.

“Sorry.” He said apologetically as Oswald resumed his uncomfortable position of being sprawled across the back seat.

Oswald loudly dropped his umbrella onto the car floor as a response.

Ed took his place in front of the steering wheel before returning to their previous conversation. “Besides, if anything goes wrong, you still have Zsasz on the payroll, right?”

“He’s the only decent man left on it.”

------------

“So, lemme get this straight,” Zsasz started, reclining on one of the wooden chairs at Ed’s dining table. “You want me to just…sit in the car while you two go off to meet his old man?” He gestured towards Oswald.

“That would be the jist of it, yes.” Oswald responded. “If things seem to be going south, Ed will send you a signal.”

“Cool.” Zsasz simply said.

“Is he always this…relaxed?” Edward asked, turning to Oswald. He knew Zsasz by reputation only. He had been there when the man had swung by the precinct on the hunt for Jim Gordon, but he’d been down in the lab the entire time. He hadn’t even noticed that something was up until he’d re-entered the main area of the precinct to find it essentially a ghost town.

“Mhm!” Zsasz confirmed cheerfully, cutting off Oswald before he could answer the question himself.

Oswald just glared.

“Right, now that that’s all cleared up, you can go.” Oswald practically shoo’d Zsasz out of the apartment.

“Okay! See you tomorrow, boss. Bye, riddle man!” The assassin waved on his way out.

Edward watched Zsasz pull the door closed before checking his watch. They had gotten back from the graveyard later than expected due to their little run-in, effectively disrupting the day’s schedule. He didn’t actually have anything scheduled to do but he didn’t particularly like for his routines to be interrupted unexpectedly. His watch read eight fifty-four. Damn, they really had been out longer than expected.

Oswald had wandered over to the sofa, sitting down on it with perhaps a little more force than necessary, but hey, the back seat of Edward’s car definitely wasn’t the best thing for his leg.

Ed stayed by the table, sweeping up the floor plans and other bits of paper he’d been looking at earlier. He put them away, hidden in a secret compartment hidden under a false bottom of one of his drawers. Then, he made his way over to sit down next to Oswald.

Ed slowly moved his hand over to cover Oswald’s where it sat next to him. The other man turned his hand palm up so that he could lace his fingers between Ed’s.

“You look tired.” Edward spoke softly.

“I feel tired.” Oswald admitted, shuffling closer to his boyfriend.

Ed rubbed his thumb over the back of Oswald’s hand. “You want something to eat?”

Oswald appeared to think for a long second before nodding. “Please.”

Edward moved to get up to go over to the kitchenette but was stopped by Oswald grabbing ahold of his arm.

“Later, maybe? For now, can you just…”

Ed nodded his head, understanding immediately what Oswald wanted. He moved back into his seat and wrapped his arm around Oswald, pulling the man into his side.

“Tomorrow will go fine, Os. I’m sure of it.”

Chapter Text

Oswald’s clothing options were, unfortunately, rather limited. Ed had grabbed some of his clothes that had been left in his mother’s vacant apartment shortly after he had found Oswald injured in the woods though most of the outfits he put together felt a bit…lacklustre. At least, he assumed they were. There were no mirrors in Ed’s apartment, not even in the bathroom. The one on the medicine cabinet looked like it had been removed, or shattered somehow, judging by the few jagged shards of glass that remained splintered around the screws that were meant to hold it in place. Maybe Edward just hadn’t gotten around to replacing it yet? Oswald didn’t know.

“You look wonderful.” Ed spoke as he approached Oswald, stopping in front of the other man and reaching out to straighten the purple paisley tie that Oswald had finally settled on, taking a second to admire the man before him. Oswald’s eyes were just as breathtaking as always, the colour standing out vibrantly against his pale skin and the constellations of freckles scattered across it.

“As do you, dear.” Oswald smiled, feeling slightly ever so slightly better at Ed’s earnest complement. Edward himself was dressed much the same as usual with his dress shirt, sweater, and tie. His tie, however, was a deep shade of green and when the light hit it just right, Oswald could see the dozens of tiny little embroidered question marks that were dotted across the soft fabric. Oswald didn’t think he could recall ever seeing Ed wear it before. He decided he liked it, it matched well with the dark sweater Ed had picked out.

Ed glanced over at the cuckoo clock that was hung on the wall. “We’ll need to be heading out soon.”

Oswald nodded jerkily. “Wouldn’t want to be late.” He spoke, evidently at least a little bit on edge.

“Zsasz should be arriving soon, then we’ll be good to go.” Ed gave his best reassuring smile, squeezing Oswald’s hand in his own in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

It seemed to work, thankfully, as some of the tension in Oswald’s shoulders seemed to drain away.at the comforting gesture.

Ed ducked his head down for a quick kiss before deciding to fuss with his sweater. Oswald picked a bit of lint off of Ed’s sleeve before taking his turn to kiss his boyfriend.

“Awwww.”

Both men practically jumped apart in surprise at the unexpected sound of Victor Zsasz’s voice.

“Good lord, will you ever learn how to knock?” Oswald placed his hand over his heart. He’d never get used to the way Zsasz could sneak up on him. At least that meant the man was good at his job.

“Nope.” Zsasz responded, popping the ‘p’ with a broad grin. “Are you ready to leave?”

Oswald nodded. “Yes, do you remember the plan?”

“Yep, I wait in the car and if string bean over there texts me I storm in and put a bullet in your dear old dad.”

Ed pulled a face at ‘string bean’. Still, he supposed, he’d been called much worse. Besides, he found that he didn’t actually mind Zsasz all that much anyways. “Well, gentlemen, shall we get a move on?”

“After you.” Oswald gestured towards the door of the apartment.

———————

Oswald groaned internally as he settled himself across the back seat, trying his best to find a position that was at least somewhat comfortable. Zsasz, on the other hand, happily slid into the front passenger seat next to where Ed was already busying himself with starting up the car.

The drive to the Van Dahl manor passed in relative silence, with Oswald being too preoccupied with trying to keep his leg from causing him any more pain than it already was. Ed was nervously tapping his index finger on the steering wheel as he drove, steadily growing more and more apprehensive the closer they got to their destination. Maybe it was because he was nervous to make a good impression on Oswald's father. Maybe it was because he tended to be rather distrustful of fathers in general. He figured that it was likely a toss up between the two.

Zsasz’s silence had perhaps been the most shocking, but the man seemed content to just stare out the window. He’d tried to reach for the buttons that controlled the car’s radio earlier on in the journey but had had his hand slapped away by Ed rather quickly. He had surprisingly not tried again after that.

About halfway through the journey, it suddenly occurred to Ed how suspicious it would seem for him to be spotted with a known hitman. He prayed that Jim Gordon didn’t happen to be in the vicinity. That would be just his luck.

Eventually, the car turned into the drive of the manor.

“Woah.” Zsasz spoke up. Both Ed and Oswald found themselves silently agreeing.

The manor was huge. Oswald was aware from the small bit of research he’d done that the Van Dahl family were rich but holy shit.

Zsasz opened the car door, waiting for Oswald to grab his umbrella off the floor and clamber out before sliding into the back seat previously occupied by Oswald. The three of them agreed that it would make him at least slightly harder to spot if he was back there. They didn’t particularly want to alert Oswald’s father to the literal assassin that was being brought as backup, after all. If Elijah’s intent truly was malicious, they wouldn’t want to alert him to their suspicions, and well, if he was innocent, they didn’t want to frighten the poor man to death.

Ed and Oswald began to make their way up the drive, Zsasz giving them a merry wave through the windscreen of Ed’s car.

“Do you want to knock, or shall I?” Ed turned to Oswald as they reached the door.

“Well, he’s my father.” Oswald answered, taking a second to prepare himself before giving the door three sharp knocks in quick succession.

An unfamiliar looking woman opened the door. “Yes, can I help you?" she all but snapped.

Oswald opened his mouth to reply but before he could get anything out, Elijah appeared beside the woman.

“Oswald! Please, come in.” Elijah smiled widely. The woman next to him quickly fixed her face into the most false grin Oswald had ever seen in his life. He made his way inside and if he bumped into her on his way in, well, that wasn't his fault.

Ed followed close behind his partner, expertly avoiding eye contact. He wasn’t fond of it at the best of times, his inherent distrust for new people definitely didn't help. The distrust of the unfamiliar was something he and Oswald had in common but Oswald tended to respond with aggression, as he did with most things. The way he’d barged his way passed that woman certainly didn’t scream pacifist, at least.

“This is my wife, Grace.” Elijah continued once the door had been closed behind them.

“A pleasure to meet you both.” Grace said, extending her hand. Her smile was so wide that it had to be uncomfortable.

Oswald shook it first, his own smile deceptively sweet and grip so tight it must’ve been bordering on painful. Ed repressed a smirk at that as he moved forward to shake Grace’s hand himself.

The small group soon found themselves in the dining room. The food was already laid out on the table. Oswald noticed how there were six places laid instead of the expected four.

“Will there be others joining us?” He asked, carefully masking his displeasure at the thought of even more company.

“Yes, Grace’s children, Charles and Sasha. I hope that’s okay?” Elijah made his way to his place at the head of the table.

“Of course that's okay.” Oswald replied, repressing a scowl. It was not okay. He wasn’t particularly enthused to meet what would appear to be his step siblings. Especially not if they were anything like their mother. Maybe he was judging too soon and they were all perfectly pleasant people, he doubted it though.

Eventually, everyone was seated, Charles and Sasha showing up so late that it couldn’t even be considered fashionable.

The food was delicious, though not quite as good as Ed’s cooking, Oswald noted privately.

---------

Ed found that the conversation that had been had over dinner to be one of the most dull things he’d ever listened to, so he zoned out. Unfortunately, that did mean that he’d missed most of the conversation between Oswald and his father. Grace and her children had boisterously clattered up to bed upon realising the late hour, leaving just the three of them sitting at the table, plates long since scraped empty (Or, almost empty in Ed’s case, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with the onions).

“Would you boys like to stay the night?” Elijah asked. Damn, how much had Ed missed.

Oswald glanced over at his boyfriend. “No, thank you. We best be heading out.”

Elijah nodded. “You’re both welcome whenever, of course. Are you free at the same time next week?”

Edward nodded, being the only one of the pair who had any idea of when they would be free.

Elijah also nodded. “It’s been wonderful meeting you both.”

“And you.” Ed acknowledged.

“It’s been a pleasure…” Oswald seemed to hesitate for a moment before opening his mouth again. “Father.”

Elijah smiled wide pulling Oswald in for a hug, catching the man of guard.

At last, the father and son pulled apart, Oswald smiling just as brightly as Elijah, though he tried to hide it.

“Goodbye, my son. Edward.” Elijah said as Ed and Oswald made their way to the front door. Oswald turned with a small wave before making his exit behind Edward.

--------

“I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

“Victor, don’t do that!” Oswald scolded, startling for the second time that day as he opened the back door of Edward’s car.

“Do what?” Zsasz asked faux innocently as he jumped out to go sit in the front.

Oswald just glowered at him as Edward stifled a laugh.

“So, your dad’s all good then?” Zsasz craned his head back to look at Oswald.

“Too soon to say, though I reckon we should be more worried about his wife.”

Zsasz pulled one of his guns out of its holder. “Want me to get rid of her?”

“What? No! The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves!” Oswald snapped.

“If you say so, boss.” Zsasz re-holstered his gun.

“Thank you.” Oswald huffed, laying down on the back seat. He prayed that he wouldn’t have to do this every time he had to travel in the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, three times usually signalled a pattern, as Edward would no doubt say.

-------

Oswald felt uncharacteristically subdued as he lay in a bed that was by no means big enough for two people with Edward squished into his side, surprisingly already asleep. Oswald secretly thought the proximity felt rather cozy, along with the rest of Ed’s apartment. Or rather their apartment, he supposed, considering the fact he also lived there. It was strange, in a way. He’d never lived with anyone besides his mother, he’d certainly never slept in the same bed as anyone else. Never really thought he would, if he was honest with himself. His mother had told him that life would only give him one true love. He knew that Elijah had been hers, and that they had been cruelly separated, a fact that had been shared over dinner. He was determined not to lose Edward in the same way. He was under no illusions of what his line of work entailed, however. It put both himself and Ed in danger. That, coupled with Ed’s seeming penchant to leave clues at crime scenes (though it had yet to be seen in action), did put them at a much higher risk than most regular couples.

Oswald wouldn’t mind if it was just him in danger, but, as he stroked his hand through his boyfriend’s hair and closed his own eyes, he knew he wouldn't give up this man for the world.

Chapter Text

As much as he used to endlessly adore his job, Edward was most definitely getting sick and tired of working for the Gotham City Police Department. The cases he worked on just didn’t seem to interest and engage his mind to quite the same level that they had before. Or, maybe it was because there was no one in the precinct he actually liked anymore. Or anyone he could actually bring himself to tolerate for more than five consecutive minutes, for that matter. Looking back, he found it almost sickeningly impossible to imagine how much he used to look up to Jim Gordon. Sure, he could (begrudgingly) admit that that man had the potential to be something great, but sometimes informing him of information for a case felt a bit like talking to a brick wall. He forced himself to recall what Oswald had said to him about underestimating his enemies, or something like that. It wouldn’t do for him to give himself away. Not yet, at least.

As he approached his destination in the main area of the precinct, he caught the sound of Detective Bullock. Lovely. If Jim Gordon was irritating, then his partner was absolutely insufferable.

“- Can’t believe they’re making us go on this stakeout, isn't that what the damn uni’s are for?” Bullock forcefully slammed his coffee mug back onto his desk in an exaggerated gesture.

Jim raised his eyebrow. “It’s just for a day or two, Harv. Besides, we’ve been after these guys for ages.”

Ed decided that Bullock’s ensuing silence would be a good time to interrupt.

“Detectives? I have the toxicology report for th-”

“Thanks, Ed.” Jim said, taking the report out of Ed’s hands before the man could even get his sentence out.

Edward resisted the urge to snatch it back and keep hold of it until he’d finished what he’d been going to say. Instead, he smiled. “No problem.”

He hovered awkwardly for a few moments in case the detectives had questions on the report, as they often did.

“Get lost, Nygma.” Harvey said, having realised that Ed was still lingering.

It seemed he was still pissed about the whole stakeout thing. A bit ridiculous, if you asked Ed, considering stakeouts were part of Bullock’s job. Nevertheless, Ed turned and began to make his way back to the labs. Normally, he’d feel pretty put out, or even mad, at the treatment from the detectives. This time, he just felt excited. He’d finally found an opening to put the fist part of his plan into action! He’d tell Oswald when he got home. He just had to make it through the rest of the day.

----------

Jim watched as Ed retreated back towards the lab, placing the files on his desk behind him.

“Does Nygma seem kinda…off to you?” He turned to say to Harvey once he was absolutely certain that Ed was out of earshot, not wanting to risk alerting the man to his suspicions.

“No more than usual, he’s always been off.” Harvey responded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Why?”

“He’s been acting kinda funny ever since Kristen ran off with Dougherty.”

“Yeah, so? Most people are like that after breakups. It’s normal.” Harvey considered mentioning what Jim was like after the whole Barbra debacle but thought better of it at the last second.

“Most people don’t make friends with criminals afterwards.” Jim pointed out.

Harvey hum’d in agreement before responding. “I mean, this is Gotham.”

“Still, keep an eye on him, will you? If he’s not up to something, he could be in danger.”

“What the hell could Nygma possibly be up to, beyond being on a personal mission to be as unnerving as possible?” Harvey paused to enjoy his drink. “But yeah, sure, if you insist.”

“Thanks, Harv.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wanna grab a bite to eat? I’m practically starving over here.”

Jim smiled, he’d go into more detail on his suspicions later, he was hungry too. “Sure thing.”

---------

Edward practically bounded through the door of the apartment that night, rounding the small corner that blocked the view of the kitchenette.

“Oswald! I-did you cook?” Ed slowed down as he spotted Oswald carrying two bowls over to the table.

Oswald looked up as he placed the bowls down. “No, I had Gabe pick us up a Chinese.”

Ed nodded. Last time Oswald had cooked it couldn’t have been described as edible. Calling it food at all was incredibly generous. Turning to hang up his bag and coat on the stand, he made his way over to the already laid table.

Once they were both comfortably seated with drinks poured, Oswald spoke up again.

“So, Ed, what were you so eager to tell me?”

Ed grinned. “Jim Gordon will be out on a stakeout for the next day or two.”

Oswald smiled back “Oh? And what do you plan on doing while our dear friend is otherwise occupied?” he spoke, feigning innocence.

“Hmmm, I don’t know…perhaps an art heist? Might be good to get out and stretch my legs.” Edward humoured.

Oswald’s gasp was over exaggerated. “What an excellent idea, Mr. Nygma.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Cobblepot.” Edward raised his glass, clinking it with Oswald’s own.

As they ate, Ed was delighted to notice that Oswald had done him the liberty of picking the onions out of his food. He smiled slightly, pleased that Oswald had remembered such a minor detail that he couldn’t have brought up more than once (exactly once, he recalled. Eidetic memory and all that). He couldn’t think of a time somebody else had ever done that for him, it was…nice. Honestly, Edward was still getting used to the concept of someone wanting to be around him, let alone actually like him.

“What’re you thinking about?” Oswald asked, It seemed Ed had been lost in thought longer than he’d originally planned.

“Just you.” Ed spoke, taking a bite out of his meal.

“I’m flattered.” Oswald responded.

“You should be, my thoughts are very valuable, y’know.”

“I’m sure they are, dear.” Oswald finished his glass of wine in one gulp.

“Do you want another glass?” Ed offered, moving to get up.

Oswald nodded. “If you would be so kind.”

“I would.” Ed grabbed the bottle from where Oswald had left it on the countertop.

He refilled Oswald’s glass before topping up his own, placing the bottle down on the table within easy grasp in case of the inevitable chance of either of them wanting more.

Before long, the conversation turned to what would take place the next day. Ed could tell that Oswald still had several reservations about the plan but he appreciated the fact that he was considerate enough not to voice them. At least, not out loud. If Ed could read minds, he had no doubt that he’d be able to hear Oswald’s brain screaming them from at least a mile away. Maybe even two. Oswald had always been rather vocal, after all.

They continued drinking, Ed moving their empty plates into the sink in favour of the art gallery's floor plan. He’d visited it previously, back when he’d first moved to Gotham and, from the looks of it, nothing had changed too severely.

Except for one thing.

That thing (and possibly the most crucial part of his plan.) was a bomb. Edward wasn’t entirely sure why they had decided to put a bomb in an art gallery. An art gallery in Gotham of all places. Honestly, he was surprised that no one had tried to blow it up sooner.

Despite it being a real bomb, the artist, for whatever reason, decided it would be a good idea to have some sort of firework at the end of the stem, the remote for which, Ed had swpied during a quick visit before they’d gone to dinner with Oswald’s father. The bomb seemingly going off without warning would be cause for evacuation, leaving him alone to continue with his plan.

He must’ve been going over his plan for longer than he thought, he realised as he felt a pain of arms wrap around his waist and felt Oswald press his cheek against his back.

“Come to bed, dear. You don’t want to fall asleep in the middle of the heist, do you?”

----------

Ed was surprised that nobody had noticed the can of spray paint concealed in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Perhaps they just didn’t care. He made his way round the gallery fast enough so that he didn’t waste unnecessary time but slow enough that he didn’t draw attention to himself.

Leaning against a wall that was within relatively close proxinity to the bomb, he pulled out a pamphlet he’d snagged at the front desk. He feigned interest in what he was reading, secretly peeping over the top to check how many people were in the area. He wanted a fairly large crowd before he set it off as to maximise the panic it would surely cause.

Feeling almost giddy with anticipation, Ed pulled the remote out of his pocket and pressed the button.

Almost immediately, sparks flared up at the end of the bomb’s stem, causing most people in the vicinity to startle violently, moving away from the exhibit in shock.

It didn’t take long for the security to start hurriedly ushering people towards the exit, emptying the area. Ed pulled up his mask and began to move towards his target.

Darting around the few remaining people and dodging a few paintings, he reached his prize.

Mad Grey Dawn.

Ed reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. The very same one he and Oswald had used to kill Mr. Lenoard. The same one Oswald had held to his throat. He cut the painting out of its frame and rolled it up, exchanging it for his can of green spray paint. He thought the bright green question mark made the wall miles more interesting.

Moving quickly, he enacted the next step of his plan, defacing the two paintings that would serve as a clue for the next stage of Jim’s torment. He was more meticulous with the question marks this time, making sure that the dots of each rested just above the artist's signatures. Honestly, Jim should be grateful that Ed was making it so easy for him. He was practically being given a step-by-step guide, for crying out loud.

Re-pocketing his spray paint and concealing the stolen painting, Edward made his way towards the exit. Market street was pretty close to the art gallery so he shouldn’t have to walk for long.

——————

The Market street station was almost entirely empty, due to the fact it was still within work hours. Ed had called in sick earlier in the day. Captain Barnes had been as much of an asshole about it as he was about everything else. He had a particularly nasty plan for that man when he was finally able to leave his job but he digressed.

Ed made his way over to the small locker he’d decided on, focusing on seeming as causal and non-threatening as possible. swiftly and discreetly, he picked the lock. He hastily placed the bomb inside, carefully rigging it so that the next poor bastard to open it up would trigger the countdown. Ed finished his work by closing the locker and adorning the outside with another spray painted question mark. Ed liked the contrast between the shades of green.

Stepping back to admire a job exceedingly well done, he spotted a crowbar slightly hidden from his viewpoint behind the next set of lockers. Perfect. He grabbed it, manoeuvring it so that it was just slightly to the side of his line of sight. There, all done. He tucked his spraypaint away and headed out. The bakery down the street had a slice of pumpkin pie in the window with his name written all over it.

Chapter Text

Edward was practically ecstatic to get into work the next day. He’d arrived at the precinct even earlier than usual, only to overhear some officers talking about how Detective Gordon wouldn’t be back until after lunch at the very earliest, something abot how taxing stakeouts were, blah, blah, blah.

Damn that aggravating, self-righteous excuse for a man. He found himself thinking, most certainly not for the first time. Trying to conceal the scowl that was trying to make its way onto his face, Ed disappeared down into the lab. At least there he didn’t have to hide his steadily growing impatience.

Ed was later startled out of his work by rather loud voices coming from the main area of the precinct, Ah, Jim was back, then. He waited a minute or two before making his way towards the origin of the voices.

As he approached his destination, he spotted Jim and Bullock dip into the Captain’s office, no doubt about to be clued in on yesterday’s…activities. Usually, it would be a robbery squad case but, because of the involvement of the bomb, it was handed over to homicide, despite the fact the bomb hadn’t even gone off. The case had originally been assigned to Alverez and his partner but some conveniently misplaced papers and few forged signatures had fixed all that no problem.

Soon enough, Jim and Bullock exited out of the office, the latter of which was no doubt complaining if his facial expression was anything to go by.

“Ed!” Jim exclaimed, catching sight of the man, grateful for a convenient way to cut off Bullock’s avid protesting.

“Detective, hello.”

“Me and Harv are heading out the crime scene, the one with the bomb?” Jim waited for Ed to nod in acknowledgement before continuing. “I want you running forensics on this one so I need you on the scene as soon as possible.”

“Righto, I'll see you there.” Ed smiled. He had figured that Jim would want him on this case as an excuse to keep an eye on him. Unfortunately for Jim, the detective was only making things harder for himself.

------------

Edward deliberately took the longer route to the Art gallery, almost like payback at Jim for taking so long to show up (and maybe because both Gordon and Bullock had neglected to offer Ed a ride, despite the fact there was plenty of room for him in the patrol car they’d taken).

The art gallery looked just about the same as he’d left it the previous day, only this time there were cops scattered all throughout the gallery and yellow crime scene tape sporadically attempting to block off the area, leaving a few gaps where exhibits got in the way. Ed ducked his way under the nearest piece of tape as he approached. Spotting Gordon and Bullock over by the missing painting, he made his way over.

“Detectives.” Ed spoke from behind them making his presence known.

“Jesus Ed! What did I say about sneaking up on me, huh?” Bullock startled, turning around.”

“My apologies.” Ed certainly did not sound very apologetic at all.

Bullock simply rolled his eyes, perhaps a little more forcibly than necessary, in response. Ed resisted the urge to roll his own in return.

“So, Ed, first impressions?” Jim spoke up, nodding to the empty frame in front of them.

Both Jim and Bullock stepped to the side as Ed stepped closer. He pretended to study it for a minute before turning to the detectives.

“Judging by the jagged lines on the remainder of the painting, the thief was in a hurry. If you look at the top part of the frame here, there's a little nick, likely from the blade used. It would take quite a bit of force to mark a frame such as this one, leaving me to believe that perhaps the thief was quite vigorously pushing up. They could possibly be quite short.” He’d bent down when cutting out the painting, looking for any way possible to complicate the investigation.

Bullock turned to look at Jim. “Cobblepot?”

Shit. Ed hadn’t considered that that might incriminate Oswald. Stupid, Stupid.

“Nice one, Eddie.” drawled the ever unhelpful voice is his head. He steadfastly ignored it, choosing instead to fidget with a pen he had tucked away in his pocket.

Jim shook his head assuredly and Ed could barely contain his sigh of relief.

“No,” Jim started. “Not his M.O., he wouldn’t deface anything when it would be more profitable to steal and sell them. Besides, he’s supposed to be laying low right now. He wouldn’t jeopardise his position so recklessly like this.”

Harvey nodded in acknowledgement. “Know any other short criminals?”

“None that spring to mind. We can follow up on it later if we get no other leads.” Jim started walking over to the two paintings adorned with question marks, closely followed by Harvey and slightly less closely followed by Ed.

“The question marks are placed directly over the signatures.” Jim stated the obvious.

Harvel leaned in to read one of the plaques next to the paintings. “Marché…” he then moved over to read the next one. “...and Larue.”

After a long pause, Ed figured that he’d put them out of their misery. “Marché is French for market.” he offered.

“And larue means…the street.” Jim realised.

“That painting that was stolen, wasn’t it of an explosion or something down on Market Street?” Harvey's eyes widened a fraction as he spoke.

And the last horse crosses the finish line, Ed thought.

“Right, let's go, Harv.” Jim said and then added, almost like an afterthought. “Thanks, Ed.”

“No problem Now, tally ho chaps, go catch that bad guy.” Ed did not want to be in that train station if things went south. He hoped Jim had good reflexes.

----------

“Wait out here.” Oswald said to Gabe as he pushed himself off of the back seat of the car, pausing only to grab his umbrella.

“Sure thing, boss.” Gabe closed the car door behind Oswald.

“So, what's the plan?” Victor Zsasz jogged to catch up, having just got out of the front of the car.

“The plan, Victor,” Oswald paused just outside the entrance to the warehouse and turned back to look at Zsasz. “Is to go in there and get me my damn territory back.”

It happened to be that there were still some Galavan loyalists in town that refused to stand down and hand Oswald back what was rightfully his. Luckily, it appeared the fools were not smart enough to find a decent hideout.

“Yes, sir.” Zsasz mock-saluted before pausing for a second, “D’you want me to go in first?” he asked.

“No, Zsasz, I want you to wait until I'm bleeding out on the floor before entering.” Oswald glared. “Yes, I want you to go in first!”

“Okay, Okay! Just checking!” Zsasz un-holstered his guns.

“Thank god I don’t pay you to be smart.” Oswald grumbled, drawing his own gun.

“Hey!”

---------

“Who’s there?”

Shit. Oswald mentally cursed at the shout. They’d been spotted. Tucking his gun into the waistband at the back of his pants and covering it over with his suit jacket, he stepped out into the open with his hands up.

“That would be me, I'm afraid.” he announced.

“And me!” Zsasz added cheerfully, emerging just behind Oswald, his own hands raised but with his guns still visible.

The warehouse was inhabited by a group of five, all with their own guns drawn and pointed directly at Oswald and Zsasz. For most people, being outnumbered in this way would mean certain death. Fortunately, The Penguin was not most people.

“Guns down, Zsasz.” Said the same vice from earlier. He was average height, average build, average…well, everything really. Judging from the way he was standing in front of the rest of the group and the fact that he’d done all the talking so far, Oswald assumed he was supposed to be the leader of this little gang.

Zsasz glanced over to Oswald for confirmation. There was very little doubt in Oswald’s mind that Zsasz could shoot them all down faster than they could even turn their safety off. However, Oswald felt as if he should at least try and solve this peacefully. His hopes were not high, but hey, you never know if you never try. He nodded over at Zsasz as a signal to do as the man said.

Zsasz slowly lowered his guns to the ground, keeping his eyes on the group in front of them.

“What’re you doing here, Penguin?” The man asked. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t your territory anymore.”

“I’m here to…negotiate.” Oswald responded. “Perhaps we can come to some type of arrangement? A trade of so-”

“Like hell.'' The man cut in rather rudely, evidently trying to be intimidating but failing so miserably that Oswald almost felt something akin to pity. He didn’t, but still, it could’ve been a very near thing.

Oswald gave a tight lipped smile. “Come now, don’t be like that-”

“I just told ya, Penguin, we’re not interested"

Oswald scowled, clearly displeased by being interrupted twice in the same conversation. “Listen here, friend. The offer of a deal is a formality at best. I simply came here to take back what’s mine. Hand over my territory and we will have no quarrel.”

“Sorry, no can do.” The man cocked his gun.

“Well, that is a shame.” Oswald faux sighed, “Victor, would you kindly?” he gestured towards the group in front of them. Zsasz, who was still crouched on the ground, had been smart enough to leave his guns within arms reach. He swiftly darted forwards and grabbed them, standing up and immediately firing four shots.

The man whipped around in shock as he watched his small group collapse to the ground, all dead. Then his expression turned to fear as he registered Oswald’s presence in his very immediate vicinity.

<“It was nice to meet you Mr- actually, I Don't think I recall your name and, quite frankly, I don’t care to either.” Oswald drew his gun, placing it under the man’s chin as to avoid getting any unnecessary blood spatter on his clothing. “Farewell.”

-----------

Ed watched on from outside as Jim hastily tried to dispose of the bomb in the least deadly - or property damaging - way possible. His attempt was mildly successful, resulting in no deaths, very slight property damage and what would appear to be a severe loss of dignity caused by the force of the blast knocking the detective over.

It was rather exhilarating to watch it unfold, knowing that he was the one that orchestrated it all. To know that it was his doing. It was just an awful shame that he’d never receive the due credit that he deserved for his hard work. No real change there then, he thought rather bitterly. Still, at least he could enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done, even if it happened to be from afar.

The crowbar that he had meticulously planted the day before had been hastily and haphazardly thrown on top of the lockers in Jim’s haste to get to the bomb, the end of the crowbar hanging almost perilously over the edge of the lockers. Ed would swoop in and grab it later during his sweep of the crime scene. It was a rather important component in the next stage of his grand master plan.

He continued to linger for a few moments after all of the commotion had died down and the area had all but cleared out before turning on his heel and making his way back to his car to await the inevitable call from Jim.

Chapter Text

The call comes in sooner than expected, though Ed decides to hang about outside a bit before heading in. He didn't want Jim to know he saw the whole thing go down, after all. Arriving at the scene too quickly might raise a few suspicions. He also figured that showing up late would be considered dubious as well, due to his history of punctuality, so he tried his best to arrive at the least questionable time possible.

Eventually, Ed got out of his car and strode into the station, clipboard and pen in hand. He had two objectives.

One, obtain Officer Pinkney’s signature on a certain mystery form.

Two, be as unhelpful as humanly possible without getting fired from his job for being utterly inept.

His incompetence would all be an act, of corse - an impeccable one at that - but the detectives didn’t need to know that.

Pausing and looking around the station, he spotted Officer Pinkney with a small group of other officers. Perfect. He immediately began to make his way over, glad to see that whoever Pinkney had been talking to had decided that they had better things to do. Not like the man being in the middle of a conversation would’ve stopped Ed but still, it definitely made his job easier.

“Officer Pinkney, can I get your signature on this form?” He asked, holding out his clipboard.

“Sure.” Pinkney responded, taking the pen that Ed was holding out to him, skimming through the sheet before quickly signing his name at the bottom.

“Thanks.” Ed gave the man a smile, swiftly taking back his clipboard and pen that were being held out for him.

Well, that was his first goal over and done with.Looks like it was time to go bother Jim.

After a quick look around, he managed to identify the back of Jim’s head. The man almost seemed to be scouting out the building, most likely for another bomb. A noble, but rather fruitless, endeavour.

“Detective.” Ed said as a way to announce his presence, coming to a stop just behind Jim.

To his credit, Jim didn’t startle at the sudden voice, instead he turned around, taking a small step back to create more distance between the two of them.

“We’ve worked together for over a year, Ed. You can call me Jim.”

“Jim,” Ed corrected himself before continuing. “So, what happened, exactly?” He had a vague idea, of course, but he wanted to hear a first hand account (and, well, if he was mentally taking notes on how he could improve for next time, that was nobody’s business but his own).

“The perp left a bomb in one of the lockers, spraypainted a green question mark on the outside. I had to pry it open with a crowbar. As far as I can see, there’s no ‘clues’ or anything like there was at the last crime scene.”

“I’ll double check that for you, detect- Jim.” Ed amended last second.

“Thanks, Ed.”

“No problem.” Ed watched as Jim wandered over to talk to Bullock.

Ed’s eyes scanned the area to make sure that no one was watching him before making his way over to the lockers. He’d originally suspected that Jim would have flung the crowbar off to the side after using it in his haste to disarm the bomb but, after a quick inspection, it wasn’t on the floor. His next guess was that it would be on top of the lockers. He tilted his head up to look and…

Bingo.

Ed reached up and snatched the crowbar from where it sat above his head. He held it in his gloved hands, smiling to himself. Technically, it was evidence, even if there was no indication that it had been used in the set up of the crime. It would need to be registered and then put in a box to collect dust in the GCPD’s store room. What a shame it wouldn’t be there for very long.

————

Knock, knock, knock.

Oswald let out an exasperated sigh before putting down his book and making his way over to the apartment door, dragging it open. Gabe was at least five minutes late.

“And what time do you call this?” He snapped, very unimpressed.

“Got that information you wanted, Boss.” Gabe said, ignoring the Penguin’s temper and instead holding out a small box containing three manila folders.

Oswald snatched it out of his hands and went to place it down on the table. He heard the slam of the heavy door behind him as he took the lid off of the box, discarding it off to the side in favour of the folders nested inside. Grabbing the first one off of the top of the small pile, he read the label that had been hastily stuck to it.

Van Dahl, Grace

He didn’t hesitate to flip the file open, pushing the box to the side and placing the folder down on the table in its place, scanning each and every page thoroughly as he could as he made his way through it.

The file, for the most part, was so incredibly dull that Oswald almost shuddered at the thought of living a life so devoid of excitement. Practically nothing worthy of note had happened in Grace’s life, the only exception being the sudden and tragic death of her previous husband. Heart failure, apparently. Not really surprising given the man’s age and pre-existing heart condition. Only thing was, the man had reportedly been getting better, exercising, changing his diet and so on. His death came as rather a shock to his doctors, though they supposed that it must’ve just been a rather unfortunate case of bad luck.

Not even three years after the death of her previous husband, she married Elijah Van Dahl, her and her children immediately moving into the manor alongside him.

Well, the miniscule amount of information the file provided was better than nothing, at least. Oswald sighed in irritation yet again as he closed the file and grabbed the other two out of the box, labelled Van Dahl, Charles and Van Dahl, Sasha respectively. Their files were also frustratingly barren.

The lack of incriminating details didn’t make him any less suspicious, in fact, it only made him more distrusting. He felt like he was missing something, though he couldn’t place his finger on what it was. Why they felt off didn’t really matter, he supposed, as long as he kept his guard up. Though he did find himself wondering about his father. So far, there was no reason not to trust him and God did Oswald want to trust him. Besides, Elijah just didn’t seem the malicious type, Oswald would know, after all.

After a while of mulling things over, he figured that for now, it wouldn’t hurt to trust his father. Call him a fool for listening to his emotions but following his heart had worked out for him thus far. He was suddenly looking forward to seeing his father this weekend, even if he did have to put up with his step family.

------------

It was well past his required working hours when Ed quietly slipped back into the GCPD’s evidence storage room, making his way towards where he’d stored the crowbar on his return from the crime scene earlier. He grabbed his gloves out of his pocket and put them on before removing it from the box it resided in. He left as quickly as he had arrived.

Next, he entered the records annex, swiftly pushing any unwanted thoughts of Ms. Kringle to the side, it just wouldn’t do to get distracted. Carefully placing the crowbar down on a filing cabinet as silently as he could as to not alert anyone still in the building to his activities. Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he took out the form he’d had tricked Pinkney into signing earlier. It was an evidence release form for the crowbar. He had to open a few of the drawers in the filing cabinet before finding the right one and placing it right at the front so nobody could possibly look past it. If only his lateral filing system in place, he could’ve wrapped this up quickly and made his way back home to Oswald. He did still have one step of his plan left however, before he could return to his apartment.

—--------

Pinkney lived almost all the way across the city from Ed, much to the man’s dismay. Still, the traffic had mostly calmed down by the time he’d left the precinct so it didn’t take him nearly as long as he had feared it would.

Ed power walked his way up Pinkney’s apartment, the crowbar securely concealed up the sleeve of his overcoat. He was aware that it probably looked a bit unnatural but it wasn’t like Pinkney would be able to say anything about it.

Taking a moment to breathe outside of the officer’s door, Ed knocked.

It took a second before the door was yanked open, revealing the occupant.

“Officer Pinkney, may I come in? It’s about a case.”

Pinkney looked briefly bewildered before stepping back from the door and responding. “Sure, but make it quick, the game’s on.”

Ed nodded, entering the apartment and taking a look around. His own was much nicer. “Detective Gordon is just behind me.”

After a moment of very awkward silence Ed spoke up again.

“Hey Pinkney, what do you call a tavern of blackbirds?” He let the crowbar slide out of his sleeve and into his hand. He repressed the urge to laugh.

“Wha-” Pinkney didn’t even manage to fully turn away from the T.V before he felt the skull shattering impact.

”A crowbar.”

Chapter Text

Ed woke up the next morning feeling very well rested, something rather unusual for him. Oswald was still sleeping peacefully next to him and a quick glance over at his alarm clock told Ed that he had at least fifteen minutes to spare before he needed to get up and get ready for work. He settled back down into the bed, wrapping his arms securely around Oswald and burying his face in his partner’s soft hair, enjoying both the closeness and the comforting weight of the blankets on top of him. He’d been intending to buy an actual weighted blanket for quite a while now but considering how many things have happened in his life recently, he had yet to do so. The regular blankets that he had piled on top of each other sometimes made things a bit stuffy but they served their purpose for the time being.

“G’morning.” Oswald’s muffled voice came from where his face was hidden by his pillow.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” Ed grinned as he felt Oswald grasp his hand where it was resting around Oswald’s middle.

After a few moments of contented silence, Oswald rolled over to face Ed, resting his head on his boyfriend’s chest. “How long until you have to get up?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

Oswald hmm’d in acknowledgement. “I wish you'd just quit already. The GCPD doesn't deserve you.”

Ed smiled. “My resignation will be on the captain’s desk the second we get Jim Gordon off of your tail.”

“We need him off yours too, my friend”

“He has no evidence against me, you, on the other hand…”

“Yes, I am wanted for murder and several other unrelated charges, I’m aware. Can’t I just enjoy a peaceful lie-in with my boyfriend?” Oswald huffed, shuffling in impossibly closer.

“You sure can.” Ed hugged Oswald even tighter. “You can enjoy an even longer one at the weekend.”

“Of course. Will you be joining me to visit my father?”

“If you want me there, I will be.” Ed responded. “Any updates on him, or your step family?”

“As a matter of fact…” Oswald shifted so that he could look at Ed while talking to him. “Gabe dropped off some files yesterday, they were unfortunately rather barren, the only thing mentioned was the death of Grace’s ex-husband.”

“Oh?”

“Heart failure, happened about three years before she married my Father.”

“Huh.” Was all Ed had to say in response.

“Very insightful Ed, thank you.” Oswald rolled his eyes in mock irritation.

Ed smiled fondly in return. “I’ll keep a close eye on her this weekend. You can concern yourself with having a nice time with your father.”

“Thank you.” Oswald responded sincerely, leaning in for a kiss.

“Anything for you.” Ed replied, meeting him halfway.

—------------------------

“Hey Ed, have you seen Pinkney around? He didn’t report to me this morning.” Jim made his way over to the forensic tech. All members of the GCPD’s strike force were required to report to Gordon first thing every day, something Ed far from envied.

Ed turned to look at Jim “Can’t say I have, Detective.'' and he really couldn’t if he wanted to remain a free man. “Maybe he’s off ill.”

“He hasn’t called in.” Jim responded in a tone that suggested that Ed wasn’t the first person he’d asked who had suggested that.

Ed shrugged. “Sorry.” he said, not entirely sure why Jim was still looking at him expectantly. Socialising had never been Ed’s forte.

Eventually, Jim nodded. “Okay, thanks Ed. You’ll let me know if you see him, right?”

“Of course.” Ed sincerely hoped that this city wasn’t cursed enough to the point of reanimating the dead but even then, he wouldn’t tell Jim even if he saw Pinkney’s rotting corpse trailing blood around the precinct. Now that certainly would jeopardise his plans.

Speaking of plans, he hoped Jim felt the need to pay Pinkney a visit at some point.

———

Jim had spent the better part of his morning running around the crowded precinct looking for Pinkney, hell, he even went out to a few active crime scenes to see if he was out at one of those. Pinkney wasn’t the kind of guy to disrupt or deviate from his usual routine, which was why Jim felt especially perturbed by the man’s absence. He could always check the files for Pikney’s address and pay him a visit but that felt slightly invasive. Unfortunately, he didn’t really have any other ideas.

Time for a little road trip, then.

A general sense of foreboding loomed over Jim as he drove over to Pinkney’s apartment, occasionally glancing at the address he’d hastily scribbled on the back of his hand to double check his destination. He didn’t necessarily forget where he was going, it was more of a futile attempt to distract himself from the rising uneasiness currently situated in the pit of his stomach.

Begrudgingly, Jim parked up on the street over from the address, figuring that the short walk over would quell the feeling of dread. It did the exact opposite.

He took the stairs up to the apartment, barely aware of the steadily increasing urgency of each one of his steps.

Jim froze upon reaching the correct floor, taking a second to figure out which door led to Pinkney’s apartment. He reached for the door handle, surprised to find that the door was unlocked. Taking a steadying breath, he pushed it open.

“Pinkney? You in here?”

Jim rounded the corner the sofa created, stopping dead when he saw the floor.

If he were to hazard a guess, Jim would say the mangled pile of flesh and bone currently adorning the carpet would be Pinkney’s skull. Or, well, what remained of Pinkney’s skull that wasn’t splattered across the nearest wall. Jim even thought he caught sight of some of it on the still-playing T.V. He wasn’t entirely sure he was grateful for the illumination the television provided.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Jim wasn’t sure how long it took his brain to fully register what he was seeing. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever would. Eventually, though, he realised this was probably something he should call in.

With a detached sense of numbness that he suspected was shock, Jim pulled out his phone.

The sound of it dialling felt almost deafening.

After what felt like both a second and an agonisingly long hour simultaneously, Captain Barnes picked up.

“Captain? Yeah, hi. I- I've found Pinkney.”

—----------

The sheer amount of people crammed into the tiny space was almost enough to make Ed fell claustrophobic, but, even the presence of his behated coworkers wasn't enough to ruin Ed’s good mood. Everything was going exactly as planned. He spotted Jim rooting around under the sofa and grinned to himself, knowing what the man was about to find.

Jim’s hand closed around something cold and metal, with sort of a tacky, half dried substance covering it that he could feel even through the latex gloves that were mandatory at every crime scene. He pulled it out from under the sofa, eyes widening fractionaly as he processed the fact that he had found the murder weapon. A crowbar.

Ed could barely contain his giggle. God, Jim must be so confused. The second case in as many days involving a crowbar. Jim may have not made the connection yet but Ed suspected that the detective was feeling a hint of deja vu. He watched as Jim studied the crowbar, flipping it over in his hands before noticing the tin question mark scratched onto the surface.

Jim mouthed something that looked awfully close to “Holy shit.”

—----------

“It’s the same guy.”

“Nice to see you too, Jim.” Harvey responded, turning in his chair to look at the other man. He’d stayed back at the precinct while Jim had been out at the crime scene and thus needed to be updated. “So, who did what now?”

“The guy who stole Mad Grey Dawn is the same guy who,” Jim took a breath “Is the same guy who killed Pinkney.”

Harvey nodded, wincing slightly at the mention of their recently deceased co-worker. “And you know this, how, exactly?”

“The crowbar, the one the killer used to-” Jim cut himself off. “It had a question mark scratched on it.”

Harvey’s eyes widened. “Like the one at the train station?”

“And the one at the art gallery, yeah.”

“Fuck.” Harvey stated eloquently.

Jim nodded his head in agreement.

“Have you told Barnes about this?” Harvey asked, struggling for things to say.

“Yeah, he was at the scene.”

The two fell into an uncharacteristically awkward silence then, neither of them entirely sure what to say. After a rather excruciating minute, Jim spoke up again.

“Well, I’m supposed to go register this as evidence.” He half heartedly gestured to the crowbar wrapped in an evidence bag he currently had clutched in his hand. Harvey hadn’t even noticed it.

“Okay, we can grab some food and catch up later.”

Jim smiled slightly. “Sounds good, see you later, Harv.”

“See you, boy scout.” Came Harvey’s voice as Jim walked away.

—--------

“Hey, Ed, can you give me a hand with this?” Jim asked as he walked into the lab.

Ed jumped slightly at the unexpected voice, scowling to himself as he realised who it was.

“Sure, what is it?” He responded as pleasantly as possible, turning away from what he had previously been doing to look at Jim.

“I need to register this crowbar as evidence. Problem is, I've never actually done that before. I figured you’d be pretty familiar with the evidence storage system.”

“That I am, detective.” The silence that followed stretched on a little too long to feel natural.

“So do you wanna lead the way or…?” Jim said, gesturing vaguely towards the door.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Ed made his way out of the lab and towards the storage room.

Why had Jim asked him for help? Surrey he could’ve asked Captain Barnes, or Alvarez, or even that idiot Bullock, but no, he;d came to Ed. Was he suspicious already? Darn it, that wasn’t part of the plan!

Ed’s thoughts spiralled, distracting him as they entered the storage room. He automatically pushed open the door, remembering last second that he should probably hold it open for Jim.

“Okay, so, you just need to fill out a form, date the evidence bag and add the case number and then put it in the corresponding box.” Ed spoke hurriedly, trying not to trip over his words.

Jim looked at him suspiciously. “You alright, Ed?”

“Right as rain.” Ed responded, slightly too quickly for it to sound natural. Damn it.

Jim nodded, still looking at Ed before glancing down at the paperwork he had begun filling out. He swiftly finished it and scrawled the case number onto the evidence bag, having already dated it at the crime scene. He capped his pen and placed it to the side.

“So, this box here, right?” Jim gestured to what he guessed was the correct box, the date written on the boc being the most recent out of all the ones he saw.

“Yep, that’s got everything from the last month or so in it.”

Jim nodded, opening in the box to place the crowbar in. He looked at the contents for a second before looking back up at Ed.

“Ed, there’s supposed to be another crowbar in here.”

Chapter Text

Ed stumbled over to look into the offending drawer. It was going to be ok, he could salvage this. The only deviation from his plan so far had been Jim asking him for help. It was fine. “So there is.”

Jim hesitantly places the crowbar in the drawer. “I’m sure it’ll turn up. You do seem very…organised.” He seemed nervous, unsettled.

“I’m sure it will, Detective.” Ed said, forcing himself to calm down. Getting worked up would help nothing. His plan would work fine. He was a genius, after all.

“Well, I’ll leave it in your hands.” Jim hastily made his way over to the door, barely remembering to mutter a rather hurried “Bye, Ed.” before swiftly taking his leave.

Ed leaned forwards, bracing himself on the filing cabinets as he tried to even out his breathing. It seemed he still wasn’t immune to the thrill of a close call. Sure, he may have been caught off guard (and perhaps a little worried) of Jim’s possible suspicions but he’d gotten away with it, hadn’t he? Ed took a few minutes to calm himself down and wipe the stupid grin off of his face before deciding it would be best to get back to work. That had to have been the most fun he’d had in a while.

He’d leave Jim to work out the conundrum of the missing crowbar.

————-

The rest of the day was unfortunately, painfully uneventful and Ed felt himself desperate to get home and back to Oswald. Logically, he knew Oswald would be okay, the man could handle himself just fine, but Ed still found himself worrying that he would return home and that Oswald would be gone, that he had been arrested, killed or had just left. Ed found himself particularly fearing that last one, as he had deemed it the most possible. Despite Oswald’s continued reassurances, Ed - prone to overthinking things and paranoia as he was - was still terrified that his boyfriend would grow tired of him and leave. Oswald was the first person to ever genuinely care about Ed and he would be damned if he let him get away.

Ed forcibly shook himself from those thoughts, consciously relaxing the tight grip he had on the pen he was holding. He re-foucused his eyes on the paperwork he was working on, filling it in almost mechanically, he’d done it so many times before he could probably do it with his eyes closed. He tried his hardest to concentrate but found his mind to be rather uncooperative.

His body was on autopilot as he finally packed up his things to leave as soon as his shift was over, not even bothering to stay behind like he usually did. He just wanted to see Oswald.

Ed felt a familiar sort of disconnect from himself as he made his way through the precinct and out onto the street towards his car. The drive back to his apartment passed in a hazy blur of flickering streetlights and beat-up road signs.

Eventually, Ed managed to trudge up the stairs and haul open the heavy metal door to his apartment.

“Oswald?” He called out as he entered, looking around the room.

Oswald wasn’t there.

no no no no no no no no-

“Oswald?” Ed called again, his voice cracking slightly as he tried in vain to conceal his panic.

“He’s gone, you moron.” That damn voice hissed. ”He’s gone and it’s your fault.”

Ed ignored it as best as he could and tried to focus on calming his harried breathing. He grabbed the door frame in an attempt to support himself, his knees suddenly feeling weak. Fuck. The only genuine connection Ed had felt to another person was gone. Oswald was gone.

Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh-

The door to the bathroom opened.

“Edward?”

”Oswald.” Ed choked out as he moved forwards and clumsily threw himself around the other man.

Oswald stumbled slightly at the sudden and unexpected impact of Ed’s crushing hug, wincing minutely as he put pressure on his bad leg. Luckily, he was having a rather good day pain wise and recovered quickly, hugging his boyfriend back with equal force and burying his face into Ed’s shoulder.

They stood there, embracing in the middle of the apparent for too long and not long enough. Time froze the way it always seemed to when they were in each other’s arms. Ed felt more real, more present than he had all day. His brain grew quiet, the static of his racing thoughts fading away as he focused on the grounding weight of Oswald against him. It was all going to be okay. Oswald was there. It was all going to be okay.

“Can we sit down?” Oswald asked quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment but very much starting to feel an unpleasant pain in his leg.

Ed nodded, grabbing tightly onto Oswald’s hand as Oswald manoeuvred them both over to sit on the bed, not wanting to lose contact with Oswald for even a fraction of a second. Edward had never been a big fan of touch. Perhaps it was because when growing up - and even when he was grown up - touch always meant pain was imminent, be it from a hand or from whatever else his aggressors could find. Maybe Ed had just always felt some sort of a fundamental aversion towards it. No such reservations were held when it came to Oswald. Physical contact with Oswald always made everything feel better.

They sat curled into each other, backs resting against the headboard. They didn’t talk for a long while, opting to just hold each other. Ed’s hands clutching at Oswald’s shirt and Oswald’s hands stroking through Ed’s hair.

“Do you wanna talk about it, maybe?” Oswald whispered, admittedly a bit out of his depth when it came to comforting people.

Ed hesitated for a while before slowly nodding, looking very uncertain. Perhaps even a little scared. Vulnerability was still a new thing for the both of them but they were getting somewhere. They were trying.

“I thought,” Ed takes a breath, calms himself down before he can get all worked up again. Oswald was here, he was fine. “I thought you were gone.”

Saying it out loud, it sounds almost absurd. Almost. Oswald’s expression reflects his feelings on the matter. Ed hides his face, embarrassed.

“Why would I be gone?” Oswald sounded genuinely confused.

Ed shrugged half heartedly. Oswald didn’t push, opting to hug Ed closer to him, he didn’t want to make his partner uncomfortable or risk upsetting Ed further.

Ed stayed silent for a long time, fully intending keeping his mouth shut about what he was so upset over. He’d seen the look on Oswald’s face when he’d told him he thought he had left. Oswald had looked almost offended by Ed’s words and Ed really didn’t want to trouble Oswald by elaborating further. He didn’t want to make things worse, he always made things worse. Although…maybe saying nothing would also make it worse? Why did human interaction have to be so damn complicated? He took a deep, shuddering breath and made his decision. What did he have to lose anyway?

Everything.

“I thought that-“ Another breath. In. Out. “I thought that you had left me because you realised you didn’t love me.” In. Out. Bite back the tears.

“Edward,” Oswald began. Ed braced himself. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Ed couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Be buried his face even deeper into Oswald’s shoulder, silently cursing himself for ruining the nice, clean shirt he was sobbing onto. Oswald’s hand stroked through Ed’s hair, trying his best to soothe him.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, I swear to you. It’s okay.”

Ed grabbed harder at Oswald’s shirt, as if to physically keep him in place. His sobs didn’t subside for what felt like hours.

They sat, tightly embraced in the silence until Oswald swallowed harshly and voiced his own fears.

“Sometimes, I’m worried that you’ll leave me, too.” He managed to get out. Ed had opened up, it was only fair that Oswald now did the same.

Ed’s reaction was immediate. His head shot up, abandoning its place on Oswald’s shoulder so that he could see his face.

“Oswald, I would never! I would sooner die than leave you.” He spoke, almost frantic.

“Then why do you think that I would ever leave you?”

Then they were both sobbing, grasping onto one another desperately.

“We really are just a pair of emotionally stunted idiots, aren’t we?” Oswald chuckled, wiping his tears. Trust them to start crying the second they had to talk about their feelings.

“Speak for yourself, I’m an emotionally stunted genius.” Ed responded, smiling for the first time in what felt like an age.

They lapsed back into silence again but instead of the tense sorrow felt previously, this was a more calming, companionable sort of quiet. It felt safe.

Neither of them could stay all that quiet for long, though.

“I enacted the next part of my plan today.” Ed spoke.

“Oh?” Oswald encouraged, eager to hear about anything Ed was so clearly proud of.

“Mhm, there was a minor issue but it had no real bearing on it at all.”

“What do you mean, a minor issue?” Oswald asked, feeling slightly uneasy.

“Oh nothing important, Jim just dragged me along to file that crowbar with him.” Ed responded, rolling his eyes while simultaneously trying to repress his grin at the thought of the earlier events.

Oswald’s eyes widened slightly. “He doesn't suspect you at all, does he?”

“Not a single bit.” Ed let his grin loose. “Besides, even if he did, he had no proof. He could never best me.”

“If you're sure…”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Oswald relaxed back into his partner, somewhat mollified. For the moment.

“Are you ready to see your father again this weekend?” Ed questioned.

“As I’ll ever be. Though I cannot say I look forward to seeing my step family again.”

“Neither can I.” Ed pulled a face. “I can’t say that they were the most pleasant people.”

Oswald nodded firmly in agreement. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

—————

The weekend couldn’t come soon enough, but somehow Oswald kept hoping that it was years away. It arrived just on time.

“Edward, where’s my-”

“It’s right here.” Ed passed Oswald his favourite tie - a swirling brocade number in a deep purple his mother had scrimped and saved to buy him as a birthday gift a few years back.

“Thank you.” Oswald grabbed the tie out of Ed’s hand and hastily made his way into the bathroom and infront of the mirror to tie it.

It took about three failures from his shaking hands before he gave up with an agitated groan.

“Here, let me.” Ed appeared behind him in the mirror.

Oswald obediently turned around to allow Ed access to the offending piece of fabric. In a few quick, practiced motions, the tie was securely fastened around Oswald’s neck.

Edward let his hand linger on Oswald’s chest for perhaps a moment longer than was strictly necessary before dipping down for a quick kiss, which Oswald reciprocated happily.

Ed dusted off the shoulders of Oswald’s suit and took a step back.

“Magnificent.”

Oswald blushed. “I could say the same about you.”

It was Edward’s turn to blush. “Are you ready to leave?” He eventually asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Oswald responded, grabbing Ed’s hand. “Let's go.”