Homophobia

Ridder x Scarecrow Slash

I haven't written anything in a while so I hope this isn't too terrible.

I own no one, if I did the DC Universe would be a hell of a lot gayer. So its probably for the best.

The alarms began at exactly 2:13 am, a sound so common it was no more distracting then that of a distant police siren. Not a single inmate gave the blinking lights in the dark more then a glance or a fleeting thought of who had caused it.

Who it was fleeing from Arkham Asylum tonight?

The plan took almost a week to put together, casual seeming chatter over a chessboard. The guards had not picked up on the double meanings whispered under breath, and now they paid for it.

They screamed, at the top of their lungs, clutching and scratching at their clothes. They were being attacked, set aflame, crawled over, or at least that's what they thought. In truth they were only wriggling on the floor, fighting off their imaginary enemies.

"How long are you going to stare at them?" A mans voice broke through the darkness of the current black out, it was muffled by the mask clinging to his face. "Its not like you haven't seen this a hundred and twenty times , how can this time possibly be any different from the last time you gassed the guards."

The taller of the duo didn't bother to glance at his partner in departure, but the disdain was more then evident in the sharpness of his usually monotone voice. "As long as it takes you to get dressed I suppose."

"I have to match!" The others voice hitched to a childlike pitch with the last word. "We might get noticed if we go out wearing whatever we happen to pinch off these morons."

"His clothes match."

"Yes but they're hideous."

There was no sign that the other cared about his fashion advice, or even heard him for that matter. He had more important things to be concerned with, like the fact that what little toxin he had made would run out soon enough. It was time to leave, the slap of shoes on tile signaled that to his companion. The light of the full moon flooded the doorway, breaking through the deadness of the power outage back inside. The soft sound of waves on rocks should have been soothing, but nothing sang as sweet as car's engine It was still warm, the guards must have just arrived.

The alert went out before they reached Gothem's mainland, Scarecrow and the Riddler where at large.

"And WHY did we have to leave the car?" Edward Nygma scratched his shoes against the brick wall of one of the buildings that made up the cramped alley. The concrete below was covered in god knows what and the stains matched what had already crawled up the brick.

"The car we stole belonged to Arkham staff, they would recognize the plates." Jonathan crane stayed to the shadows, unlike his companion who has still whining under his breath and hopping around the muck. He was long gone from any form of emotion by now, but if he still had them, irritation would not come close to describing this moment. "I would think 'Gothem's greatest mind' would have considered that possibility"

"Of COURSE! I have considered every possibility, even the one that has you leaving me behind at the asylum." So had I, Crane thought to himself, "I just don't see while we didn't drive a few miles past then hell's waste basket."

"This area is known for less then legal activities" Something somewhere that Edward couldn't hear made Jonathan's head tilt. His glasses, for a moment, reflected the streetlight, the only part of his face illuminated with the rest of him haunted the shadows. It gave the illusion of two staring eyes out of the darkness and made the smaller man shiver just a bit."Deeper in the city people will have the spare attention to check our faces. Here anyone who might interrupt us will be far too busy with their own crimes to bother."

The Riddler huffed to himself in response, as much as he hated to admit it that did make sense. Stealth wasn't his strong point... of course it wasn't! He was the Riddler! He didn't hide! He took challenges and handed them out! He didn't need to sneak out and yell BOO like certain people.

Still it probably didn't help that his red hair looked like a traffic cone in the moonlight.

It was a few more alleyways before the silence was starting to make Edwards tongue itch.

"Where is your safe house anyway?"

"Close."

That was descriptive. "How close?"

"Close."

He never could get much out of the doctor unless he was giving an explanation or a diagnosis, both of which were usually about the Ridder, and usually to make him the fool. Or maybe in his own strange way he thought he was helping, but Edward doubted it, either way it was hard to tell since his face showed about as much as the mask he wore when it came to reaction. At least he was intelligent enough to carry out a conversation that interested his own powerful mind. Most of those conversations were silent, spoken in the code of black and white pieces moving over a checker board.

"Riddle me this." the response came automaticly while he pondered the Doctor's motives. "I run distances, making many turns but never move one foot. What am-"

"Quiet."

Edward practically ran face first into the taller man, even an inch from his face Jonathan was still difficult to see. But that wasn't the problem.

He had interrupted his riddle!

"Now you listen, SCARY! I don't know if you've heard but I am Edward Nygma, The Riddler, genius! And you had better learn-"

"I said quiet!" a thin arm extended in front of his angry strut, halting him before he could head out into the street. He shoved it out of the way and waved his own in front of the taller man's face.

"You would still be back at the asylum if it wasn't for me! Who figured out the escape route! All you did was distract the guards with that gas of yours. You hear that? You were the DISTRA-"

This time he interrupted himself, an odd little yip escaped his mouth as he was suddenly spun by the earlier offending arm and pushed, not to gently for that matter, against the brick wall of the claustrophobic alley. It wasn't the sudden shove, or the disgusting bricks that were now smearing his clothes that took him by surprise, it was the bony frame that now sandwiched him against them. He had never known the doctor to give so much as a handshake, even to himself, and they'd been conversing, more or less, for weeks. It was in that moment that he first realized how cold it was that night, the sudden warmth of another body to contrast it made his skin prickle.

He opened his mouth to question the strange sudden act but then he heard what Jonathan must have been listening too this whole time. The slow roll of tires on street, the subtle screeching of a two way radio, the all too familiar police jargon, and their names. Their names.

Shit! They hadn't been out two hours and now they were going to be dragged back again after all that planning. He wanted to run, to shrink behind something despite his earlier proud inner monologue, but the taller man had him pinned like a bony mouse trap. Why didn't he MOVE? Was this some kind of double cross? Did Crane help him escape just so he could blame it on Edward later to get time off? Shit shit shit shit! He should have never had trusted him! The man barely spoke two words at a time! How the hell did he manage to convince HIM to-

His thoughts stopped, really everything seemed to stop, the police, the city, the stressful beating in his chest. What was this? Shell shock? A Stroke?

Whatever it was it was brought on by one simple yet implausible fact.

Jonathon Crane currently had his mouth pressed against his own.

His mind repeated, what was this? Some kind of joke? No the Scarecrow did not joke. Revenge? What did it prove? An attempt to shut him up... possibly... but surely there were other ways to do that.

It was strange, he hadn't been kissed in... well in a while, crime didn't come with a dating pool, especially for Gothem's super villains. And with Crane of all people, not that he hadn't looked at the man, he was attractive when his face wasn't in a burlap sack, but he'd given up on that when he'd give up on ever seeing a smile cross the doctor's face.

He hadn't realized how fast he was flipping through those thoughts until something pushed against his lips, something that was soon inside. Jonathon's tongue? What was...? His mouth tingled and parts of it went slightly numb. Fear toxin, it must have been the fear toxin, it was in the doctor's bloodstream by now, he probably sweated it! That had to be what was beginning to affect his knees too. Thankfully, no not thankfully, he wasn't thankful for any of this, fortunately two long arms practically lapped each other as they tightened around his thin waist, hoisting him closer. Edward wrapped his arms around the man's neck, for leverage, nothing more, weaving his fingers through scratchy short hair. It felt like straw.

At some point, he didn't know the time but it was when they both tilted their head's to lock their mouths more efficiently, there was a faint mumbling from the street, some coughs and the sudden burn of eager tires on blacktop. It was all difficult to hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears, which had decided to make up for its sudden stop by working overtime.

It was around the time that he noticed that even though the doctor hadn't been in a lab in probably months he still managed to smell like latex and chemicals that the seal between them was broken. Jonathan was speaking but Edward wasn't catching it, his vision was slightly foggy and all his mind could seem to clue to was the movement of the other lips.

"... personal doubt leads to fear and fear leads to disgust, so often when faced with an example most are more then eager to just get away from the offenders then stop and deal with them."

After a few blinks he managed to get his thoughts in order. "...what?"

Jonathon's expression was just as dull as ever, like they had been chatting about the weather a moment ago rather then playing tonsil hockey "Homophobia."

"Homo... Oh... right, scare them away on their own... and the... of course they'd never see our faces... smart... brilliant really!" he laughed, but it caught in his throat but and he didn't know why he thought it would help in the first place. Jonathan was already walking away, leaving him to follow with a slight wobble in his knees and, he would never admit it, a discomfort between his legs. Of course, it was a trick, foolish policemen, they'd fall for anything... how stupid they were... stupid stupid stupid-

"A Fence"

Why did this man insist on constantly interrupting his thoughts? "What was that?"

"The answer to your riddle. 'I run distances, making many turns but never move one foot.' It's a fence."

Edward halted mid stride. He wasn't sure what was more believable, what had gone down earlier, or the fact that Jon had not only listened to his riddle, but found the answer. The night had been strange and confusing but he allowed himself a smirk. How could he ever questioned his own taste in partners? He was a genius after all.

With a self, satisfied huff he trotted along with a spring in his step."

"So, are we there yet?"