It's only because he's thankful that Oswald sticks to Jerome like glue. It's because he owes him everything: his eyes, his virginity, his life, his sanity while stuck in Arkham, everything. It's easy to fall into a comfortable space beside him and not feel too weird about it when he knows that. Maybe it has something to do with Jerome being a little more intimate as well…. Oswald's not used to having someone grant him physical affection of any kind.
At least not without having an ulterior motive.
But Jerome doesn't have one. There's nothing Oswald could give him and there's nothing Jerome can con from him; there's no reason behind his attachment except that he wants it. He wants to be touching Oswald. The knowledge leaves him buzzing and overflowing with pride. Gotham's biggest and baddest, Jerome Valeska, likes being around Oswald.
There's a new level of constant physical touch that has become a custom between them. Since the night Jerome had saved him, things had shifted. He keeps himself at Jerome's side and Jerome, in turn, offers him lavish affection and privilege. It feels less like he's hanging around just to make sure Jerome is content with him. Now, he relishes being near him. He feels safer.
In the morning Oswald meets Jerome at breakfast. From there, he trails along as they waste time in the rec room, then lunch. Sometimes they're back in the rec room after lunch, sometimes there's time outside on the grounds, sometimes they just hang around in Jerome or Oswald's cell, but they never separate. Dinner goes by the same as the other meals, Oswald sat in Jerome's lap as they eat, both trays strategically placed so that Jerome has no problem reaching his food around Oswald. Sometimes Jerome lets him try what he's got. Sometimes Oswald doesn't bat away Jerome's hand when he takes some of Oswald's.
At night, just before the guards call for lights out, Oswald returns to his own room and Jerome to his.
He feels less comfortable at that hour. The space feels empty and unprotected without the overwhelming presence of Jerome to occupy it. There's no echoing laughter or aura of power. Sometimes Jerome whispers to him through the vents on nights he hasn't quickly fallen asleep, but it happens far less than Oswald would prefer.
One day, when Oswald had become too reluctant to let Jerome go, he'd followed him back to his cell.
But it's out of only adoration, he reminds himself. You're thankful to him and he makes you feel safer.
Jerome drops himself onto the bed with a loud sigh, crossing his arms behind his head and grinning at the ceiling before veering his gaze to watch Oswald fidget in the doorway. He hadn't commented when Oswald didn't break off towards his own room like usual, hadn't uttered a word while they walked the hall, and remained quiet even as they entered his room. Oswald wondered if he was going to say anything at all. He was about to back down and head out when Jerome finally spoke.
He smirked, wriggling his shoulders a little as he made himself comfortable. "Gonna stand there all night?"
Oswald's steps are far more confident than he really feels as he approaches Jerome's bed.
He spends a few moments standing awkwardly and looking down at the expectant Jerome before the clown tsks and reaches up to pull Oswald down by the arm. He tumbles onto the mattress and smacks his cheek against Jerome's chest with a little surprised squawk. He scrambles to move off of him and maneuver around until he's lying beside Jerome instead of on top of him.
Jerome is chuckling beside him when Oswald finally manages to let go of the nervous tension keeping his shoulders tight.
After that, Oswald starts sleeping next to Jerome regularly. Sometimes Jerome jerks them off, sometimes they just lay quietly side by side, but sometimes Jerome lets Oswald rest his head on Jerome's arm while he cards his fingers through Oswald's hair. It's a strangely intimate gesture for him... nothing to do with sex or an exhibition of power and/or dominance. It's a gentle, soothing touch that always makes it easy for Oswald to relax and drift off into sleep.
But they don't talk about it.
"Why don't you escape?" Oswald asks one night, his curiosity finally overtaking his sense.
He feels like he can ask now; he has the right to. He and Jerome are comfortable with one another and he doesn't fear Jerome's wrath as much as he still probably should. The man is still insane. He'd kill someone for being dull. Hell, he'd done exactly that two days prior during lunch period. He shouldn't feel as comfortable as he does... but Oswald can't seem to help himself and his blind trust.
"You could leave anytime you want..." he continues, playing with Jerome's sleeve absently.
Jerome lets out a short laugh before rolling onto his back. "Don't want to."
"You don't want to be free? I know you've got power here but you could run things in Gotham just as well... You've still got followers out there-"
"I don't need a bunch of cronies right now." he huffs, cutting Oswald off. "I'm still here because I gotta find the creme de la crazy. Got big plans, y'know." Then Jerome grins, full of teeth and menacing promise. "Something spectacular."
Oswald twists around so that he can look at Jerome, frowning. "You're here looking for insane people?"
"Haha! Oh, baby," Jerome smirks, chuckling deep as he turns his head towards Oswald, "It's Gotham, we're all insane here."
Oswald chooses to change the subject, looking away from Jerome in favor of staring at the ceiling. "I have to escape," he states plainly, "I've got some unfinished business out there."
"D'awe, but the doc says you're making such progress."
Oswald snorts, "Someone I care about is in trouble. A boy I promised I would protect."
Jerome perks up, propping his head up in his palm as he grins down at Oswald. "Why haven't you gotten out already then? You've got a key."
"Someone has him. If I try to get out without a plan to take her down, he could be hurt. Or killed…." Oswald trails off. Jerome doesn't need to know about this, he decides to shift gears and quickly get the conversation off of Martin. "There's also the man who tried to kill me. More than once."
Jerome giggles, "I bet a lotta people try to kill you. Every day."
"He was different," Oswald snaps before he can think better of it.
He takes a moment to breathe, to remind himself Jerome isn't in the loop with all the drama that had gone down between him and Edward. He shuts his eyes and focuses on not making any sort of facial expression that could give him away as he speaks. "He was my friend."
"The one you write letters to," Jerome says, jerking his chin forward once in acknowledgment. "The riddle guy."
Oswald realises then that he hasn't written to Ed in over a week; not since the man had attacked him in the showers. He remembers stashing his writing materials away in a huff and distracting himself by spending most of his time with Jerome. He'd hardly even thought about it in the last week. He's a little proud of himself for it. It feels like a step forward. "Yeah," he answers finally, the little bit of self amazement coming through in his tone.
Jerome's expression is indiscernible as he drops his arm to lay on his side. There's a tense moment that follows where the two of them are completely silent. Jerome stares at Oswald with something like intent as Oswald trains his eyes contumaciously at the ceiling and does his best to ignore the stare. He tries very hard not to flinch when Jerome's hand snakes quietly up his chest and starts to toy with Oswald's neck. His fingers are coarse and stiff as they slip around his throat, adding just the tiniest bit of pressure and waiting until Oswald gasps before releasing.
The action has Oswald finally giving in and looking at Jerome. There's a spark in his eyes as he watches his fingers close around Oswald's beating pulse, and he looks like he wants to tighten his grip again when Oswald groans.
Jerome doesn't say anything when he rolls over Oswald, opting instead to lean in to bite at his neck and draw him out of his pants. He's not quite rushed, but he's not patient either. The way he handles Oswald suggests he needs this rather than wants it. He's proving some kind of point to Oswald as he jerks him off and digs his teeth into his skin. Oswald wonders if maybe Jerome's proving a point to himself too.
Jerome is watching with a keen, predatory glint as Oswald cums, eyes flickering between watching Oswald's blissed out face and witnessing the way he shoots up into Jerome's hand.
He looks entirely too smug as he settles back down beside Oswald, taking himself in hand and staring at the cum splattered up Oswald's uniform before he giggles and adds to the mess.
It's been weeks since Oswald last wrote to Ed.
Oswald feels both a great sense of pride and accomplishment at this marvelous feat. He's working through his issues with Ed and slowly coming to terms with the fact that they're not friends anymore. Forget anything as romantically charged as lovers, they're not even acquaintances at this point. It's hard, but Oswald is managing.
It's a mundane morning when Oswald has it all thrown back at him.
He's sat in his usual seat atop Jerome's thighs when he catches a glimpse of those annoyingly charming glasses; the same glasses that always framed Edward's face so well and made his eyes appear bigger and brighter. He nearly falls off of Jerome's lap when he realizes that Edward is right there, being escorted into the cafeteria by two guards, and donning a stripped Arkham uniform. He's been caught, taken in and now he's here. He's here and Oswald's heart is pounding in his head.
He drops his fork onto his tray with a clatter that draws Jerome's attention. He follows Oswald's gaze over to the tall, lanky newcomer and starts up a howl of maniac giggling. His tone is teasing and harsh as he presses his face against Oswald's to speak into his ear, "Is that the riddle guy? Imagine running into him in a place like this."
The guards remove Ed's handcuffs and push him forward into the line for food with a hard shove. Edward's caught the sound of Jerome's laughter and is looking right at them now. Their eyes meet and Oswald is sure that he forgets how to breathe for a moment.
Ed is here. How intelligent of the officials to lock them up together again, because the last time the two of them had been dumped into adjacent cells had gone so well . Blow darts and crude commentary were the least of his worries now, Oswald realizes, as Jerome digs his fingers into Oswald's hip and chuckles in the way that always means trouble. "I never did like puzzles. They're not very funny."
Oswald had never wanted to kill Ed, despite what he said. He wanted Ed to feel hated and know that Oswald didn't care anymore. He wanted him to hurt. It was a blatant lie cultivated from his own broken heart. But now... Jerome was an unpredictable factor in their dance. He would kill Ed. Maybe just for shits and giggles.
He watches Edward bleakly drop down onto a bench with his tray before looking back over to where he and Jerome are seated. He wants to get up and talk to him. He wants to know why Ed is here. Had Gordon caught him for something? What was going on out there in the streets?
Had he ever gone to see Martin?
The arm firmly wrapped around his waist prevents him from going over to ask anything.
Oswald's more than anxious for a good shower today. The stress of seeing Edward has put an added strain on the muscle in his leg and he's eager to run some hot water over it. He's learned to check the shower room before he undresses, just in case. He's relieved to find it empty. Some bit of him worried that Edward would try to get him alone, get back at him for what he did to Isabel- Isabella
If he's gotta die because of her, he should probably bother to finally acknowledge her name.
He's only just closed the little locker door on his clothes, tightly holding the towel around his waist with the other hand, when he hears someone clear their throat.
Oswald startles away from the sound instinctively, letting out a surprised little yip as he finds the face of his shower-time-intruder. Ed looks paler in the medical light of Arkham's locker room. His glasses reflect the light away from his eyes, almost making it appear that Edward's eyes hold small suns. When he takes a step forward however, Oswald can see just how dead they really are.
Oswald holds up a cautionary hand between them, raising his chin to appear more confident in his warning than he really is. If Ed's come to kill him again, this time he's not going to waste his time begging. He'll uphold an air of grandeur that Ed will remember even after he's gone.
Minutes pass between them in terse silence. Ed's not even looking at his eyes, Oswald realizes, he's staring at Oswald's bare chest.
Oswald goes red and brings his arm back to cover whatever he can while stumbling out something to get the inevitable, terse conversation going. "What are you here for?"
Edward seems to startle out of his silent stare, eyes lidded like he's a little embarrassed. "I stole an antique sword from the Gotham Museum of Antiquities."
"You got caught for theft ? Really? You ?" Oswald gawked.
Ed frowns with something akin to irritation. "I was distracted."
"Nothing distracts The Riddler," Oswald retorts, the name leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.
Ed snorts once, quick and irked. "You stopped sending me letters all of a sudden," he confesses, "I wondered if someone had killed you."
Oswald tries not to let any sort of hope rise from that. It doesn't mean anything strictly profound. In all likelihood it had only bothered Ed because if Oswald was dead, if would have meant he hadn't been able to kill Oswald himself. Oswald forces away any optimism he has felt and focuses on that; knowing that Ed wants him dead.
"Did you really get yourself caught because you thought I might be dead?" he heckled. "What, did you realize you wanted to do it yourself? Is that why you're here? To kill me?"
"I sure hope not!" A new voice chimes in from the locker room doorway, the light, sinister giggle of an oh so familiar clown reminding Oswald where they were. "Good ol' Ozzie here is just a barrel of fun! I'd hate to lose such a great party guy."
Ed looks incredibly irritated as Jerome slips an arm around Oswald's waist, casual as you like, and sets his chin on Oswald's shoulder. He looks incredibly smug as he stares at Edward, daring him to say something about his and Oswald's strange entanglement. "I hear ya like riddles."
It's a little funny to watch Ed sputter for a moment, obviously not expecting a question like that from Jerome. "I enjoy an intellectual challenge."
Jerome smirks, "Are you stupid? Are you stupid? Are you stupid?"
Oswald is confused at first, wondering what Jerome is saying before he recognizes the look of minute concentration Ed always wears when faced with a dumb riddle. His lips purse as if he's tasted something sour and his brows knit together with frustration. He squares his shoulders and replies to Jerome like he's speaking to a child, "No."
"Wrong!" Jerome cheers, pulling back just a little from Oswald as he starts to giggle at Ed, "The answer's yes. But then, if you'd said yes, then you'd be smart and the answer'd be no. You're wrong either way. Isn't that a good one, riddle man?"
"I am The Riddler." Ed bites out, face indiscernible for a moment as he exchanges glances between Oswald and Jerome before sneering, "and that's a simple-minded riddle; juvenile at best."
Jerome shrugs, "Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe."
The annoyed leer Edward offers in reply sets Oswald a little on edge. The room is tense apart from Jerome's echoing laughter, continuing even after Ed turns to leave and only growing louder when he slams the door on his way out.
"Ahhh," Jerome sighs, wiping an eye as his chuckling dies down to a few hiccupy chortles. "We gotta get you some better security for shower time, Ozzie. People just keep finding their way in here."
"If you think so..." Oswald replies, still feeling a little lost and staring after Edward.
He's got so much running through his head. It's a mess. He's off in space working through theories and decisions of what he'll do next and-
Jerome grabs his chin and spins his face around until he's inches away from Jerome's teasing grin. "Why the long face, sweetums? Didn't you want your revenge on him? You can kill him now, he's here. No need to get out there to take a crack at em'." Jerome cackles, cocking his head to the side before leaning close to Oswald's ear, "Hell, I can get someone to hold him down for ya if you want."
Oswald, startled and confused, wants to push Jerome away for the first time in months.
He doesn't feel the same anger towards Edward that he did. Seeing him had absolutely deflated any malice he'd still been childishly holding on to. He thanks Jerome politely, but declines his offer. When Jerome's face becomes unreadable, a carefully blank expression taking place over the ever-present smile, Oswald decides the topic has officially been dropped.
He abandons his towel on the floor and proceeds with his planned shower, not caring if Jerome is still standing behind him. He's seen it all before plenty of times. Hell, Jerome might even be more well acquainted with Oswald's naked body than he is. He can look. Oswald doesn't care; he just wants to wash away whatever weird scenario he'd just experienced. When Jerome slinks up behind him and starts sucking hickeys into Oswald's neck he doesn't comment on it, doesn't ask why Jerome is suddenly deciding to leave a visible mark on him. Mostly because he already knows. There's some weird tension between Jerome and Edward, and Oswald has been pulled right into the middle of it. If Jerome wants to mark Oswald that's fine, but he certainly doesn't need to.
Ed doesn't want him; he doesn't care. He won't be affected by it.