A Simple Game of Chess
Edward had been given one specific warning when he walked into the Iceberg Lounge that night: Watch out for Jonathan Crane. Edward didn't think much of the warning. Penguin's logic game nights were a rare fun occasion where Edward could walk into a room of accomplished gamblers and walk away with half their winnings. He wasn't about to let a silly warning ruin his fun, especially not one about somebody like Jonathan Crane .
Edward stepped past the bouncer and took in the room. Sleek platforms with black tile flooring descended in tiers from the outer edges of the dining room, forming steps leading down to the center where the massive, glistening iceberg-the lounge's pride and namesake-sat suspended in a pitch black pool that was likely far bigger than the small gated circle Edward could see, just like its only occupant. A crystal chandelier hung just inches above the tip of the iceberg, rising in magnificent spirals to the frosted glass ceiling, a domed masterpiece of iron and glass. A swing-style band, kept in time by an electronic beat, filled the chilled air with an optimistic melody that barely matched the singer's words. Edward couldn't help but put a slight skip to his step as he descended the steps into the hall.
He spotted Crane leaning on the pool railing, scanning the crowds and nursing a whiskey on the rocks. They'd worked together a few times, always with a third or fourth party, but enough that Edward liked to consider him an acquaintance, at the very least, perhaps even a friend. Of course, that would imply Edward was looking for friends among the Gotham Rogues, and he certainly was not. Still, so few of those rogues could match Edward's intellect. He had the sense Crane was intelligent, but he hadn't worked with him one-on-one. Edward liked knowing people's weak points, and Crane's weak points were as elusive as he was pretty-and he was very, very pretty.
He was a delicate sort of man, soft-featured with a small mouth and a straight-bridged nose. His eyes were deep set and pale blue, uncanny against his warm copper skin. His hair was a mess of brown curls that barely saw a comb. Of course, the mandate of art deco-style evening wear hadn't stopped Crane from looking less than presentable. His sheer black shirt, made from an iridescent black silk, had only two buttons done in the center, a feigned modesty, since the spider tattooed above his navel was clearly visible from where Edward stood on the outer edge of the bottom tier. He could safely assume an undershirt was just not part of Crane's idea of necessary things to wear.
Now his pants -tattered black jeans with a geometric starburst painted on the hip in gold-were hardly the proper attire for this venue, but chances were even the Penguin couldn't convince Crane into a pair of well-pressed slacks. Edward genuinely wondered if Crane got away with barely following the dress code because Penguin liked him, or because the poor beleaguered weapons dealer had given up on getting him to follow it to the letter.
Crane locked eyes with Edward, taking a long sip of his drink. Edward relaxed his tense shoulders and approached.
"Dr. Crane," Edward extended a hand, and Crane regarded it with an icy silence before taking it. His grip was firm, his silver rings digging into Edward's hand.
"Evenin', Mr. Nguyen," he echoed, the ghost of a drawl on his voice.
"Nygma," Edward corrected.
"Of course, of course," Crane smiled. Edward tried not to go tense again. After a beat,Crane's lips drew in, small and with an ever-slight pout. His smile was almost uncannily wide in comparison.
"Here for a game or two?" Edward guessed.
"Just one," Crane corrected. "Reckon it's a good way to pass the time. Oz doesn't usually let me attend these. Guess he forgot to tell me not to come."
Edward forced a smile. "I'll play that game," he offered. "What are you in for? It's always more fun with a bet."
Crane held his glass to his lips and scanned the lounge for a few seconds. After a quick sip, he gestured to a free chess table.
"No handicaps," he said. "I'll wager two hundred and a good vintage."
"Depends on the vintage."
"Galicia white?"
"Tempting, very tempting, but suspect."
Crane let out a short laugh, "What's your wager then?"
"I'll play it safe, one hundred and… I know for a fact I can get a hold of a bottle of Belle Meade 9-year."
Crane swirled his glass and chuckled. "You know I'm wagerin' a lot more than you."
"I said I was playing it safe. You never said the wagers had to be even."
Crane shrugged and walked over to the table, sitting down on the black side of the board. Edward followed, taking the seat on the white side. Edward made his first move, then regarded Crane carefully. Crane had to have some tell when he was caught, some hint at his weaknesses. Edward was going to find it. He could beat Penguin at chess, this would be a cakewalk.
"I'm surprised," Crane said a few moves in. "Oz usually cautions people against playin' me. You two seem close."
"Penguin doesn't tend to like anyone who can outsmart him," Edward replied.
"Outmaneuver, I know your record. Seventeen to one is impressive, given Oz's pedigree."
"Not as impressive as having a 'don't play' warning," Edward replied, studying the board.
"Oz just doesn't like fights on his floor."
Edward glanced up at Crane. His piercing blue eyes were lingering on Edward. Edward hadn't really taken the time to look at Crane and felt like he was just now looking at his opponent. It was distracting.
For one thing, calling Crane attractive was an understatement. Maybe Edward just had a type, but there was a strange appeal to him. For another, every slight movement Crane made-and he made a lot-drew Edward's eyes towards his peacock feather earrings, which were probably real given their size, just the eyes of them dangled next to Crane's slim neck and brushed ever so slightly onto his exposed collar bone. Edward was suddenly very aware of how those seemingly harmless eyes could be very mesmerizing in the right circumstances.
"Fights?" Edward echoed. "You don't seem like the type who starts fights."
"I ain't the one startin' them, darlin'."
Edward turned his face towards the board, partly to hide the flush of heat trying to invade his face. He scanned the board, then noticed Crane's index finger, tapping thoughtfully on his castling rook. Crane couldn't have been thinking about his next move, or if he was, he wasn't about to unguard his king, not when moving the rook would let Edward put him into a checkmate. Edward glanced up, and quickly looked back at the board.
"Please stop staring at me," Edward requested. Crane's eyes flicked down to the board as Edward moved, then flicked back up. Edward swallowed, suddenly regretting the move as Crane's eyes bored into him. Had he been too distracted? Did he miss something?
"You know, Mr. Nygma, chess ain't just about readin' the board," Crane said, moving a knight and capturing Edward's queen in one swift hand motion. "It might benefit you to try readin' your opponent."
Edward felt his face flush, and he curled one hand into a fist to avoid snapping at him. "Do you take some sort of sick enjoyment from making people uncomfortable?"
Crane chuckled. "Maybe a little bit. Can't blame me for makin' plays that work."
Edward glanced up at Crane, who was smiling. "I can blame you for playing dirty."
"I'd hardly call this playin' dirty," Crane countered.
"I would, you're only winning because you're distracting me."
"I ain't talkin' about the chess board, darlin'."
Edward inhaled through his nose, then out through his mouth, then repeated. He wasn't going to get angry. He wasn't going to let Crane get him angry. After a moment, he forced a smile and looked up.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Crane," he said, barely avoiding gritting his teeth, "I was under the impression that you wanted to play a game with me."
"I do, and I am, though I reckon we're playin' different games."
"Are we? I was under the impression we were playing chess."
"You are," Crane grinned. "Me? I'm playin' you."
"You sonuva-!" Edward pushed off his chair with one foot and leapt forwards, his hand gripped Crane's shirt at the same time his foot caught on the underside of the table, and the entire thing came tumbling with him. Crane hit the ground, stopped the table with one foot, and levelled a hand on Edward's stomach. With a slight push and Edward's already sizable momentum, he flipped Edward over him to land, hard, on his back. Crane pushed the table back and flipped over, waving a few gawkers away with one hand as he stood.
"Not the most uncoordinated blind grab I've seen, but not the best start either."
Edward scrambled to his feet and blindly swung at Crane, who stepped out of the way and lightly shoved Edward, sending him stumbling into a railing. Edward caught himself, spun around, and took another swing. This time, Crane ducked under Edward's fist, kicked his opposite leg out from under him. As he fell, Crane grabbed his belt and pulled him to the side. Edward went sprawling, but still stumbled to his feet.
"Are you done?" Crane asked, standing and spinning towards his opponent. Edward bared his teeth, but the loud tap of a metal cane against tile made him back down. He was suddenly aware of how quiet the room had gotten, and the sea of eyes on him and Crane. On the tier above them, leaning on a cane and looking more annoyed than usual, stood Penguin.
"Jonathan, are you intent on causing a scene every time you're here?" Penguin asked as he descended the stairs.
"I'll pay for the table," Crane offered, "and my glass."
"I was already preparing to bill you for both," Penguin promised. "Answer the question."
"I didn't start that fight," Crane held up his hands.
"Don't lie to me, just because you didn't throw the first punch doesn't mean you didn't start it," Penguin rapped Crane's leg with his cane. "I told you to behave. As for you," Penguin turned to Edward. "I genuinely didn't expect Crane to be able to get to you, but I've been wrong before."
Crane looked at Penguin blankly. "Oz, did you just admit you can be wrong?"
"I was being facetious, can you please shut up?"
"So when you said 'watch out for Crane' you meant 'careful, Crane likes fucking with people'?" Edward guessed.
"In my defense," Crane piped up, "you made it very easy."
"I was under the impression you knew Crane enjoys toying with people," Penguin noted. "After all, the two of you have worked together on occasion, have you not?"
Edward glared at Crane, who smiled back.
"Well," Penguin tapped his cane on the floor again, "I don't really care what your takeaway is, Edward. You got into a fight, you both need to leave. Do you need Altair to see you out?"
"Reckon we know the way out, Oz, thanks," Crane started up the stairs and Edward reluctantly followed.
The two men stepped out onto the overhang, and Edward pulled a face. At some point during his short time inside, it had started pouring. The pavement was slick with water, and the nearest subway entrance was a solid block away, not to mention his own apartment was two blocks from the subway entrance.
Oh, and Crane was staring at him again.
Wonderful .
"Which line are you taking?" Crane asked. "I remember Oz mentioning you live in Somerset."
"That's not really your business," Edward replied.
"Look, I'm sorry I got you kicked out, if that helps any, but I figure if you're gonna to be walking in the rain, you might as well walk in the rain with someone so you don't look utterly daft."
Edward glared at Crane. "What the hell is your problem? Do you just like needling people or something?"
"Darlin'-"
"Don't call me that."
Crane let out a slow sigh and started undoing his earrings.
"What are you doing?" Edward asked.
"These are handmade, and I have to walk to the subway entrance, take the Red Line to Grand Avenue, and walk three blocks to my apartment."
"You live on Grand Avenue?"
"Yeah. Third floor of Brick Row."
"How does a criminal afford an apartment on Grand Avenue, that's the priciest part of Somerset."
"You come from a rich family and make a deal with Penguin." Crane folded the earrings in a handkerchief and slipped them into his pocket. "Again, what line are you taking?"
"Red, same as you, but I get off on Oldman."
Crane snorted.
"Don't even start."
"You live in Chinatown?"
"So does Cosmo Krank, there's an appeal to living within walking distance of a grocery store that actually sells fish sauce."
Crane cleared his throat. "Mask does complain about having to take the subway from Burnley to Somerset to get holy basil, so I see your point."
Edward started into the rain, and tried to ignore that Crane was following him. He just reminded himself that Crane had to take the same line as him, that's it, they'd be parting ways at Oldman Avenue and never have to see each other again.
AN: I posted this around September on my Ao3 account, am aware none of you have gotten to read something of mine for a few weeks. I'm also still mired down by the Legend of Drizzt longfic I'm working on. In the meantime, enjoy some characterwork I did with my favorite dumb criminal boys. I have this listed as Scriddler on my Ao3 because Millie suggested I expand it into a series. Speaking of Millie, she did a bunch of the editing on this and I'm hugely thankful. If you want to see more of this particular story thread, let me know.
-Salt