"Absolutely not."
"Oh come on Ed," Ivy pouts, sticking her bottom lip out in a quite frankly, ridiculous expression. "You've been moaning that you need a new roommate ever since Barbara left to shack up with Tabby and that was weeks ago. You do not get paid enough to pay for this place by yourself."
Ed would try and disagree with her, he really would. But trying to argue with Ivy was one of the dumbest things you could do, and it didn't help that she was actually right. Not that he would ever admit to that, she'd never let it drop. But he did need to start actively looking for a new roommate, beyond placing up one flyer on the overcrowded board at the precinct, and swiftly covering it with a Missing Persons poster. The flat he lived in wasn't cheap, and he would hate to move out of it more than he would hate to live with another person.
Living with Barbara had been in a whirlwind in itself, but they'd understood each other. To outsiders they couldn't be more different than chalk and cheese, and whilst the blonde had almost driven Ed to pure insanity more than once they had made it work. He couldn't imagine meeting anyone else who would get him in the same manner, not when he could probably count on one hand how many people he genuinely liked and returned the sentiment.
"Honestly you'll love Ozzie," Ivy's voice cuts through his thoughts, and Ed absently realises he had spent the last few minutes filling him in about 'Ozzie'.
"Hmm I'm sure, he sounds great," Ed nodded non-committedly. Maybe if he showed disinterest Ivy would eventually let the topic drop, wearing herself down, like a small child would.
"Brilliant. Oh my God, this is going to be the best thing ever! And with the lift being fixed last week, well it's perfect," she exclaimed, pulling her phone out and dialling. Ed felt his heart sink as he realised just what was about to happen, reaching forward desperately to try and grab the phone, though Ivy darted out of his reach with ease. Maybe 'Ozzie' wouldn't pick up.
"Ozzie, it's me."
Nevermind.
"You've got the room! Ed can't wait for you to move in."
That wasn't just an overstatement, but an outright lie.
"When's a good time for you to move in? Let me just check I'm with your new roomie now."
"Never," Ed hissed, hoping that his voice wouldn't be picked up on the line. He may not want a new roommate, but he wasn't a complete dick.
"Tomorrow is perfect."
Ivy Pepper was going to die a slow and most definitely painful death.
}}}}}}
The first thing Ed thought when he saw Oswald is that he is absolutely striking. He was fairly certain that beautiful would be the wrong word to use, in the conventional manner at least, but there was something about the other man that leaves Ed temporarily speechless. He wasn't sure if it was the sharp contrast between his dark hair and the paleness of his skin, or the smattering of light freckles over his nose and cheeks, but Oswald, Ed quickly determined, was breath-taking.
The second thing he notices about his new roommate is his limp, as he walks into the flat, looking around with open curiosity. Ivy's comment about the fixed lift made a lot more sense than it had the previous evening, Ed had just presumed she had mentioned it because it would make it a lot easier for Oswald to move all his stuff in.
"I've cleared out a couple of the shelves in the fridge for you. And your bedroom is the door on the left, Barbara, the woman who used to live here had some… questionable tastes so you may find something weird when you're unpacking, though I think I managed to grab it all," Ed knew he was babbling, was completely aware of it in fact, but that didn't mean he would be able to stop at any time. He had always been unable to cope with awkward silences at the best of times, this was apparently no different. "Do you want me to help grab the rest of your bags from downstairs?"
"That's quite alright," Oswald replied, his bemusement clear to read. Motioning to the small carry-on in his hand. "This is all I have with me, I'm not much of a hoarder."
"Ah ok then," Ed nodded. The pair lapsed into a silence, unsure of what to say or what their next move should be. He desperately wracked his brain for a conversation starter, any would do, but his mind came up completely blank. Drat.
"I should make us dinner," Oswald said finally breaking the silence. "As a thank you for letting me move in."
"Oh no, don't be silly," Ed starts to protest but he was silenced when Oswald lifted his hand up.
"I insist. There is nothing better than a good, hearty meal at the end of the day. And it will give us proper chance to get to know each other. I'll make us goulash; my mother had the most amazing recipe. I must admit, I've never made it myself but how hard can it be?"
}}}}}}}
The answer Ed finds out 40 minutes later, is apparently very. If the piercing and incessant beeping from the smoke alarm hadn't alerted him to something going very wrong in the kitchen, the vile smell and smoke billowing through the crack in his bedroom door certainly would have. He wasn't quite sure how Oswald had managed it, but he had melted a ladle to the bottom of a pan and completely ruined a baking tray.
"From now on, I think it would be best if I cook," he yelled over the alarm and grabbing a tea-towel to try and fan away the smoke. "Because as nice as the thought was, I do like to have my flat kept intact."
"Agreed. I am so sorry Ed, what must you think of me?" Oswald nodded, looking distressed as Ed finally managed to get the blasted alarm to turn off.
"Don't be stupid," Ed placed a hand on Oswald's shoulder, hoping the physical contact would provide some form of comfort. It worked for most people, even if it made him feel slightly uncomfortable. "Everyone has different talents, it's just obvious that yours do not lie in the kitchen. The laundry however may be another matter entirely."
Ed felt a flush of pride in his chest at Oswald's smile. He struggled sometimes to make people feel better, his already poor social skills were not helped by the fact that he mainly interacted with dead bodies at work. He had stopped letting it bother him years ago, why should he be expected to change himself because others thought of him as weird?
But for some reason, it felt like it mattered to get Oswald to like him, and not just because they lived together. Hell, he had thought of Barbara as a complete witch for the first three months of their shared tenancy, and her opinion of him hadn't been much better. No, there was something about Oswald that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"I can't make you cook after all this though, it's getting late. We should just order take-out, is there anything you'd prefer?"
"Twin brothers are the same height. They come out but never talk. They will be the first to taste the delicious food but will never put on weight."
"Was… was that a riddle?" Oswald blinked.
"Do you like riddles?"
"I can't say I've given them much thought since childhood," Oswald said after a moment. Ed could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, unsure what to make of the interaction. Most people were the same, they thought it weird that he'd turn things into mind-games rather than just asking a simple question, but Ed liked riddles. It was as simple as that. It also helped him figure out who in the room had more than two brain-cells to rub together.
Oswald was silent for a moment longer, and Ed found himself tensing, preparing himself for a punch. More than one person had reacted violently to his little riddles before, true most were dunderheads at the GCPD, but there was a first time for everything.
"Are you talking about chopsticks?" Oswald said eventually, his willingness to answer shocking Ed more than him getting the answer right. "Chinese?"
"Exactly," Ed grinned, reaching to the drawer stuffed full of takeout menus. Whilst he loved to cook, Barbara never willingly stepped foot into the kitchen, not that he would have let her again after the infamous ravioli incident. Why was he incapable of living with people who knew one end of a spatula from the other? "And I know just the place."
}}}}}
"Whilst my mother's goulash would have hit the spot completely after day like today, this has been a good second choice," Oswald said with a contented sigh, spooning the last of the plum duck out of the carton.
"Well maybe when you've settled in she can come over to make it?" Ed knew he had misspoken the second he saw Oswald tense up, fork forgotten halfway to his mouth.
He took a deep breath, as if he was composing himself, looking down at his newly-bare plate as he spoke. "My mother unfortunately passed away last year."
"Oh Oswald I'm so sorry," Ed could have kicked himself. Not only for bringing up a topic still completely raw, but also brushing off the goulash, which no doubt would have particular nostalgia for the older man.
"You weren't to know, it's no bother," Oswald said, though his watery smile showed just how shaken he still was.
"This may be out of line," Edward said after a second, reaching over the table to place his hand over Oswald's to give it a comforting squeeze. "But if you want, you could give me your mother's recipe and I could try and recreate it. I know it's not much, but it may make you feel a little closer to her?"
"I would like that very much. Thank you."
}}}}}}}}
"Holy hell, this is incredible," Ivy exclaimed, taking another spoonful of goulash before even properly swallowing her last mouthful. Ed tried not to outwardly grimace at the younger girl's astounding lack of manners, instead placing all his focus on the figure sat next to Ivy, who was staring morosely at the bowl in his hands.
"It's not right is it?"
"I'm sorry Ed, Ivy's got it right it is amazing, but mother's had a bit more a kick to it," Oswald looked genuinely upset at the admission. "You don't need to keep doing this you know, you've made what, six batches over the last week? It's not even that important."
"Seven actually. And don't be ridiculous, I've told you I'm going to crack this recipe and I bloody well will," Ed finished his sentence with a flourish of his pen on the notepad. Oswald calling the scrap of paper that Gertrude had haphazardly written a cooking method onto a recipe was slightly overgenerous, after all there had been no measurements or timings, but it didn't make Ed any less determined. In fact, it was probably achieving the opposite. Gertrude's goulash was proving to be his latest mystery that needed cracking, and he loved a good mystery.
"So you're not going to finish that?" Ivy asked Oswald, stealing his bowl before he had chance to finish it, her own practically gleaming on the coffee-table.
"You're lucky I love you," Oswald sighed, the fondness in his tone so strong even a deaf man would have picked up on it. On instinct Ed felt himself stiffen as he listened to the two.
"Luck has nothing to do with it," Ivy giggled, smacking her lips together loudly as she kissed him on the cheek, leaving a bright pink lipstick mark.
"I… I uh need to check on something for work tomorrow," Ed stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep red as he left the living room. Neither Oswald nor Ivy appeared to notice, giggling and whispering to one another, their fingers laced together as the red-head continued to eat with one hand.
Only when his bedroom door was shut behind him did Ed allow himself to release a dejected sigh. He had known about Oswald and Ivy since the day the former had moved in, they were all tactile touches and resembled moony, lovestruck teenagers so it hadn't been hard to work out; not that it made it any less of a bitter pill to swallow. He thought he would be fine, he was used to his crushes never returning his feelings, at this point it was practically his party trick. But every time Ivy came over to the flat and he saw the way Oswald lit up around her, Ed felt a knot in the pit of his stomach that no amount of goulash could mask.
}}}}}}
"What on earth are you doing? It's 2am Ed," If Ed found his heart melting like a teenage girl's when in Oswald's presence, there was no hope for him right now, with the older man rubbing sleep from his eyes, normally immaculately styled hair pointing up in every direction possible and wearing tartan pyjamas. "Are you making goulash? Seriously? I think you need an intervention."
Ed can see Oswald's point, he very aware that is looking more unhinged by the minute, but he hadn't even started thinking as he prepped the ingredients, almost on autopilot as the day's events whirled around his mind.
"I couldn't sleep, there's too much going up in here," Ed tapped his forehead as he spoke, well aware that he was probably covered in red sauce now, which would not be helping his case. "There's a big case on at work at the moment and I can't stop thinking about it. Cooking helps me to think through it, Barbara was normally always awake herself at this time so she didn't care, I forget that some people keep normal sleeping patterns."
"That's less concerning, still a bit weird but logical," Oswald nodded after a moment, shuffling over to the kettle and flicking the switch. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No don't be silly Oswald, you should just go back to bed, like you said it's late," Ed bit his lip, shame rising as he realised what an inconvenience he was being. "I'll just clear all this stuff away and-"
"Stew on whatever's bothering you for the rest of the night? What sort of friend would I be if I let you do that?" Oswald grabbed two cups from the cupboard, spooning a generous teaspoon of coffee into each. "And you never know, attempt number 12 may just be it."
Attempt number 12 wasn't the winning recipe, but as Ed sat talking with Oswald till the sun started to rise, drinking one too many cups of coffee as they shared tale after tale he couldn't find it in himself to mind. He didn't think Oswald did either.
}}}}}}}}}
"Guess what I've got," Oswald called out in a sing-song voice as Ed walked through the front door, waving a small, rectangular package in the air.
"Rocket boots? Ooh or maybe gas pellets? That'd be one way to shut Mrs Connolly up."
"This game isn't fun if you're going to just make stupid suggestions," Oswald pouted, rolling his eyes in such a dramatic fashion that only he could pull off.
"I'm sorry Oswald, tell me what it is you have. I won't make fun anymore."
"Ta-da!" Oswald removed the object from the box to show it to Ed who took a step closer.
"Is that?"
"The new Avengers film? I pre-ordered it weeks ago and it arrived this afternoon. I was thinking we could make a night of it, you know how I love a superhero movie. I've got some snacks in but I was thinking we could order pizza or something too, Ivy's coming round to watch it so we'll have to wait on ordering till then."
Ed didn't think it was possible for his mood to change so quickly, as all visions he had been entertaining of lounging on the sofa with Oswald, working up the courage to lean his head on his shoulder or wrap an arm around him like they did in the cliché movies was ripped out from under him; replaced instead with Ivy and Oswald snuggling together whilst Ed was pushed to the side with only a bowl of popcorn for company.
"Actually I completely forgot but I made plans with Barbara tonight. In fact, I should be leaving to meet her now," Ed turned, barely remembering to grab his wallet from the side as he reached for the door.
"Well we can do it another night," Oswald called after him, Ed could hear him moving to follow him but with his limp there'd be no hope Oswald would be able to catch up.
"Don't bother, I wouldn't want to ruin yours and Ivy's fun," Ed snapped over his shoulder, aware that his tone was harsher than it needed to be, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. As the door slammed behind him Ed swore he heard Oswald asking him to stop and come back, his tone upset, but he shrugged it off. He was probably just imagining things anyway.
}}}}}}}}
"Oh hell no," Tabitha Galavan spat as Ed walked into The Sirens. Even though it was still early most of the booths were full of customers, all dressed to the nines and at least a bottle of wine down each. "Get out Nygma."
"Nice to see you too Tabby," Ed relished the last word, knowing that only Barbara could get away with calling the hot-headed woman that. The pair had never been able to get along, it mostly had to do with a disastrous kitchen incident where Tabby had almost lost her hand a few years back, but she wasn't the sort of person to forgive and forget. Knowing this, Ed took joy making sly jibes at her every time he was forced to spend time in her presence, which due to his friendship with Barbara, was more often than he liked. "But surprisingly I'm not here to bask in your presence. Where's your much better half?"
"Barbara's not in. She'll be gone all night, so scram."
"Now, now didn't your mother ever tell you not to lie," Ed leant against the bar, tutting condescendingly. Tabitha breathed deeply, no doubt trying to restrain herself from punching him, her hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were starting to go white. "You're three nights away from your biggest event of the year, Barbara may have commitment issues at the best of times but she wouldn't leave this place in the lurch. Not after she pumped most of her inheritance into it to get it running."
Tabitha's silence was answer enough for Ed. "Not playing nice, I see how it is. Say, I've got a little something for you to mull over. My first part compliments people. My second makes things known. My third hurts feelings. My fou-"
"How about I shove this hand that I still have no thanks to you, where the sun doesn't shine up your jumped up-"
"Ladies, ladies," Barbara's voice cut through the music clear as day, Tabitha freezing where she had abruptly stood. "If you can't keep it civil I'm going to have to ask security to remove you. And where would the fun be in that?"
"I'm going to get some air," Tabitha snapped, the end of her ponytail hitting Ed in the face as she turned. "When I'm back he better not be here still."
"Nice speaking to you Tabs, we should do this again sometime," Ed yelled at her retreating figure, smirking when she flipped him the bird over her shoulder. "She really needs to work on her customer service."
"Oh I don't know, I think it's hot," Barbara smirked, taking the newly vacated seat and motioning the barman over. "Now what's up Nygma? You're looking even more frazzled than normal. I'll be honest with you, it's not a good look."
As Ed made his way through two grasshoppers at a swift pace he filled Barbara in on his current dilemma, hoping that he wasn't sounding as desperate and weird to the blonde as he was to his own ears. The look on her face told him it was probably worse than even he thought.
"You know I didn't ever see Ozzie swinging for a gal like Ivy," Barbara said when Ed had finished his depressing tale.
"Tell me about it, she's way too ditzy for him," Ed grimaced, pulling a shot over to him and downing it in one. Already the edges of his vision were going blurry, but the thought of Oswald and Ivy together in the empty flat was no less painful. More alcohol was definitely needed then.
"Let me get this straight, you're sat here on a Tuesday night, drowning your sad little sorrows because Ozzie and queen of the daffodils are the being all lovey-dovey like the next Elton John and Renate Blauel in your own god-damned flat!"
"It's Oswald's place too, and that… that comparison is awful," Ed said, trying to play back Barbara's words again to see if they made any more sense the second time round. They didn't, but he wasn't 100% certain whether that was due to the alcohol more than anything.
"There really is no hope for you is there," Barbara said, rolling her eyes. She motioned for more drinks, a smirk on her face. "But drunk Ed is by far my favourite version of you, so let's keep the drinks flowing shall we? You never know, we may just find someone to help you forget about your little Oswald problem."
"Never," Ed slurred, reaching over the bar for his next drink and almost falling out of his chair in the process. "It's impossible."
"Oh I think you'll find that's all you sweetheart," Barbara laughed, steadying the older man with a hand to the shoulder and leaning in close, so he could feel her breath on the shell of his ear. "By the way, for someone as smart as you're meant to be, you're not half dumb Ed."
Before he could ask what she meant by that, Ed felt bile rising up to his throat and stood to make a shaky run to the toilets.
}}}}}}}
For one glorious minute Ed genuinely thought he had managed to drink most of The Sirens dry and get away without a hangover. But then he opens his eyes and it feels like he's being stabbed in the head.
"Ughhhh," Ed groaned, immediately regretting it as his hangover only worsened.
"Oh good you're awake," a voice from his bedroom door said. Taking a bracing breath Ed turned his head to see Oswald leaning against the frame, looking entirely too smug. "I was worried you'd never wake up."
"What time is it?" Ed asked, shutting his eyes in an attempt to ride out the waves of nausea.
"A little after one."
"What?" he squawked, sitting bolt upright before promptly crashing back down. "Oh fuck, I am so going to be fired, fuck fuck fuck."
"I called first thing this morning to let them know you're sick. After the state you were in last night there was no way you'd be able to make it to your work, let alone chop up bodies."
"Oswald have I ever told you how much I love you?" Ed patted the side of the bed, motioning for him to take a seat. "Because I really, really do."
"Noted," the older man replied, a smirk toying at the corner of his lips.
"How was the film last night?" Ed asked once he was certain that there was less chance of him throwing up.
"It was good, Ivy didn't quite appreciate it but she grinned and bared it."
"She's a little star like that," Ed was fairly certain the bitterness in his tone was easy to read, but Oswald didn't seem to pick up on it. "I'm sorry if I woke you both when I came in. Or interrupted."
"Oh no it was just me who was privy to your little show last night. Ivy was long gone."
"She didn't stay?"
"After she slept on the sofa last time she was moaning about her back for weeks, I offered to take it of course, but she wasn't having any of it with my leg."
"Why didn't she just stay in your bed?"
"Because that is a recipe for the world's worst night sleep between her snoring and my apparent sleep kicking," Oswald snorted, looking down and checking his phone so that he completely missed the confused look on Ed's face.
Sure, he knew that not all couples liked to share beds at night, but Ed had always thought it was those who were old and hated the sight of each other but were too lazy to split up, ala his parents. Oswald and Ivy didn't tick either of those boxes, he had seen them all over each other one too many times to know that they certainly didn't hate each other. Maybe this hangover really was rotting more brain cells than he realised.
"You can't stay stewing in here all day," Oswald stood as he spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped the room. "It smells like death."
"I'm too weak to move," Ed covered his eyes with his arm in the hopes that the intense sunlight that Oswald was letting in would be slightly shielded. It wasn't, and his head felt ten times worse.
"I'm not asking for you to run a marathon, but maybe to the sofa? We can actually watch the Avengers this time."
"Might as well be," Ed groused but after a month of living with Oswald he knew it best not argue with him. He hadn't killed off that many brain cells. After an embarrassingly long time, and one too many pitstops to make sure he didn't vomit back up all the alcohol The Sirens owned, Ed made it to the sofa, slumping down to the cool floor and leaning his head against the base.
"Not quite what I meant, but close enough," Oswald chuckled, setting up the movie before sitting on the sofa, instead of next to it.
As the opening credits rolled Ed rested his head against the top cushion, his relaxed stance immediately stiffening when he realised he could feel Oswald's knee. Turning his head up Ed realised that the older man wasn't sat on the other side of the sofa like he had first thought, but directly behind him. His good leg was crossed in front of him, whilst his bad was stretched out over the rest of the settee.
"You're going to love this film, I can't believe you still haven't seen it," Oswald said, and Ed quickly looked back to the screen so that he wouldn't be caught staring. So aware of how near Oswald was to him made it impossible to get fully immersed in the film, they had never been so close before and Ed thought his heart was going to give out at any second.
Despite how he was with Ivy, Oswald was not a touchy-feely person and neither was Ed, as an unwritten rule they both kept to their personal space and that had always been fine, this was different, certainly different, but Ed knew he'd never complain.
A pressure on his head made him jump before he realised Oswald was running his fingers through his hair. "I've never seen it without gel in," he said, voice low and barely audible over the movie. "I like it."
"Makes me look like a boy scout," Ed breathed, and fuck this should not feel as good as it does, but it really, really did.
"It's cute," Oswald said, and although he didn't laugh Ed could hear the smile in his voice. Nothing more was said between the two, they just continue to watch the movie, but Ed can feel him limbs getting heavier and his eyes drooping. He doesn't know when he falls asleep, but when he does the TV is halfway through another film and Oswald is still playing with his hair.
}}}}}}}}
Even in college Ed had never been a big drinker. Once a month max he may go out, and only when being blackmailed. Two times in the space of one week was practically unheard of, but it was The Sirens annual summer celebrations, and Barbara had way too much blackmail material for Ed not to at least show his face.
Luckily, he had convinced Oswald to come with him, and by an even bigger stroke of luck Ivy had rejected her boyfriend's invite when she had popped around the flat earlier, a mischievous glint in her eye as she wished them a good time. Ed couldn't say that he'd miss her.
As they enter the club he can feel eyes on them both from all directions, but it's hardly surprising. He's donned the bright green suit Barbara had bought him for his birthday. It's loud and obnoxious but he must admit he loves it. But it's Oswald who is truly breath-taking. His hair, as always was immaculately styled, a strand purposefully left to fall over his forehead. On arrival he had shed his suit jacket, revealing the magnificent purple waistcoat underneath. Ed simultaneously loves and hates that it compliments what he's wearing perfectly.
"Eddie! Ozzie! My two favourite boys," Barbara had spotted them immediately, handing over a glass to each of them. "Don't you two look a picture, you might even outdo me and Tabs for cutest couple." She laughed, ignoring Ed's glare to tuck a stray blonde lock behind her ear.
"Don't you have an event to host?" Ed asked through gritted teeth, pointedly not looking at Oswald who was shooting him a confused look.
Barbara considered them for a second, eyeing the pair up like a lioness does a gazelle before pouncing on it. Ed didn't move, not looking away or even daring to blink. He must have done something right, because she grabs a drink from a passing waiter and leaves to greet more guests, though not before whispering 'Don't do anything I wouldn't,' into Ed's ear, her mouth grazing the shell.
"Two years of living with her and you think I'd be able to handle her better," he said, trying for a joke but suspecting that it fell flat.
"I don't think anyone can handle Barbara Kean. And anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool," Oswald said, taking a generous swig of his drink, almost finishing it. "Another?"
"If I'm to survive tonight, definitely," Ed grinned, leaning in close to properly hear the shorter man. "And if being Barbara's former flatmate has any perks, it's that I get all drinks on the house. Come on."
}}}}}}}
"Shhhshhhshh," Ed batted at Oswald in an attempt to get him to quieten down whilst also trying to unlock the front door. Neither attempts were going very well. Oswald was still singing Taylor Swift at the top of his lungs, both obnoxiously and very out of tune, and the front door was remaining very locked. "You're going to get us in so much trouble, Mrs Connolly hates us already, you should have… aha!"
The door swung open and Ed just about managed to stay standing as he went with it, kicking off his shoes with little care where they landed. That could be tomorrow's problem
"Success!" Oswald crowed, pulling off his jacket and flopping onto the couch. "That was a good night, I had a good time, did you have a good time?"
"I had a great time," Ed said, sinking down next to Oswald. And it was the truth. For the whole night it had pretty much just been them, and sure they spent a lot of time one-on-one in the flat but never in public. No, they were always with others like Ivy or Victor, but even though the club was rammed, Ed felt like it was just them for most of the night.
He doesn't think he'll forget the tactile touches of Oswald's hand on the small of his back as he guided him through the crowds, or the way their fingers brushed together as they passed a glass over to the other. For one glorious moment he could pretend that it's all real, that there's no Ivy and that he and Oswald are an actual couple. It's perfection.
"What are you thinking about?" Oswald asks, his voice is quiet and husky. Turning his head, Ed realises just how close they're sat together, he can practically count the freckles dusting Oswald's nose.
"The poor have, the rich want and if you eat it you'll die," he says, wishing for nothing more that he could tell the truth. But if he did it'd ruin their friendship and he doesn't think he could bear that. He's never had a friend like Oswald, and although every fibre of his being wants… no needs for it to be something more, he knows he'll just have to make do.
"Nothing?" Oswald guessed, surprisingly quick despite all that he had drank. "You're such a mystery Ed, but I don't believe you're ever thinking of just nothing."
Ed knows he should move away, should stand and go to the toilet, do anything to break the atmosphere that has surrounded them, but he doesn't. Instead he stays silent, not looking away from Oswald for even a second, drinking in every little thing he can about the older man and relishing every second.
Ed wasn't sure who leaned in first, or whether they both did in sync, but one second they're not kissing and the next… well they are. Oswald tasted of the merlot he'd been drinking all night and Ed's head starts spinning more than it had been a second ago. He runs his hand through Oswald's hair, biting his bottom lip and Oswald moans softly. The noise goes straight to Ed's dick and he moves himself closer, hooking a leg over Oswald's waist so that he is now directly above him. Oswald pulls him closer still, hands on Ed's hips and toying with the waistband of his trousers.
"Fuck," Oswald breathed, and if Ed thought he was screwed before then he's a hundred times worse now, because hearing the older man curse does something to him that he didn't know was possible. But then it was like he was doused in cold water, reality hitting him harder than a slap in the face.
"What's wrong?" Oswald asked, feeling Ed freeze. "Is this… this is ok right?"
And it's more than ok Ed wants to say. This is perfect in fact, all that he has been dreaming of for weeks now but that would be a lie, the whole thing would be. And Ed cannot bear to live in a lie. And he cannot force Ivy to live in one either, even if she would have been unaware of the transgressions her boyfriend gets up to.
"No, no it's not actually," somehow, as he stumbles over his words he manages to get to feet, avoiding Oswald's hands that are reaching forwards to try and stop him. "We shouldn't… I can't do this."
Ignoring Oswald calling his name Ed turns. He desperately looks for his shoes, cursing his earlier self for kicking them off so carelessly but eventually he finds them. Oswald is still at the sofa, eyes wet and looking devastated. Ed feels his blood burn, how does he have any right to look like that? To look at Ed like he is the one in the wrong?
"Don't go," Is all Oswald says, his voice wet, holding back the tears. But Ed doesn't say anything, can't bear to because if he does he'll say something he regrets and can't take back. Instead he turns to the door instead, slamming it shut behind him. Already he can hear Oswald on the other side, scrambling ungracefully to the door, his already poor mobility not helped by how much he's drunk. Wiping the tears away that have already fallen he takes a bracing breath before making his way down the corridor.
He's just turned the corner when he hears the apartment door open and it takes all his strength not to turn back and forget everything when he hears the hitch in Oswald's breath and the click of the door as it shuts again.
}}}}}}}
"You look like crap," Barbara says from where she's sprawled on one of the club's booths, tracking Ed as he walks into the now-empty bar.
"So do you," he snaps back though it's a complete lie. Even though her normally immaculate hair is in disarray, her make-up still looks freshly applied. She could be locked up in a mental asylum and Barbara would still look like an angel sent down from the gods.
He goes behind the bar, grabbing a carton of unopened orange juice from the fridge and pours two generous glasses, sliding one to Barbara who's making her way over and perching on one of the stools. For as long as she's had the club she's always done this, spending the morning after there and working through the accounts, and often a hangover, as the cleaner's work around her. When she moved in with Ed, he joined in with the little tradition, even when he hadn't been out the night before.
"Why are you even here? I would have thought you'd still be cuddled up with lover boy."
"Not funny," Ed said, rubbing the crick out from his neck. "If you really want to know I spent the night on Victor's sofa."
"Trouble in paradise?"
Ed stared determinedly at his drink, not saying a word. He had never been a good liar and had quickly learnt that sometimes avoiding the question is the best bet. Not that one can ever avoid anything when Barbara is around.
"Something happened? What? Tell me everything."
"I'm so screwed," Ed moaned, hitting his head on the bar when he had finished filling in Barbara on the night before. "I can't go back there, I can't face him."
"I'm sure Ozzie will be able to look past your little freak out, especially if you apologise in other ways," Barbara said, wiggling her eyebrows when Ed looked up.
"You may have been alright with sneaking behind Butch's back with Tabitha but I'm not. She might be irritating but I can't do that to Ivy. I remember what it feels like, remember Kristen?"
"That little bitch never got what she deserved for that," Barbara said coldly, referencing Ed's ex. "Wait, Ivy?"
"Oswald's girlfriend remember? How much did you drink last night?"
"You still… oh this is golden," Barbara gasped, sitting upright. Before Ed can ask her what she means he hears the echoing beat of high heels making their way closer and announcing the arrival of Tabitha. She looks as immaculate as ever, even though Ed had seen her drink the better part of a bottle of wine the night before. How did these women do it?
"Don't you have your own home to clutter up Nygma?" she asks, swiping the last of his orange juice.
"I was just giving Eddie a little relationship advice babe," Barbara said, ignoring Ed's glare with a smirk. "He's a little lovestruck."
"Didn't know you even had a heart. Who's the unlucky victim?"
"Don't."
"Our favourite little Ozzie."
"Figures," Tabby didn't seem surprised by the revelation, appraising Ed with a stare. Barbara is still smirking, looking very much like the cat who got the cream, and he wants nothing more than the ground to swallow him up. "So why are you here instead of declaring your undying love for him?"
"Oh but babe you've forgotten, Ivy," Barbara said, shooting a pointed look at the other woman as if trying to convey a secret message. Confusion clouds Tabby's face for a couple of seconds before a dawning realisation seems to hit her. Ed wished he was privy to the same news but neither woman looked like they were willing to share if their expressions were anything to go by.
"You're such an idiot Nygma," Tabby shook her head, looking exasperated. "It's actually painful. Now piss off home, I don't want to spend my day off with you."
"You're charming, I can see why Barbara fell for you," Ed snapped, the irritability caused by his hangover worsening by being out of the loop. "But I can't go back."
"Ed just go," Barbara said, linking an arm with his and pulling him to the door. "And for the love of god, speak to Oswald."
}}}}}}}
By some miracle the flat is empty when Ed arrives. Oswald is probably over at Ivy's, he thinks without even meaning to. Pretending to be the perfect boyfriend that he definitely isn't.
"Get a grip," Ed mutters to himself. He can't keep thinking like this, it'll drive him insane. He needs something to distract himself, to keep him busy. Without thinking he moves to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients that are becoming more familiar by the day.
Quickly immersed in the task, Ed didn't hear the door open behind him, though he stiffens when he hears Oswald clearing his throat.
"What attempt are you on now?" he asks, trying to sound casual but Ed can hear the tension in his voice.
"23," Ed can't look behind him, can't bring himself to say more than one word because if he does he knows he'll break. He knows he'll beg for Oswald to give him a proper chance, to love him and to let Ed make him happy because he knows he could, and God, they'd be so happy together.
The kitchen is silent once more, but Ed knows Oswald hasn't moved from behind him, can feel his eyes boring a hole in the back of his head.
"Why did you leave last night?" Oswald asks, breaking the silence. Ed can't believe he's doing this, can't believe he feels he has the right to ask that question, not after what he's done. Does he not care how in the wrong he is? He can feel his blood boiling, his hands shaking as he stirs the mixture
"I thought… I thought that you, that we were finally-"
"Well you thought wrong," Ed snapped, turning around to face Oswald. "Why would you think I'd be ok with that? I could never. I told you about Kristen, how I was wrecked for months after I caught her with Dougherty. I'd never be able to do that to anyone else, especially not Ivy. The girl adores you, if you don't love her you need to tell her, she deserves better. You deserve better Oswald, you deserve to actually be happy."
Oswald was silent for a moment, staring at Ed like he'd grown another head, who was breathing slightly heavily from his outburst. He hadn't meant to say all that he had, but once he'd started it was impossible to stop. Not that he should regret it, no Oswald needed to hear it.
"I thought you left last night because you freaked out about what happened between us," Oswald finally said, looking like he was choosing every word he was saying very carefully. "I thought that you didn't know how to cope because we're flatmates and friends and well… I'm a guy. That you weren't interested in me and it was just the alcohol talking. But this is because of Ivy and my relationship with her."
Now it was Ed's turn to look at Oswald in bewilderment. Was he being serious? Was he genuinely questioning Ed over his unwillingness to basically be Oswald's mistress?
"I'm crazy about you!" Ed exclaimed, slamming the wooden spoon down on the counter. And wow, maybe he is still drunk because he did not mean to reveal that. But he has and fuck it, what else has he got left to lose now? "I have been the second we met. And last night was the best night I've had in a long time and I'll probably go crazy thinking about it and how we could be something really special but that doesn't stop you being with Ivy."
"You're such an idiot," Oswald said, an exasperated smile toying at his lips.
"I'm getting really sick of people calling me that," Ed muttered, crossing his arms defensively. "First Barbara, then Tabby and now you. Sorry for having morals."
"Wait why did they… no it doesn't matter," Oswald interrupted himself and took a step forward. If Ed could he would take a step back, keeping his distance from the older man was the smart thing to do but he had already backed himself up into the corner of his kitchen. "What does matter is that you really need to start checking your facts. Ivy and I are not together Ed, we never have been. She's like a little sister to me."
"But… no that doesn't make sense," Ed blinked, trying to figure out what Oswald was saying, his heart beating furiously in his chest. But he casts his mind back, realising with a startling realisation that he doesn't think he's ever seen Oswald and Ivy ever kiss. Or share a bed. And he'd never walked in on them or heard… questionable noises coming from Oswald's room. Could this really be happening? "You're not lying are you? Because I don't know how I'll cope if you are."
This time when Oswald takes a step forward Ed isn't tempted to move away, his eyes solely on the man in front of him, captivated.
"You're always so dramatic Ed," he said softly, tone hushed. "But no I'm not. And actually, I'm crazy about you too."
Ed didn't think it possible, but their second kiss is even better than their first.
}}}}}}}}}}
Hours later Ed spoons a generous portion of goulash into two bowls, passing one over to Oswald who had been laying the table.
"I always knew your former flatmate was a harpy but to make you think that Ivy and I were an item when she knew that we weren't is another level."
"It's Barbara, it's what she does for fun," Ed shrugged. Normally he would be mad, thinking up scheme after scheme to get his revenge but he can't find it in himself to. He hasn't been able to stop smiling all afternoon, so happy he thinks he could genuinely float. Even now, just sat at the table his stomach is doing somersaults as his foot nudges Oswald's, who nudges him back. "How's the goulash?"
Oswald put down his spoon, chewing slowly as he wiped at his mouth with a napkin. "My first is in preheat but not in heather. My second is in sailplane but not in spinal. My third in savoriness but not evasion. My fourth in foreign but not region. My fifth in jute but not in jut. My sixth is in resistance but not intrastate. My seventh is in nascent but not in seance."
"Perfect?" Ed guessed after a moment, unable to stop the smile gracing his features.
"I'm sorry it wasn't as sophisticated as yours, but yes. This is perfect. Attempt number 23 is perfect."