Archive of Our Own ^beta

If it had been up to Penguin, they’d be at his hideout right now, plotting and scheming away at their dastardly upcoming plans to foil that bat-fink and his boy blunder once and for all. If it had been up to Penguin, the topic of which they’d been conversing, uh, arguing, over wouldn’t have even passed either one of their lips in the first place. If it had been up to Penguin, Joker would be the one in his shoes right about now.

If it had been up to Penguin, they wouldn’t currently be situated right here in Riddler’s tailor shop.

But as it stood, nothing of what had just occurred had been up to Penguin, and with the strong grip Joker bore on his arm, dragging him in the moment they were about to pass it, he had no real choice but to comply unless he wanted to be flung off his feet and bump that big nose of his square on the floor. True, he did not want to be there, but any visible damage to the most notable part of his face may prove somewhat of a reputation-death in the eyes of the other rogues, and he’d never hear the end of it. As such, he was forced inside and left complaining to both himself and his partner - in crime, that was, of course nothing more - about his distaste regarding the concept via a series of “wehk!”s.

The Riddler had watched them come in, drawn away from whatever it had been he was sewing together before (although the blue-tinged colour of the fabric gave some idea), his eyes half-lidded and mouth straight, eyebrows finishing the look with a judgemental furrow, all of it combining in a way that screamed “here we go again”.

In the end, it was the Joker that broke the conversational boundary, addressing Riddler as he leaned down beside Penguin, a hand on either of his shoulders. “Oh, good afternoon, Riddler! I hope you’re doing well this cheery day - we’ve just come in to get Penguin here a new wardrobe!”

The light squeeze he gave the shorter’s shoulders was likely supposed to be comforting, but with that manic grin and out-of-boundary red lipstick on his face, it was honestly difficult to tell the difference between that and teasing. Penguin chose the latter. “Don’t bother! My wardrobe is perfectly prepossessing!” he spat, popping his p’s.

“Perfectly possessing, maybe,” came the clown’s return, “And unless you still want to look more frightful than a ghost itself, then I think coming in here was a very good idea of mine!”

Contrastingly, and to no-one’s true surprise, the Penguin did not appear to agree with such a notion, jerking himself away from the man’s gloved grasp, and took to somewhat of a frustration-induced pacing. “Bah! You ought to know a lot about frights, too, with that face of yours!”

“Such hostility!” Joker tutted, the grin not leaving his face, “Really, Pengy, there’s no need to be so defensive!”

“Defensive? Me?! About what?! There’s nothing about you or any of the clownish comments that slip out of that terrible trap of yours that makes me feel defensive!”

For a moment, Riddler looked as though he wanted to say something, but it didn’t take him long to close his mouth and shake his head silently to himself, instead choosing to lean back further against his workbench, biting his thumb as his eyes flickered between the two squabbling fools with vague interest - of when they were going to stop; he figured it wouldn’t matter if he tried to speak, because with those two going on like that, he wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgeways, so didn’t bother wasting his breath.

In appropriate fashion, the funny-man jested back. “You’re just defensive because I’m without-a-doubt correct! Unlike your fashion sense.”

Insulted, Penguin retorted. “You’re a-” he started, finding it a little laborious to come up with an apt name once he turned to face the other for inspiration and was instead struck with a foreign warmness in the centre of his stomach, resorting to an old reliable in his panic, “-pasty-faced fool!”

“Oh come on, Pengy,” Joker cooed, patting his cheek lightly, “you know Jokey knows best!”

Riddler stared indignantly at the display, not doing a very good job at hiding the expression on his face, and spoke up for the first time since they’d unfortunately walked in. “Do I need to make myself scarce in my own store?”

At the very insinuation of the nature of their relationship, Penguin looked ready to pop with anger and start going haywire with his umbrella, but Joker’s jovial reaction had him holding back, the laughter punching the air at it always did, solidifying his presence and who he was beyond nary a doubt. “Ooo-hahahah! Not necessary, my puzzling pal, simply not necessary! I won’t be around long regardless - just here to let you know what we need, and then I’ll be on my merry way! Ha!”

“Faugh!” Penguin spat angrily, removing his cigarette holder to seethe more properly, “We are not in need of anything, Joker! You dragged me in here on your own poor-opinioned whim! Do not bother with us, Mr Riddler, for the Joker’s intentions are pointless! Fakes! They’ve no ground to stand on!”

“Have you thought about going into politics?” Riddler rebutted flatly, rolling his eyes.

“Have you thought about the damage I could do to you and this place if you try making a fool of me with your tricky words again?!”

“I-”

“A-ha, give us a moment, Riddler,” the tallest of the three interjected, smoothing out his garish suit, “Just get on with your work, ignore us for the time being whilst I have a little talk with Penguin here.”

That was enough incentive to get the Riddler to comply, turning back to his prior work with an exasperated sigh. He couldn’t care less about the intricacies of their situation; money was money, and as long as somebody was paying, he’d do the job. All this inane, senseless bickering was serving nothing other than wasting his time and giving him a headache, to boot.

Once the other two had stepped away slightly to give the illusion of privacy, Joker tried to bargain. “Pengy-”

“Don’t you ‘Pengy’ me,” Penguin snapped, yanking his arm away from the hold that had guided him to one side, “Not at the moment, anyway. You know full well I didn’t want to come in here and yet you forced me in like some kind of animal!”

Joker frowned, feigning confusion. “Well, you are a bird, aren’t you?”

“Ouh, can it, you costumed clown!”

“‘Costumed clown’?” he repeated, tone tinged with offense, “How dare you!”

This time it was Penguin’s turn to challenge. “Well, you are one, aren’t you? Wehk, wehk!”

Unfortunately, this did nothing more than fuel the fire, so if the poor third party to this mess that was the Riddler didn’t have a headache before, he’d certainly have one by now, pounding away inside his skull like the two were so awful that even his own brain wanted to crawl out his ears to get away. To make matters worse, with the now repetitive nature of the heated discussion, it didn’t look like they were going to let up any time soon.

“Why, you puny penguin!”

“Why, you cheap crook!”

“Why, you-!”

“Why, you-!”

“Why-”

“SHUT UP! Shut up! Both of you!” Riddler shouted, announcing tone louder and more rounded than the two currently jabbering voices that curtailed their pettiness when he shut them down, before slipping into a more sensible volume, “Gentlemen,” he went on, muttering the next part, “and I use that term lightly-” he cleared his throat, “-try to control yourselves. Now I’m rather busy so can you please decide what you want or leave? You’ve done nothing but argue from the moment you came in here. And here I was thinking you were supposed to be allies.”

“He’s right,” Penguin granted, “for once.”

“And so am I,” Joker pointed out, “I think you’d look simply dashing in a new outfit!”

Oh.

Oh, that changed everything.

Joker thought he could be dashing.

“I’m already dashing,” he insisted, continuing with a slightly less sure-of-himself tone, “but if that’s… really what you think-”

“It is, Pengy, it is!”

It wasn’t that Penguin felt a strong need to impress Joker, exactly, but it also wasn’t not like that. Whether he liked it or not, Joker’s thoughts meant a lot to him, especially in more recent times where such realisations had been accompanied with a plethora of unwanted feelings, so to get confirmation that this action would get him further into the other’s good books, which could perhaps develop into something more - not that he’d been thinking about that sort of thing, of course - it seemed like a surefire solution; after all, what did he have to lose? Except, perhaps, a few hundred dollars into the Riddler's extortionate hands, if the pleased look on his face was anything to go by.

“Well… augh, fine, if it’ll make you shut up,” he settled with.

“Oh, delicious! - Riddler, fix him up nice, all the details and all the extras - and don’t worry about the expense,” he added, “Penguin’s paying.”

“What-”

“Oh, would you look at the time!” he exclaimed, conveniently only then having checked his watch, “If I stay around here for another moment, I’ll be late for my next part of the plan! Oh well, what can you do, hm, Riddler?”

Knowingly, Riddler smirked. “Nothing, I’m sure.”

“Exactly, my friend, exactly!” he beamed happily, despite his bird-like associate’s face telling the exact opposite, “Now, I really must run - and I hope to see you’ve something better than that prison issue when I return!”

Without further ado, Joker went on his way to the door, laughing heartily and sealing his visit with a little “cheerio!” and a flamboyant wave before making his exit through the shop door, the little bell above it politely notifying everyone still inside of his leaving. The two remaining rogues stayed in silence for a few moments, just processing the whole affair, albeit in very different ways. It was no secret to either of them that the nature of the conversation had left Penguin deeply flustered, and when that happened he got, as Joker had correctly surmised, defensive, and that, Penguin figured, doing his best to change the subject to detract from the flush on his face, was not going to change any time soon.

“A ‘prison issue’,” he fought, “this triumph?”

Riddler blinked, flat-faced, before sighing and turning to fetch his tape measure, pencil, and notepad. With his back turned, he spoke up again. “When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” the shorter, angrier man demanded, accusingly.

It turned out no reply was needed when Riddler spun back around to face him, prior objects now retrieved, with a brow raised in a perfect little ‘really?’ face that immediately threw Penguin off course. So much for being discreet.

“Ah, phooey!” Penguin grumbled, forcing as much grit as possible into his voice in a bid to hide the building, jittering nerves, “It’s a difficult subject.”

“And a difficult watch,” Riddler countered, holding the pencil and notebook beneath his arm as he looped the tape measure around Penguin’s neck, just above the collar bone.

Despite it all, Penguin allowed the intrusion into his personal space. “Keep your remarks to yourself, Mr Riddler, I’m the one with the loaded umbrella. And I can hardly help it if I don’t have the assurance of knowing whether or not he… bah… reciprocates.”

After double-checking the number, the green-suited man withdrew the tape, draping it around his neck as a placeholder whilst he moved to jot the size down on the paper. “What you need,” he pointed out, as-matter-of-factly, “is someone to steer the conversation in the way you need it to go, to do the digging for you and let you reap the results. A mad dash across no man’s land without any of the risks it carries, as it were.”

And Riddler was right, as much as Penguin didn’t want to admit it. He was too uptight to get over himself and declare anything he may or may not be feeling, and that extra helping hand may be just what he required. Agreeing to go through with such a plan did mean he’d be acknowledging defeat in the grand scheme of things, in that he’d finally have to admit to himself and someone else that some kind of bothersome emotion very much did exist and was swelling inside of him, the very same one that made butterflies flutter inside his stomach when Joker smiled, that warmed his face when he placed a hand on his arm, and that had his adrenaline pumping when they both agreed they were men after each other’s own hearts - but to ameliorate the swamping sensation, putting this plan into action may be worth the risk it carried, making it best to give it a shot.

“True, true…” Penguin conceded, pondering, mulling over his options, “A truly difficult position to acquire someone for. That is unless someone nearby would be willing to volunteer for this Sunday.”

Not the most subtle of hints, but it did the job.

“I’m not the one to ask to pointlessly third wheel,” the Riddler commented, tucking his pencil behind his ear, “it’s not a part of my job description.”

Biting his lip, Penguin considered his alternatives for a moment, realising that there was only one real option if he wanted this done, as much as it pained him. “I’ll give you an extra two-hundred dollars. Cash.”

“Done,” Riddler immediately agreed, eyes snapping to meet his. “Sunday, you said?”

“Correct,” he affirmed.

“Good, good… And you know, Penguin, maybe next time let the other person barter,” he bragged, the smile on his face nothing less than a know-it-all grin, “because I would’ve done it for fifty.”

Whilst Penguin was in essence getting exactly what he wanted, a statement concerning unnecessary loss of his money was something he had no business in wanting to hear.

“WEEEEEEHHHHHKK!”