So, there's not exactly a perfect timeline for this, so roll with my mistakes as they come...
Edward notices the hickeys on Oswald's neck the next day, because of course he does.
And of course, it causes some problems.
Oswald has only just started in on his English pea salad when Edward drops down onto the bench in front of them, startling Oswald into spilling his forkful of food back onto the tray with a jolt. Jerome doesn't seem to mind, or at least he isn't voicing any irritation over Ed's sudden presence. His eyes had widened a mere fraction when Ed sat down, but he hadn't reacted with more than a raised eyebrow before stuffing a spoonful of pudding into his mouth.
"So," Ed starts charismatically, smile stretched to his ears as he makes himself comfortable at their table, twirling his spork between his fingers with the same impish charm Oswald used to find hard to resist, "Are you two..?" he questions, gesturing between them with a seemingly casual wave of his hand.
"Yes."
"No." Oswald forces out at the same time, a little surprised with himself at its urgency.
The body behind him stiffens ever so slightly, and Oswald hesitantly wonders if he's upset Jerome.
He catches Edward's cocky gaze easily. Ed is staring just past Oswald with an unreadable expression, clearly holding a look with Jerome as they size each other up. Jerome must indicate something with his face because when he shifts back to looking at Oswald, his grin has grown impossibly wider. But his smile isn't pleasant or at all friendly. Oswald recognizes the sneer on Ed for what it was, a cocky attempt to hide how he really felt. It was the same one he used when feigning indifference towards something that quite clearly upset him. The first time he'd played Oswald, pretending that he didn't hate him after finding out what he'd done to Isabella, he'd worn that unpleasant grin. Oswald doesn't completely understand why he's wearing it now.
A hand slips over Oswald's stomach as Jerome drops his chin onto Oswald's shoulder. He can almost feel Jerome's smile against him, the one that's all teeth and doesn't reach his eyes. It's irritated and forced and Oswald knows he's just fucked up big time. Something fierce is brewing between the two men and Oswald is, quite literally, stuck in the middle of it.
"No," Jerome repeats, a tauntingly tight tone twisting within the curls of his cut lips, "We're not in a relationship..." he elaborates, "But Pengy here is my obedient little bitch."
Jerome takes the next moment to chomp down hard on the tip of Oswald's ear and Oswald is so startled that he yelps. It's embarrassing... and it's only because he's sure Jerome would move Oswald's arms away just to embarrass him further that he doesn't try to cover his face with his hands.
Ed's smile falters just a little, Oswald can see it, but Ed merely cocks his head to the side. "Must be a terribly boring lay," he sneers, "what with the limp."
He practically spits out the last word, punctuating the pop of the 'p' for all it's worth and it hurts. Oswald's chest is pounding and he wants to reach across the table and throttle Ed. He wants to rip that cocky smile right off his face with his very dull nails. It had stung when Jerome called him his bitch, certainly, but Oswald wouldn't have expected anything else from someone like Jerome. Ed had been his friend. He'd loved Edward. He's about to stand up and leave but Jerome's arm tightens impossibly around him and holds him right where he is.
"Actually, he's real enthusiastic," Jerome replies cheerily. He slips the hand at his stomach under Oswald's shirt and trails it all the way up to his neck, tenderly wrapping his fingers around Oswalds throat. The movement rucks up Oswald's top and leaves him looking a little debauched as Jerome continues, "and I just hold his legs above his head myself when I fuck him."
If Oswald wasn't so breathless he'd scream at Jerome.
And then Ed.
They're both being impossibly horrible towards him and Oswald doesn't know why.
He feels the unexplainable need to tell Edward that they have not actually had sex. Jerome is just tugging on his chain, trying to get a reaction out of him. He opens his mouth to say as much, head pounding with the frustration of it all, but Edward is already speaking, venom laced in every hurtful word as he leans forward to rest his chin atop his folded hands.
"Does he still cry and talk about his feelings ?"
And that's it.
That's the last hit that Oswald can take today.
The final straw breaks under the weight of their scrutiny and Oswald has had it. His eyes sting with hatred and he needs to leave before either of them get the chance to see his moment of weakness. He shoves Jerome back with all his strength, knocking him right off the bench and onto the floor with an "oompf". Jerome is cackling when Oswald stands, glaring at Ed, who looks extremely surprised to see Jerome on the ground and unangered. Oswald doesn't wait for Ed to look at him before he strikes him hard across the cheek . The action recaptures his attention completely anyway.
There's a satisfying red glow sprouting over Ed's cheek when he recovers, gaping up at Oswald like he's grown another head.
Oswald doesn't apologize.
He stares Ed down and does his best to let his disgust project as he bites out curses, "Fuck you, Edward Nygma. Fuck. You."
He turns before Edward can reply and limps away with his fists clenched at his sides, Jerome's hysterics only getting louder as he goes. Curse them. Curse them both.
Now that Edward is at Arkham, Oswald has no excuse to write out his feelings and frustrations in the form of a letter. He's lost his outlet. He could always pretend... write a letter up and then just toss it into the bin once he was finished... but it feels like too cold of an action now. He enjoyed thinking someone would read his words and possibly understand him. He liked pretending Ed would sympathize. Besides that, writing to Edward about Edward seems like it would kill the fire he wants so desperately to let out. He would write to Martin, but he had no doubt that Sofia would intercept any sent mail for him. Oswald was certainly not ready to risk dispelling any of his personal life to someone like her.
So he sits alone in his room, sulking on the bed with his arms crossed over his knees.
Oswald feels so lost and angry, hurt and alone. He might have liked to talked to Jerome, but you couldn't very well talk to someone when the problem involved them. He could limit himself to discussing Edward only, but it seems like the wrong thing to be venting to Jerome about... As close as they had gotten in the past months, he still has reservations about letting Jerome into his personal life.
When Oswald's cell lock clicks and the door begins to slowly creak open, he expects to see Jerome on the other side. Jerome coming to visit him was nothing new. He liked visiting Oswald, had a key, and who else would it be?
Oswald has a moment of panicked hesitance, thinking maybe they were going to take him away for 'therapy' again. Maybe he really had pissed off Jerome when he pushed him, like he feared. Maybe his safety had been too good to last and now he was going to be tossed right back into the real runnings of Arkham.
When the door finally opens all the way open, it isn't a doctor.
It isn't Jerome either.
Edward stands awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before he finally takes a couple cautious steps inside.
Oswald gapes up at him. "How did you-?"
"Guard's an old friend from the GCPD," Ed offers quickly, shutting the cell door behind himself once he was inside.
Oswald scoffs, crude, "You didn't have friends at the GCPD."
If Ed was bothered by his intentionally coarse words, he didn't show it. Instead he smiled rather politely, clasping his hands together behind his back and straightening his posture in a way that meant he was taking on the attitude of The Riddler, the meticulous and cruel villain and no longer Ed, the sweet and hopeless nerd from the M.E.'s office.
"I advised him on how to keep his girlfriend a secret," Ed says simply, "from both his wife and his mistress."
Oswald's brow shot up and he couldn't help but huff out a little chuckle. It had to have been an amusing situation to find your co-worker in. Oswald had never held enough temperament or patience to try and keep one woman, let alone three. When Ed's expression turns fond, Oswald quickly turns himself away. He doesn't want to see anything that reminds him of the days he and Ed were still chummy. He doesn't need any painful memories confusing him while he attempts to hold a grudge.
And Oswald is still mad.
The Penguin would have promised to take his revenge against them both, full of spite and anger, but right now Oswald doesn't feel much like the dreaded Penguin of Gotham. He feels insignificant and confused. His feelings are a jumbled mush pulling him this way and that and he doesn't like it. He wants nothing more than to drop his head into his mother's lap and confess what troubles he's going through. He wants to decompress as she runs her fingers through his hair and offers endearing words in another language. He doesn't feel like being the Penguin, he feels like plain old Oswald.
It rattles him that he's so weak right now.
Oswald knows if he starts to dwell on his mother he'll go crazy. There's enough going on without returning to the pain of losing her. He debates threatening Ed until he leaves, maybe with some of Jerome's powerful influence, but he rethinks that idea rather quickly. Oswald still doesn't know if he'd offended Jerome too badly at lunch. He might very well have lost his good standing with the man over that. Who knows... Jerome was as unpredictable as the sea and twice as likely to drown Oswald if he really was upset.
Oswald bit the inside of his cheek and ordered himself to stop with that line of thinking.
"What do you want, Ed?"
Edward shifts his weight awkwardly from one foot the other, not looking at Oswald. There's a small moment of silence between them before Ed finally decides to answer. "I'm sorry," he says hesitantly, voice low, and it almost feels like he'd fought with himself in order to say it.
Oswald has no idea how to react to it.
There's too much history between them for him to outright believe that Edward is truly apologetic. The Riddler uses manipulation as his main method of getting what he wants, what's to say this isn't simply that? Oswald frowns, glaring up at Edward before snapping at him bitterly, "Don't tell me you're sorry if you don't mean it."
"I do mean it," Edward replies, an unusual expression on his face.
Oswald would almost call it remorseful, if he didn't know Ed so well. He thinks on it, keeping his glare level as he pushes for more. "Why did you say those horrible things?" he starts, trying to mask the hurt in his voice, "What drove you to... My limp, Edward. You know how I feel about that, and yet you..."
"...I was angry."
"Why?"
Ed doesn't answer. He lets his hands drop from behind and goes back to awkwardly moving himself around in lieu of a reply. Oswald used to think Ed's occasional nervousness was cute, but right now it's just mildly annoying.
He wants to fight out this issue with him, let Ed know how angry he is and ask him why he can't just forgive Oswald and then they can get past this awful tension between them. He wants them to yell at each other, waste their energy with arguing until they're both too tired to hold onto the careful facades they continually keep. When they've completely exhausted each other then they'll be able to talk like normal human beings, Oswald can let his guard down and actually speak with Edward.
When he realizes that Ed's not going to answer him, he decides to ask another question. He sighs, deflated, before raising his head slightly, "Did you ever go to check on Martin?"
Edward's jittery movement stills and he actually manages to crack a small smile. "Cute kid," he says, and Oswald's hope soars. "He's at Sofia's orphanage right now, safe, but I think he knows that something is off."
It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. He stands to make his way to Ed, his worry for Martin taking priority over his frustrations with the man. "Did you talk to him?" he rushes out.
"He misses you..." Ed replies, staring at Oswald with surprised, wide eyes as he gets closer, before clearing his throat and adjusting his composure. "He asked how you were. I gave him a few of your letters."
"You gave him my letters?"
"Only ones that were appropriate... and wouldn't worry him." Ed smirks then, "He liked your riddle."
Oswald hates that he immediately wants to know what Ed thought of it. "Did you get it?"
"Penguins," he smiles, "the answer was penguins."
Oswald can't keep the small grin off his face. "Of course. I knew you would get it." He shakes his head, backing off a step or two as he realizes how close he's gotten. "Thank you, Ed."
"Is he why you didn't escape? I'm sure Jerome could've gotten you out at any time," Ed says, somewhat cautious, "He seems to run the place."
He nods, "I can't leave until I know how to take care of Sofia. I won't put Martin at risk." Oswald sighs and adds, for no particular reason, "We... didn't actually have sex."
Edward's eyes have widened again, and Oswald finds he's enjoying repeatedly throwing Ed off, "You've got hickeys." he points out with a huff, gesturing to Oswald's neck.
Oswald raises a startled hand to the bite; he'd forgotten it was there. He might be blushing, but Oswald does his best not to seem too embarrassed as he admits to them having... 'helped each other out' now and then, but he's quick to push that they haven't done more than that.
Edward's seems very tightly wound, expression well schooled as he carefully asks, "Does he... He doesn't force you to-?"
"Oh no! It's not like that." Oswald insists, raising a hand to stop Edward from finishing his sentence, "...He's been very good to me."
"So you let him touch you as, what, thanks?"
Oswald tries not to read into how that makes him sound. He's not wrong, that was how it had started. Oswald had let Jerome do as he pleased because he wanted to keep a hold of the privileges that came with it, but that had changed some time ago. "It's not like that anymore..." he settles with, hoping Edward will stop asking about it.
He's not in the mood to try and dissect his strange relationship with Jerome just now.
"...Okay." Edward offers, that odd expression on his face again.
Oswald nods decisively, grateful to be moving past that sensitive topic of conversation. He's still standing near Edward, closer than he's been in... possibly years. He should definitely be scared of Edward taking out his vengeance, but some of the tension between them has dwindled. Oswald isn't naive enough to believe that everything has magically become better between them, but this... this feels like a start. Oswald decides on a whim to test his luck, shuffling forward to wrap his arms around Edward's middle before Ed can protest.
He doesn't say anything even as Edward stiffens beneath his grip. He's surprised, clearly, Oswald himself is a little amazed. He's in the perfect position for Ed to drive a shiv into his back. It would be so easy, and Oswald is utterly defenseless. Oswald flinches when Ed finally moves.
But he doesn't stab Oswald. He doesn't kill him or threaten to inflict any damage.
Instead, Edward hesitantly returns the hug.
A rush of air forces itself out of Oswald's throat, nearly choking with relief. Edward is hugging him back….
"I..." Ed starts, voice cracking slightly before he manages the rest, "missed you, Oswald…."
There's no way to tell if it's just the atmosphere that finally breaks Oswald down, if it's Edward's omission or simply the fact that Ed hugged him back , but Oswald gives up. All the things Oswald has been wanting to say to him since he started writing those stupid letters comes out in a rush. It's raw, vulnerable, and Oswald would curse himself for letting his guard down so low in front of Ed again but all he can think of is the words flying out of his mouth.
"I missed you so much, Ed." Oswald blubbers out, "I didn't know if you even bothered to read my letters but... but I always hoped . I tried so hard to just stay angry at you but I don't think that I can. I don't want to . I want to go back to the friendship we once had and I know you may not feel the same but I want to try anyway. Will you ever be able to forgive me for-?"
Edward pulls Oswald's head in close to his chest to shush him. He's smiling, Oswald realizes. "I can't promise that I'll be able to completely forgive you anytime soon, Oswald... but I promise I will try."
It's not everything that Oswald could ever wish for, but damn it, it's a big step forward. He has a million questions he wants to ask, starting with Edward's thoughts on his letters, but he's unable to get anything out before Edward is stepping back.
"We should... start working on a plan," Edward says before Oswald can speak, "I've been studying Sofia for a while now. I can help."
"What a good idea!" a third party sings, and Oswald jumps. "She sounds like an absolutely bitch ."
Jerome's voice, filtering through the vents nearly knocks the two off balance with surprise. Edward looks like he's just encountered a ghost, eyes darting around the room with confusion before Oswald limps over to the vent on the opposite wall and stares up at Ed, amused. "I told you in my letters-"
"I forgot."
"Well, I'm really hurt," Jerome says, sarcastic tone echoing into their room. "Forgetting about me," he gasps, "the nerve. Hope I'm not missing out on the party over there! Better not be having too muchfun."
Edward looks completely chastised, looking at Oswald apologetically as he sighs, "I'll talk with you more about this tomorrow, Oswald." And he turns to leave without any more than a simple nod.
Once he's gone, the door is shut and the guards call finally call for lights out, Oswald sinks down the wall until he's sitting beside the vent. He sighs audiabaly, leaning his head against his shoulder and letting his eyes drift shut, suddenly feeling rather exhausted. "I wasn't expecting that."
A snort comes from the other side of the vent, "Well don't look at me. I'm not a magician. Only played one for a night."
Oswald smirks, shaking his head once before blurting out, "I didn't upset you too badly at lunch today, did I?" he takes a breath, "When I pushed you?"
Jerome sounds a little terse as he coos, "As sweet as it is that you worry about lil ol' me, where's that powerful little kingpin I remember? I like him better. Like the ruthless type more than the distressed damsel thing."
Frowning, Oswald tucks a knee up to his chest, "I won't ask next time then."
"Good." There's a moment of pause, then the telltale click of Jerome's tongue, "Don't get soft on me now, Ozzie, baby. Ya can't afford that in here."
Oswald huffs, taking on as confident an air as he can, "You let me. You like being the strong one."
The silence that follows is hesitant, and Oswald wonders for a moment if he's overstepped. When he cranes his neck to peek through the vent, his eyes catch Jerome's, looking more worn than they had earlier that day. He settles back onto his arm, lying on his side as he gives Oswald a meaningful look, "Not gonna be around to run the show for you pretty soon. You're gonna have to start flapping your wings on your own again."
Oswald tries to shove away the feeling of warmth that floods his chest as he's reminded again that Jerome cares for his well being. "I'll be okay."
Jerome hums, "You think riddle man is gonna have your back out there?"
"I don't know..." Oswald answers honestly, "I never thought he'd be able to forgive me at all... but... he said he would try."
"Think he was tellin' the truth?"
Oswald sighs, letting his head hang tiredly again as he leans against the wall beside the vent, "I'd like to believe he was."
Jerome is quiet again. The silence is companionable though, and Oswald doesn't feel the need to break it. He's grown used to the silent moments where Jerome just thinks. He's only a little surprised when Jerome huffs, voice sounding just a tad distant as he asks, almost as an afterthought, "You still carry a torch for him, dontcha?"
"No," Oswald answers first, on impulse more than anything else, then shakes his head even though Jerome can't see it, "...Maybe."
Jerome hums once in acknowledgement, and when he takes up silence again. Oswald waits patiently for his thought out response, wondering during the quiet moments of waiting how Jerome will react. He holds his breath for what feels like hours, but Jerome is quiet for the rest of the night, and eventually he gives up to waddle back to his own bed.
When Oswald heads to his private shower there's a guard posted outside, nodding silently to him before Oswald enters the locker rooms. Jerome doesn't come to join him, Ed doesn't come to talk about their plans, and Oswald realises it's actually first shower he's had alone in a long time.
He lets himself remember the safety of the guard in the hall, and relaxes under the warm water.
When he goes to lunch, Oswald finds Edward already sitting at their table across from Jerome. Jerome smiles up at Oswald as he nears, but his usual cheery grin seems just a little off. He quickly notices that his tray is sitting beside Jerome today, no longer set for him where he can easily reach it from Jerome's lap. He realizes then why the setting feels unusual. Jerome isn't expecting Oswald to sit between his legs today, just beside him.
It's weird to sit alone again. There's no warm wall of protection caged around him, no shield of safety encircling him so he can enjoy his meal in peace. Oswald decides immediately that he doesn't like it. He wonders if he could just slide over into his usual seat anyway, but Jerome's elbows are planted on the table, one on either side of his tray as he eats, closing off Oswald's coveted seat, so he stays where he is.
"Are there any ideas you've already got?" Edward asks, breaking the silence at the table, question directed at Oswald, "You've been here for a while, I'm sure you had time to think something up."
"A few..." he states simply, poking at the crepes he knows would be absolutely delicious if he only felt hungry. "Nothing solid or well formed though. I've been... kind of preoccupied. I also haven't had a chance to contact anyone outside."
"I'll get a phone," Jerome says, chewing on a bite from his nearly comically sized stack of pancakes. Extra syrupy.
Oswald glances at him, "You can do that?'
Jerome snorts. Of course he can.
Oswald's little smile is enough to warrant a returned smirk from Jerome, and for a moment Oswald forgets Ed is watching them diligently from the other side of the table.
"Well, we should probably start throwing around some ideas," he says, snapping Oswald out of the moment.
Jerome stuffs another bite into his mouth and says nothing, staring at Ed like he's challenging him to comment on it. He doesn't, but he returns the look with a tight glare.
They spend most of the breakfast period tossing out a few lackluster ideas, some crazier than others (Thank you, Jerome). Mostly they're half cocked or too extravagant to be practical. Send in a mole to steal Martin away in the night, ship him off to some foreign country where Sofia can't find him again. Edward suggests having someone donate a sizeable amount of money and becoming a board member to better infiltrate, or having someone adopt Martin. Oswald does his best not to cringe when he thinks about having some stranger adopt Martin, but the others seem to catch it anyway.
Jerome jokingly says it would be easier if the kid was just gone, and Oswald tries very hard not to think about what he would do if Martin died.
"It'd just be easier," Jerome says in defence when Edward glares at him, "You could always just pretend to kill em'."
And that idea finally catches everyone's attention.
"How would I do that?" Oswald asks, curious in spite of how much he hates the idea of a dead Martin.
Jerome chuckles and tosses his arms behind his head, apparently having eaten his fill. "I've always been a fan of a good car bomb."
"Something like that would take a while to really flesh out..." Edward admits, looking at Oswald with a sorry expression.
"I can wait," Oswald says quickly, not even having to think about it, "I can stand Arkham another few months if that's what it takes to get Martin back safely."
When recreational time rolls around, Oswald finds Ed present as well, standing along the wall that Oswald had once occupied when he first came to be under Jerome's thumb. He doesn't stop to say hello, but he does nod once on his way over to Jerome. When he gets there, he's surprised to see the seat on the floor beside Jerome unoccupied. Jerome's posture is once again closed off, just like it had been at lunch, and it becomes clear that Oswald is once again expected to sit somewhere else.
He remembers lunch, the discomfort he'd felt without that wall of safety Jerome's handsy presence behind him had offered. He doesn't want to deal with that again.
Jerome looks up at him expectantly when Oswald doesn't immediately sit on the floor, one eyebrow raised and a question about to form on his lips, and Oswald makes his decision.
He smacks Jerome's hand off of his thigh and gestures for him to sit up. He's confused, but he obeys, leaning back and opening Oswald's usual space back up to him. When Oswald takes his usual seat and leans back against Jerome's warm chest, he feels Jerome's entire body uncoil. He feels like he's won somehow when Jerome starts to laugh. Oswald is proud of himself, and lets his shoulders slump when Jerome wraps a familiar arm around his waist, giggling the whole way.
He doesn't look up for Edward's reaction to the whole affair, but he's sure there was one. He'd probably been just as surprised as Jerome.
Jerome's bursting and bubbly when he plants a big, sloppy kiss on Oswald's cheek and rears his head back with a laugh. He throws an arm out and addresses everyone else, ordering the 'show' to start.
While things may be different now that Ed's here, Oswald still owes Jerome everything. He stills feels attached to him in some indescribable way, and he doesn't want to lose that just because it might make Ed a little uncomfortable. Oswald sighs as a woman steps forward with a necklace made of small bones strung around her neck, and listens to the pleasant rumble of Jerome's laughter against his back.
