Characters/Pairing: Lee 'Doc' Thompkins/Edward Nygma (The Riddler)
Summary: Their bodies align together. The question of who they are is less straightforward.
Author's Note: Set after 4.17. I BLAME YOU, SHOW. 1,099 words. Not beta read, so constructive criticism is welcome.

Alignment: shallowness

If he were Ed, it would be awkward, because Ed is always awkward, he thinks. Lee can imagine she's kissing Ed Nygma, but the Riddler is better at this, like everything. She wanted to unleash the Riddler, he's warned her how dangerous it is, but she initiated this anyway. He is clear in his mind that it is the Riddler kissing her back.

What Lee thinks, with surprise, is that their bodies align well, from their lips to their heights. She thought she knew for what purposes she needed the Riddler and just how far she'd manipulate him. She thought she knew how much she'd missed Ed, her right-hand man, her unexpected confidence booster. Her friend. Turns out she wants a little more from him.

Turns out being nearly killed by him made her want to kiss this man. It was the nearly that did it. She's trusting a lot to that nearly.

It's funny that she, a doctor, should have lost touch with her physical needs, somewhere between drinking to numb her pain to taking up the cause of the Narrows and all the pain that that's caused her. She's been ignoring the pain of her shattered hand as much as she can. She's realizing now that there have been other things she's been ignoring for much longer. She hasn't been with anyone since Mario. It's been a while.

Not wanting to think of past loves, Lee thrusts her tongue into Ed's mouth, an aggressive move, but the noise he makes is pleased, and he holds her tighter as his own tongue meets hers.

Exploring what works for them entices Lee. He's the one that pulls away. Her expression is indignant.

"There's a room upstairs," he rasps out.

Her higher brain functions switch back on.

"With a bed?" she demands.

"With a bed," he replies, unsmiling, but Lee smirks for them both. He leads her off the stage the Riddler had made his own. A stage that she took over because the Narrows is hers.

The light is dimmer now. They don't touch. Ed might want to hold her uninjured hand or something sentimental like that, but he is not Ed, whatever Lee believes. However, she is close on his heels, not wanting much distance between them. He flashes his teeth, his smile triumphant, although Lee can't see it, hurries up, leading her up the stairs, down a too long corridor, pushing the door open.

Once inside, he turns to look at her, gestures at the bed like it's a prize and grins. Lee rolls her eyes. You don't get king-size beds in the Narrows, where you take what you can get. But it's a bed. It's what she asked for.

He doesn't need to ask if her hand gives her pain. It clearly does, and maybe this is distraction therapy or pain relief. Poor, pathetic Ed would give her anything she wanted. The Riddler just observes that Lee protects her hand, even though she has no sling at the moment.

It's the other hand that roams his body, a thumb in the cleft of his chin, finger tips brushing his Adam's apple, something of the doctor's fascination with the human body in the journey she takes. She loosens his tie, goes lower. He remembers a time when there were needles in his body, being burned by ice, and yet what he's currently experiencing is of a different order. He wants more.

They resume kissing, their bodies needing the contact after long seconds apart. His hands are now on Lee's hips, aligning them, hers are back around his neck.

Paying him back, Lee pulls away. He frowns.

"It's going to be easier for you to take off our clothes," she says matter of factly. The Riddler nods. She notices him swallow, an uncontrollable gesture.

He sheds the Riddler's suit, in between undressing her. The Riddler keeps tight control over Ed's awareness of the symbolism of his actions. He is not revealing the man beneath the suit, he's getting naked. But so is Lee. Controlling Ed's response to seeing more and more of Lee's body is a challenge, especially when she is only in her underwear, black but with no trimmings and all that skin demanding to be touched. Ed would kiss, would caress, but the Riddler knows this is not going to be an act of reverence, and it is clear Lee doesn't want it to be one.

Yet he circles her to undo the catch of her bra, takes his time to pull it off the shoulder of her stronger arm. She pulls down the other strap as he lowers her panties down her hips until she can shimmy out of them. Then she turns around to face him.

It's Ed that Lee sees give out a little huff at the sight of her without a stitch on. Lee smiles and pulls at the waistband of his underwear. It's more of a command than a suggestion. He obeys, but at the Riddler's pace. She lets herself appreciate the state of him, before taking a step forward. Their bodies are aligned again, with no barriers between them.

He manoeuvres her to the bed, where she ends up lying backwards, his knee between her legs. For a second, he looms over her, and then he decides to kiss her again.

He doesn't try to take his glasses off and she makes no move to. Lee likes him looking at her, hooded one second, unguarded the next, always seeing her.

From his scent on the bed linen, Lee knows Ed has been sleeping here. She's surrounded by him.

Lee wasn't interested in Ed making love to her, and she's sure that, as the Riddler, he only means to screw with her, but here she is, about to screw both in the one lean body. She runs her hand through his hair as his tongue swirls around her nipple.

As for him, whoever he is, she's the queen of the Narrows – the Riddler acknowledges that. But she's the queen of the night, the queen of the bed too. Undeniable. She flips him over, and he realizes she wants to ride him. As she slides down on him, he's happy to give himself to her, beyond names, telling himself it's only the physical release he wants.

The Riddler won't say those three words, but she doesn't need him to. For the Doc, they were a means to an end. And Ed Nygma, of all people, is giving Leslie Thompkins what she needs now, which is good enough.

They all come undone together.