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Oswald stood in his private mezzanine overlooking the lounge’s bar. There ordering his second drink was Ed. Bespoken suit in his usual awful green that had a habit of catching the light in a flattering way. He was speaking to Selina, eyebrows furrowed and occasionally looking around himself, out at the crowd, paranoid of being overheard or trying to find someone.
He should go downstairs and greet him. That was what they had settled into. A polite veering on almost friendly sort of antagonistic relationship. An alliance here and there. A long standing truce not to go out of their way to inflict lethal measures. The agreement to say ‘hello, dear friend’ if they happened to run into each other.
If they were pressed, a handshake.
Oswald had drunk an entire bottle of merlot in the last hour and still could not get his feet to move. He enjoyed watching Ed when Ed couldn’t watch him back. He kept the lights dim in his alcove, preserving what little hidden shelter his private booth afforded him. If he moved too much, Ed might look up. No need to spoil the mood.
“I don’t get it, boss.” Zsasz said. He leaned against the railing and well into Oswald’s space. “Why don’t you just ban him? Or kill him? I could kill him.”
Oswald rolled his eyes. No one seemed to get where he and Ed were now.
“Not now, Zsasz.” He said.
“He’d be a real easy hit. Can’t fight for shit. Aims for shit.” Zsasz snorted. “He’d probably announce where he was hiding with a spotlight and a target taped to his chest.”
Which was a likely outcome what with the vivid memory of the Riddler’s first encounter with the Batman from last year still a popular topic in their shared circles. Having to call in his private doctor for Ed had been an oddly sweet moment. Pleasant and edging into nice, even, having Ed seek him out for help. Ed was too smart for his own good sometimes.
Oswald downed the rest of his wine in one swallow and held his glass out until one of his waiters—Heath, who was deaf and handsome in a Jim Gordon kind of way—refilled his glass and stepped back to his post.
Ed was scribbling on a notepad for Selina. By midweek Oswald was sure he would know whatever they were up to when their scheme became front page news.
“I don’t want him dead, at least not right now. Check back with me in a month and we’ll revisit the issue.” Oswald said.
Zsasz didn’t move back. His arm pressed against Oswald’s and he could feel the twitch of his bicep, flexing naturally as he inched closer.
Oswald took another drink and stared harder at the back of Ed’s head. If he concentrated he could make out a few new grey hairs in the blue tinted light. Ed must have gotten new frames for his glasses, they looked slimmer than the last ones he had seen him in.
Zsasz put his arm around Oswald's shoulder, leaning into him now. He stiffened and whipped his head to look at Zsasz who was looking down at Ed, head cocked and solving some puzzle only he could see. Not even looking at him. The nerve.
Irritated, Oswald smiled up at him, all sharp edges and sharper teeth. “And what, my old friend, do you think you’re doing?”
“I think he’s a little jealous.”
“Who?”
“Riddler.” Zsasz said and nodded his head to Ed.
Oswald couldn’t help it. He laughed in Zsasz’ face.
“Truly hilarious. Zsasz, dear, at no point have I ever been a fan of PDA, especially in my own club.” Which was full of criminals that would happily strike him down if they had the inkling of a chance. But Zsasz remained immovable, persistent in his infuriating affability. “Did you need something? I have things to do tonight outside of being your resting post.”
Zsasz shrugged. He began to play with Oswald’s hair. Light little tugs which made Oswald’s face go hot. He was ruining his hair and it felt too good. Oswald swallowed and without looking away from Zsasz he waved a signal at Heath to go and be back in five.
“It’s cute,” said Zsasz.
“You either have a worse sense of humor than I thought or you’re going senile early.” Oswald said. His voice thin and airy, the anticipation of Zsasz’ antics making him tense. “I can call for a doctor. I doubt you’ve had a check up in the last decade—“
“Nah, just curious about something.” Zsasz said.
He dipped his head and, without warning or hesitation, bit Oswald’s ear. The sharp sting was enough to make Oswald yelp, but he clamped his mouth shut just in time as Zsasz’ grip on his hair tightened and he yanked his head to the side, exposing his neck to the scrape of his teeth followed by his tongue, wet and soft as he lapped over the marks he made.
Oswald scrambled to find his bearings. With his wine in one hand, his other gripped at the railing to steady himself. When Zsasz chuckled and kissed him behind the ear, making his toes curl and he damn near whined, he lost his grip and found his balance by grabbing hold of Zsasz’ coat.
Zsasz suckled and licked at every part of Oswald he could put his mouth to above the collar. He moved and pressed himself against the entirety of Oswald’s backside, his other hand coming to grip Oswald’s hip and dig into his bone, grinding himself in slow, aching movements just enough for Oswald to feel him. Oswald’s head filled with fog, making him bite his tongue to keep from making any noise, uncertain if it would be a scathing reprimand or something far too telling.
Then he stopped.
“Ah, there he goes.” Zsasz said. He let go of Oswald’s hair and his hip, separating them completely and going back to his spot by Oswald’s side. He was unaffected, blasé about the entire encounter. Good ole Zsasz, he thought.
Panting and feeling thoroughly untidy and wet and unbearably sweaty, Oswald looked over the railing and saw Ed’s back. He was leaving. His drink was spilled along the bar counter. The glass shattered.
Selina glared directly up at him. With both hands she flipped them off. Zsasz waved back to her, grinning.
Oswald briskly patted at his hair. He pulled out a pocket mirror, checking his neck.
“Was that necessary? Really?” He said. His neck was already turning bright red outside of that annoying flush. This was what he got for having such fair skin. By tomorrow he’d be sore just turning his head. He’d have to wear a scarf in July.
Zsasz was looking at him. “Want me to finish you off?”
“As lovely as that would be,” Oswald said, irritated at how out of breath he was and clearly sounded, “no thank you. I’m just dandy.” Clutching at the straggling traces of indignation he could find underneath all the fog and heat, he added, “I should dock your pay.”
“Not on the clock.”
“I’ll get someone else for the Firefly job, then.”
That got a laugh out of Zsasz. He slapped the railing. “Good one, boss.”
“You are truly awful, Zsasz. Awful.”
Zsasz hummed an affirmative. He pulled out his phone, flipped it open and then snapped it shut. Quickly he patted at his chest, checking his on-the-go armory. “Gotta head out. I’ll be back on Friday, wanna meet up then?”
“No.” Oswald said. “I’m having a meeting with the families and various other like minded individuals and I just won’t have the time. Busy, busy, as they say.”
“I’m you’re eight o’clock. Scheduled before I came here.”
Oswald huffed. Of course. “Aren’t you prompt? Well, I’m cancelling so don’t bother showing up. I won’t let you in.”
“If Riddler is gonna be there—“
“—Not a word. Not even one.”
Zsasz was determined. “He can watch if you want. He’d enjoy it more than you’d think.”
The idea alone scalded Oswald. Ed watching them? His Ed? It was incomprehensible. To imagine it went against everything he held dear. He flushed so deeply smoke must have been coming out of the soles of his shoes.
“I will ban you, Zsasz.” Oswald said. He poked Zsasz in his chest. Wine spilled out of his glass. “Don’t think I won’t because I will.”
Zsasz pouted. It was a funny, perturbing sight. One Oswald was not a fan of.
“Can I have a kiss before I leave?”
Oswald’s whole face scrunched up. “A kiss?” A kiss?
“Yeah, for good luck and shit.”
“A kiss for good luck and shit.” Oswald said, the words fell flat and he wondered what had happened. Ed had, apparently, seen them and stormed out and now Zsasz wanted a good luck kiss. Insanity had overtaken his lounge.
He looked out at the crowd below. The Iceberg Lounge was packed. His patrons were drunk and happy, ordering more food and more drinks, some dancing to the music, some of them kissing. It was the usual sight, but now it all appeared eerie. Off, somehow.
He recalled the grey in Ed’s hair. When was the last time he had seen him outside of these blue lights?
Then Zsasz was back in his vision, hands around his face and kissing him. It was a firm kiss that ended in that familiar nip to his bottom lip. Oswald still had some sanity left though and before Zsasz could pull away he pushed himself up on his toes and bit him hard on his lip, enough to taste copper.
Zsasz grinned at him. He licked his lip. He was bleeding and he looked pleased.
“You’re cheeks are so red.” Zsasz said, rubbing at Oswald’s face with both his hands, a disarmingly gentle touch that Oswald was ashamed to find himself leaning into. “You’re really adorable, boss.”
Oswald yanked himself away, slapping at Zsasz’ hands.
“Out.” Oswald said. He shook, so rattled and flustered and angry with himself. “I don’t even want to look at your face, you—you—disrespectful little—“
“So, I’ll see you Friday?”
Oswald sputtered. He finished his wine and glared at him while remembering he could not afford to try to shoot Zsasz.
“There are worse ways to spend a night.” Oswald said. “Maybe.”