A small beam of light flickered almost smoothly over the rough walls, illuminating the room with a glaring, fake glow. Edward blinked slightly and tried to ignore the loud hum of the car in the street in front of the old house. As quickly as the halogen spotlight had lit the room, just as quickly it had disappeared into the darkness of the night again. What remained was a pleasant warmth in the small bedroom. The tinkerer rubbed his arching forehead, which was still wet, and felt with the flat of his hand over the white bed sheet, clawing lightly into the damp fabric. His heart was beating fairly steadily after the unexpectedly intense activity, but absolute chaos broke out in his mind after he was calmed down enough. The raven-haired man tried to ignore the nagging thoughts, searched with his fingers for the thin summer quilt on his thighs. He pulled it up to his shoulders with a flowing movement and stared at the grey wallpaper. The sweat slowly dried up due to the milder temperatures during the summer night. The Riddler took a deep breath, smelled that special blend of roasted coffee beans and a hint of Benzeneselenol again. A slight rustling behind him made him flinch a little. Was Jonathan already asleep? Probably. Edward stiffened a little and carefully looked over his shoulder, staring at the former psychiatrist's messy, brown hair. He didn't move or make any really loud noises. The tinkerer slowly turned his head back, staring again at the innumerable cracks in the mouldy wall. This whole evening was basically a huge riddle for the younger man with a never-ending spiral of cheap attempts at explanations. The inventor grumbled cautiously, then suddenly stopped. Had he actually just compared the night to a riddle? The raven-haired man smiled barely noticeably at the unintentionally fitting choice of words for the unusual situation and licked his salty-tasting lips. And what now? The rogue felt a slight throb on his strained forehead. To make matters worse, the bed began to shake when a presumably heavily laden truck drove past the unstable house. Much heavier than the load of the vehicle were probably only the thoughts of the Riddler at that moment. The faint ticking of the old wall clock in the dusty hall allowed the strange assumption that time itself would pass more slowly than usual. His blue eyes fixed one of the innumerable points on the wall. He had to somehow put what was happening in a logical context, but how? Edward frowned and pulled his knees up slightly, wrapping his arms around his calves. Actually, it could be summed up to literally one important point: he had a sexual intercourse with Jonathan Crane that night.
That was a fact that definitely could not be changed in his careful deliberation any more. Still, the chain of events that led to the unexpected 'climax' raised an endless number of unanswered questions. The tinkerer stroked some scars on his shin. It had started with a common plan, which - as always - got completely out of hand after a very short time. Scarecrow was a very stubborn figure of the underground and you could rarely change his mind, even if the professor was absolutely wrong with his statements and he would run straight into an avoidable catastrophe. The former psychiatrist's pride often prevented him from actually seeing mistakes and apologizing adequately for his bigotry. The raven-haired man sagged a little more on the bed, lowered his forehead to his drawn knees. Unfortunately, this was one of the few behaviour patterns in which the two criminals looked almost like twins. Even the inventor found it incredibly difficult to admit that he was not perfect. This was in strong contrast to his own feelings. Edward bit his lip lightly. The constant overcompensation of his non-existent self-esteem shot completely at odds with the image that he desperately wanted to convey to society: he, the one and only Edward Nygma, was the top of human ingenuity and mentally superior to all of the imbeciles around him. If anyone dared to say the opposite, this person was a fool or a simpleton. The reality was of course different. The Riddler was breathing a little slower than before. It seemed so absurd. He waged an almost endless fight with himself, which he could never win because the raven-haired man was not convinced of his own demeanour. A shimmering costume did not enhance a soul that was broken several times. The glittering fabric only hid the most obvious injuries in the torn mind.
And then there was Jonathan Crane. The older one probably saw through his shell when they first met. The brown-haired man analysed every little movement around him and brought it to an extremely painful point with astonishing precision when he had found enough 'evidence' for his thesis. The professor was not a man of many words. It was all the more impressive or even more terrifying to see how he managed to completely overthrow a normally stable framework of convictions with just one simple sentence. Edward gently shook his head. That still didn't explain why he'd ended up in bed with the dark man of all people. As always, his inner voice seemed to know better. This way of seeing through and breaking a human mind was simply remarkable. So remarkable that at some point the tinkerer felt a real attraction in Jonathan's vicinity. The Master of Fear was like a polarizing magnet, which initially pushed everything away until he gradually opened. The force changed suddenly and an infinitely strong suction was created, from which at a certain point there was simply no more escape. The Riddler began to shiver slightly. Why did he worry so much about this one night? It was just sex. No more and no less. They had released the very high pressure between them together and in the morning would pretend nothing had happened. A sharp stab went through his heart. Just sex. Presumably he was of no use for anything else. At that moment, self-doubts took over again. Nobody lasted long at his side and it was only a matter of time before someone tried to successfully push him out of the life. Sooner or later his name spread an unwanted chaos - not only because as a criminal he had the reputation of attracting as much attention as possible and had to stage himself again and again to keep his image. His world was a very fragile object that could break like glass at any time and who was willing to endure these constantly changing emotional states? Edward felt the first tears flow from his eyes. This loneliness ate away at him and knowing that he might have bridged this one night with purely physical love only made it worse in the end. Jonathan would kindly expel him from his apartment tomorrow. Just like everyone else before. The younger one had no hope that the professor was different from all the countless disappointments in his life. A low sob came from his dry throat. Still, there was this minimal possibility that the former psychiatrist might really take him for who he was: loud, disorganized, highly dramatic and far too insecure to make important decisions himself.
The tinkerer didn't like to say it out loud, but forbidden feelings had long been involved when he met the sinister man. The desire was so dragging that he made up some absurd lies just to finally be able to see Scarecrow again. Jonathan was humanly difficult to reach when it was not about his work and every small step towards a friendly basis was worth jumping out of pure joy. This also included completely unimportant, superficial arguments. The brown-haired man never shared his views with other villains because he felt it was a waste of time. Only Edward had this unique privilege to fight him mentally. So was it reprehensible to think about whether they might have a future together? The younger one relaxed a little. It made no sense to philosophize about it at the moment. He would have to wait until morning, which would most likely keep him awake for the entire night. The tinkerer moved his hips a little, feeling the tell-tale wet stain on the bed sheet. He surely had to apologize in the morning for the dried, white remains of his endless lust. Jonathan had insisted on wearing a condom during intercourse, which the younger one had basically not expected otherwise from the Master of Fear. The professor might be many things, but there was one thing he wasn't: reckless. It was also more or less known in the underground that the Riddler had phases in which he frequently changed his nocturnal company in bed. A small smile fell on his lips. Joker had been hit more than once in his ugly face for his often stupid comments about this behaviour of the other rouge and none of the other criminals had ever thought of defending the clown against the Riddler. Presumably half of the villains weren't interested in the black-haired man's private life or they just enjoyed watching the mad prince suffer. Joker was even more hated than the Dark Knight himself and that should mean something. Nevertheless, these completely exaggerated statements hit the younger man again and again at his sore spot. His ego. Was that why Jonathan had preferred to sleep with him in a sheltered way? What was the likelihood that the former psychiatrist would even label him as a male whore, like Joker or sometimes even Twoface? Ridiculous. It was so ridiculous. Why was the inventor thinking about it right now? Probably the older one just wanted to make sure that they both felt good the first time and that there weren't any nasty surprises in the morning.
Perhaps the professor had a well-kept secret that the tinkerer did not know yet. Edward closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't imagine that Scarecrow had ever had anything like a committed relationship with anyone at all. Jonathan had been noticeably insecure that night. He seemed familiar with the theory of intercourse, but the practice was still visibly different from the myriad tips in the factual textbooks in his library. The gaunt man had once casually mentioned that he had grown up in a very religious environment. So there was a good chance that the explanation beyond the fact of the reproductive instinct never took place. So how was the grim psychiatrist supposed to know that sex was fun, that it relaxed the body, loosened internal blockages and ultimately calmed troubled minds? The Riddler consciously wanted to exclude the romantic aspect for himself for many people. Physical love was one thing and after all these years he had become convinced that he would never get beyond it. An old sock will find an old shoe. Just not in his case. The Riddler did not know what to do now. According to the beating clock in the corridor, it was just two in the morning, so at least four hours before the elder would wake up from his peaceful slumber. Far too much time to think or more, to overthink. Before Edward could decide on anything, he felt the previously rigid body move behind him. Jonathan snuggled down close to his body, the bare skin rubbing lightly against each other. The tinkerer held his breath abruptly. After a while, the brown-haired man's thin arm wrapped itself around his trembling abdomen, gently pulling him against the bony chest of the former psychiatrist. The thin man's cool breath brushed his sensitive neck. Small bite marks adorned the reddened skin. The younger one slowly broke out of his stiffness and began to breathe again, his hand carefully placed on the narrow wrist above his kidney. He flushed slightly and felt the professor's scarred chest rise and fall evenly. This led the inventor to slowly close his eyes. He concentrated entirely on the man behind him, shuddering again and again when his breath brushed the hair on the back of his neck. The older man's bony fingers caressed the pale skin gently, leaving a pleasant tingling sensation. Out of nowhere Edward heard the scratchy voice of the Master of Fear: "Please try to sleep, Edward. You are not alone and I will also be there tomorrow when you wake up. You can trust me. I'm not leaving." That was all the younger one needed. Someone or better something in his head flicked a switch that otherwise could only be thrown through physical satisfaction. The tiredness overwhelmed him, as well as the strange warmth and the feeling of being safe. He no longer noticed how Jonathan breathed a gentle kiss on the back of his head, just wandered into a relaxed and long-awaited sleep.