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It’s not as though Oswald meant to team up with his ex-best friend in a bid to outdo his new rival during a war for control of Gotham. He’d just been… out of options. Oswald is careful though, and so far, he’s given Edward no indication that he feels anything for him beyond his appreciation for what Edward can do to help him back onto the throne. As far as Edward knows, Oswald is indifferent towards him, but in need of his abilities. Currently, they’re engaged in a heated debate regarding possible approaches, and Edward is compulsively biting his bottom lip between their exchanges. It’s an old habit of his, and one Oswald should be used to, but for some reason he’s only grown more and more irritated by the tic as time goes on. Oswald has put up with watching Edward bite that damn lip for a week now, whenever the other man is deep in thought (which happens to be most of the time, given that his brilliant mind is the reason Oswald asked for his help at all). Every time, Edward pulls it into his mouth, white teeth sometimes peeking out before his lip pops free, shiny and red and sinfully tempting.
Edward has also been acting strangely, and by that Oswald means that he hasn’t been trying to kill him or make him miserable in even the smallest way. He’s been accommodating, hospitable, his company terribly pleasant— when they aren’t bickering like they are now over using street urchins for reconnaissance or using a bazooka to end things in a hail of fire and smoke. Altogether, Edward is behaving in a fashion very ill-suited to helping Oswald remember that they’re enemies, and very much suited to stirring feelings that Oswald has desperately been trying to beat down with a mental sledgehammer in a relentless and endless game of whack-a-mole. Every familiar mannerism Edward displays could be the final straw that breaks his resolve, each one a reminder that the man before him is very much his Ed Nygma again.
“We can’t just march in there,” Edward argues, “she has too many allies.”
“Allies who will come crawling back to me begging for forgiveness when they see her in itty bitty pieces!” Oswald yells, watching as Edward infuriatingly bites his full bottom lip for the dozenth time this argument alone. His reserve of patience is gone (not that there was very much to begin with).
“And stop biting that fucking lip!” Edward’s eyes narrow.
“Why?” Because I want to do it for you. Oswald’s face instantly reddens, and he takes a deep breath, centering himself. What lie could he tell that Edward would believe? Best to stick close to some truth or another.
“My mother used to scold me for it. You should… put some Chapstick on, or something.” Edward’s suspicious expression lingers for a moment, before he appears to come to a realization. Oswald does not like the look of the smile that follows.
“Alright,” Edward agrees. What follows is absolute torment. Edward digs through a drawer nearby and finds a tub of Vaseline, dipping his finger into the clear and shiny substance and then delicately applying it to his lips. Oswald can’t take his eyes off him, off his mouth, and as Edward stares back at him it occurs to Oswald that Edward knows. At some point he’d tipped his hand, and Edward is testing him. Oswald has the distinct feeling that his inability to tear his eyes away from Edward’s mouth as he rubs his lips together indicates that he’s failing. Miserably, at that. Edward finally breaks eye contact and moves to put the tub away. He pauses, indecisive.
“Did you want some?” he offers, eyes downcast and focused on the tub in front of him. Perhaps he can’t stand to look at Oswald now that he’s confirmed that Oswald still wants him. It’s embarrassing that he couldn’t even hide his feelings from Edward, who’d been so utterly oblivious the first time around. Of course, Edward knows what he’s looking for, now. It’s easier to find something when you know to keep watch for it. Perhaps Oswald can still turn this around. To refuse would indicate weakness, that he believes he can’t trust himself to be in close proximity to Edward. But if he accepts and manages to recover his earlier bluff of casual indifference towards Edward— before his little outburst— Edward might rethink whatever conclusion he’s come to.
Or Oswald is reading far too much into the situation, like he always has. Why couldn’t it ever just be simple? Perhaps it was. The simple response would be: yes, my lips are feeling a little chapped, thank you. Nothing more to it than that.
“Sure,” Oswald says, holding a hand out. Edward opens the tub and steps closer, ignoring Oswald’s hand. He dips his finger in, and Oswald has a moment of utter disbelief that Edward is going to apply it for him, to touch Oswald’s lips with his fingertips.
He’s disappointed but unsurprised when Edward merely applies a bit more to his own lips, clearly wanting one last use before Oswald’s fingers contaminate the entire tub. The object of said contamination carelessly falls to the floor between them as Edward presses their lips together, both hands now on Oswald’s cheeks to hold his face still while Edward rubs their lips together, spreading the balm over them. Oswald freezes, reworking his understanding of the situation over the course of several seconds and eventual coming back to reality, only to find that Edward’s tempting bottom lip has insinuated itself between his own. Oswald parts his lips and bites down on it like he’s wanted to for the past week, Edward gasping softly in reaction and pulling away.
His eyes flick over Oswald’s face, a brief threat assessment before he reaches a favorable conclusion, judging by the way he crashes their mouths back together, teeth colliding painfully with the force of it. Oswald finally remembers that his body consists of more than just his mouth, using it to push Edward forcefully back against a table, a wall, nearly tripping over a smaller table on the way to the couch in his haste to get Edward horizontal and underneath him. Edward keeps his hands locked behind Oswald’s ears all the while, determinedly sticking to his task of kissing the life out of him even as Oswald slams him up against various surfaces in the room.
Finally, Edward is falling back, pulling Oswald down with him using the hold he has on his head, their kiss never-ending even as he lets out a soft oomph, back hitting the cushions beneath him. Oswald eagerly crawls on top of him, enjoying the control this position gives him while ravishing Edward’s mouth, tongue sliding against his as he tastes Edward for the first time. Edward whines and tugs him down until they’re flush, abandoning his grip on Oswald’s face in favor of running his fingers through his hair, his other hand pressing Oswald down at the small of his back. His knees draw up around Oswald’s hips, ankles locking together around his waist and effectively trapping him against his body. Oswald doesn’t mind in the slightest.
Edward gives as good as he gets, chasing after Oswald’s mouth when he breaks away for air, fingers clutching at the nape of his neck and pulling him back down for more. His fingertips slide through the short hairs at the back of Oswald’s head, the touch alien to Oswald in its gentleness and the pleasantness of the feeling. Oswald falls to his elbows, leveraging one arm up to rest next to Edward’s shoulder so he can play with his hair as well, the contrast between the short hairs on the sides and the longer ones up top oddly pleasing to the touch. He switches between stroking over the cropped hair behind Edward’s ears and fisting his hand into the longer strands, pulling them. Edward shivers under him and gasps when he does, prompting Oswald to continue alternating between stroking and pulling to elicit more delicious shivers from him.
The hand at the small of Oswald’s back creeps lower, pushing under his suit jacket. Oswald tolerates the change until Edward fists a hand in his shirt and attempts to pull it out of his pants, fingers searching for bare skin. He seizes Edward’s wrist, slamming it down on the couch beside his head, fingers likely gripping too-tight around it. He pulls away for the first time, observing the telling shine around Edward’s mouth from where the Vaseline had spread as they exchanged sloppy kisses during their navigation to the couch. His lips are so full and red that Oswald nearly forgets why he paused their relations when he could be kissing them instead, mussing up Edward’s handsome appearance even further. Edward’s wrist twitches in his grasp, chest heaving as he stares up at Oswald with something a little like fear, but probably closer to awe.
“Not yet,” Oswald simply says, unable to find the words to express how much he craves intimacy with Edward, how he is afraid to take too much from him again and be left with nothing as he had before. He needs to test that line carefully if he wants to keep Edward forever. Oswald always learns from his mistakes. Edward nods and tries to tug his wrist free. Oswald lets go, surprised when Edward pulls his own shirt out of his slacks and takes hold of Oswald’s wrist in turn, guiding his hand beneath the fabric to touch warm, soft skin.
“You can touch me?” Edward says, wording it like a question, like he isn’t sure if Oswald would even want to. He does. He wants it a little too much. Oswald nods and he lets go, his wayward, wandering hand returning to the small of Oswald’s back. Oswald runs his fingers over Edward’s smooth skin, something enticing about having a hand up his shirt, rucking it up his stomach along with his sweater. There’s a strip of pale skin showing above Edward’s waist now, the sight more tempting than anything Oswald has ever known. An as-yet unfamiliar heat burns in his stomach and he wants with an intensity he thought himself incapable of until this moment. He kisses Edward again, the feeling overwhelming him even as he reminds himself to tread carefully, to treasure every inch that Edward gives him.
Two hands move into his hair, Edward taking control of the kiss as Oswald pushes his hand up his shirt, fingers trailing over the bumps of his ribs. He presses further and finds Edward’s nipple, brushing carefully over it and waiting for a reaction. Edward shivers and arches under him, thighs clenching around his hips. He gasps against Oswald’s mouth, lashes fluttering.
“You can do that again?” He does so, watching the shudder that moves through Edward’s body, rolling from his chest into an arch and a slight buck of his hips. Beautiful. Oswald squeezes around the muscle there and flicks a thumb over his nipple again, mouth descending to swallow Edward’s gasp this time around. Oswald wants to consume him, wants everything Edward is willing to give. With time, he thinks he can have it. He just needs to do this right. Oswald pushes his hand up further, tracing delicate collarbones with the tips of his fingers, scratching a fingernail lightly down the length of it to feel Edward squirm. Edward’s shirt is bunched up just beneath his ribs, caught around the crook of Oswald’s elbow. Oswald would like to kiss his soft, pale stomach, but the sweet sounds Edward makes into his mouth with every touch to his body are far too delicious to abandon just yet. His hand pushes farther, just below the collar of his shirt, resting at the base of his neck. Edward whines and strains for a deeper kiss, pushing himself into Oswald’s grip. Oswald pins him down by the throat and licks into his mouth, Edward moaning softly underneath him, fingers scratching a trail up Oswald’s spine through the material of his suit jacket until his hand comes to rest on Oswald’s shoulder.
Oswald releases him, trailing down past the ground he’s covered, briefly brushing over Edward’s nipple and then lower. His finger dips lightly into Edward’s belly button, and Edward smiles against his lips, giggling softly at the touch. He brushes down Edward’s happy trail and dips a thumb beneath the waistband of his trousers and underwear, immediately withdrawing it when Edward gasps, “Wait.”
Having reached Edward’s limit, Oswald is unsure how to proceed, or what Edward wants him to do. He could continue kissing him, but perhaps Edward really meant to wait entirely. He pulls away as far as Edward will let him, his calves securely holding Oswald in place against him from their position around his waist.
“I just want to do this for now,” Edward explains, suddenly bashful and unable to look Oswald in the eye. Oswald pinches his chin and turns it until Edward is looking at him again.
“Okay,” he says, kissing him softly. Their make-out session can’t last forever, but it does for quite some time before coming to an abrupt end when Lee barges through the door, laying blueprints on the table in the corner.
“Lee!” Edward squeaks, knocking Oswald’s wandering hands away and pulling down his sweater so he’s decent.
“Don’t freak out, it’s not like I caught you with your pants down,” Lee quips, using paperweights to keep the plans from rolling up. Edward and Oswald both turn beet red, sheepishly disentangling themselves.
“You did find us in a bit of a compromising position…” Oswald says, standing and then offering Edward a hand, helping him to his feet.
“Well, it took you long enough,” Lee says, marking a few things in white. She pauses, then looks up at Oswald, dark eyes blazing. “I suppose it’s not necessary to tell you that if you break his heart again, Grundy will break your face.” Oswald swallows.
“Lee!” Edward gasps, putting a hand on Oswald’s bicep.
“Not necessary at all,” Oswald says, meeting her stare levelly. “I won’t.” Lee’s eyes narrow, and then she nods, attention back on the plans in front of her.
“Come down to the clinic for testing, lube, and condoms,” she says, rolling the papers up and departing as quickly as she came. Open-mouthed, Edward watches her go.
“She didn’t even need to come in here,” Edward says, turning to Oswald with an expression of disbelief.
“She needed to send a message,” Oswald says. “Message received.”
“I’m sorry about her,” Edward says, covering his face with his hands. “That was so embarrassing. I’m a grown man.” Oswald peels his hands away from his face and holds them.
“I want to ask you something,” Oswald says.
“Shoot,” Edward tells him.
“Why did you kiss me?” Edward stutters and clears his throat, pink in the face and shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“I thought you’d be receptive to it… after the way you were looking at me. Combined of course with my knowledge of your feelings for me in the past.”
“Is that all?” Oswald asks, already little disappointed at the prospect that Edward only kissed him because he believed Oswald would let him.
“That and… and I wanted to,” Edward admits, fingers clenching in Oswald’s grip. Oswald squeezes back.
“I’m glad you did,” Oswald says, bringing Edward’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. Better than the kiss is the deep flush that spreads across Edward’s cheeks in reaction, heating even the tips of his ears.
“Where does this leave us?” Edward asks, brown eyes wide and shining with something like hope. Oswald thinks his own reflect that feeling.
“Does it have to leave us somewhere?” Oswald counters, raising a brow. Edward tilts his head, considering.
“No. It doesn’t.” He kisses Oswald chastely, quickly pulling away. “Perhaps we could simply… resume where we left off, and forget all the rest?” His eyes trail to the couch, blush spreading as they land and he processes the unintended implication of his words.
“I’d like that,” Oswald says, throat tight with emotion. The words very nearly choke him on their way out. What Edward is suggesting may as well be forgiveness— forgetting and forgiving are nearly the same in practice, after all. How could he be so lucky as to have a second chance at this, at true love?
“I would too,” Edward whispers, pulling his hands from Oswald’s and embracing him instead. He tucks his chin over Oswald’s shoulder the way he always used to, and Oswald feels tears threatening to spill over. He has him back. He hasn’t lost Edward Nygma.
“Thank you,” they both say, devastated by their gratitude to have each other again.