Leslie (Lee) Thompkins X Fred Jones
Edward rolled the body bag on the metal slab table, into the morgue, and Leslie thanked him for bringing it such a long way. She began her work immediately, unzipping the body bag to reveal a handsome young man with blonde hair, white shirt, blue pants, and a fucking amazing orange ascot. If he had still been alive, Leslie would've hit that.
And her wish was granted. All of a sudden, the man that Edward had told her was Fred Jones, sat up from the metal slab, and pulled Leslie down for a tongue battle. Is this necrophilia? Leslie thought to herself, pulling off her socks through her shoes, and continuing the incredibly long kiss from Fred. DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN. He was much hotter than Jim.
Fred unlooped his ascot, and Leslie took it in her hands to whip him playfully with it, as he took off his blonde wig and threw it to the floor.
Oswald had finally made it back to Gotham, and back to the GCPD, where he desperately hoped he would find Jim, and sleep at his apartment for a while to try and forget so many traumatising experiences. Though Jim was not at his work desk, and Oswald thought that maybe he would be chatting to Leslie in the morgue, well, she and Jim were pretending to date for Jim's sake. He opened the door to the morgue, to which could only be described as flutterwagoning necrophilia, and shut it again, trying to think of what he could have possibly done wrong in his life (other than kill a few innocent people) that had made God want to punish him in such a way (and not the way Leslie was punishing that corpse in there with his own ascot). Oswald limped away, wanting to die.