They were rarely spoken of, those early mornings when the sun painted the sky in colors impossible to name that Jonathan was forced to wake to the clumsy sounds of Edward's triumphant return. Always after a successful raid would he find some sleazy bar to destroy himself at and then stumble home for Jonathan to clean up the aftermath, whether it be vomit in some random container or a sexual urge that could not be denied.
Home. Jonathan turned the word over in his mind as he hissed at the cruel and cold touch of the exposed floorboards of the waterfront warehouse that currently held that title. When had he accepted this? At what point had he given up all sense of normalcy and decided that some moldy, drippy, rat infested excuse for a building could serve as a place of residence for a man who had once been called both doctor and professor?
"Johnny?" And then Jonathan knew. "Johnny?" The sound of that boy's voice, even slurred from drink and a long night of raiding jewelry stores and fighting the Bat at every attack sounded as sweet as sugared tea to his ears. As he turned the walled corner of the staircase and saw the slouching figure of The Riddler, a grip still tight around his haul, Jonathan knew why he put up with it all.
"Come here," Jonathan opened his arms to the tired creature and Edward fell into them like they were the only good thing in the world. "You stupid child." Edward just hummed in dim agreement.
It wasn't hard, even in his tired state for Jonathan to scoop up the now worthless Edward into his arms. Undressing him, that was something worthy of an Olympic medal. So many layers and buttons and straps. But after so much time Jonathan managed to undo each item and then in turn dress Edward for sleep.
Edward did not fight having his sleep clothes put on him. Jonathan knew from experience that his Riddler was not lucid enough for anything more than what he was dressed for. When the deed was done Jonathan reclined his long frame on their shared bed, Edward cradled in his arms and watch the sun rise over the water. Those nameless colors bleeding into the reflective surface, the even bobbing of the tethered boats lulling him to join Edward in unconsciousness.
But Jonathan was no ready to go to nightmares, not just yet. He wanted to feel Edward's heat and weight upon him, feel the boy's breath on his neck and listen to his drunken, half formed words. He wanted to love something not meant to be loved. For a moment he wanted to know what it was like to be human.
The day would progress. The GCPD would search the city for clues about the stolen goods from the night before. The Bat would go back to whatever it was he did when the sun was out and his signal could not be seen.
In an abandoned warehouse on The Narrows two bodies laid as one; untouched, undisturbed. Only the colors unnamed painting their bare skin and pale sleep clothes was allowed. When they woke the day would not be spoken of but the memory of love would be present in both their minds as they donned their costumes for another night on the town.