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Edward rolled onto his back and stretched out the post-coital tension in his thighs with a satisfied hum. Beside him, Jonathan appeared content to remain on his stomach, only moving enough to fully rest his head on the pillow. A pillow, Edward noted smugly, that still bore the misshapen silhouette of clenched fists. Jonathan’s face was smoothed out from the perpetual glare he walked around with, and it seemed to de-age him about five years. He looked almost beautiful.
That passing thought pulled at a string in Edward’s mind--a string connected to a conversation that he'd been putting off for several months. But they’d been having a long stretch of good fortune since escaping from Arkham. Their respective work was going well, the Bats were preoccupied with other rogues, and Jonathan had just been fucked out of his mind. If there was ever a ‘good’ time to talk, Edward supposed, this was probably it.
“Jon?”
Jonathan didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Mm?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“Mmhm.”
“I mean that I am about to have a serious conversation with you, and I’d appreciate it if you answered in something other than grunts,” Edward snapped.
Jonathan turned his head just enough for Edward to see his raised eyebrow. Then the fucker hissed at him. Edward’s intent was temporarily derailed by vivid images of smothering his lover with his own pillow. Although with his luck, Jonathan would probably keep that amused smirk congealed on his face even in death just to spite him. Maybe if he burned the body afterward....
Ignoring those homicidal wishes with great dignity, Edward settled with rubbing his temples and sitting up. “I don’t believe this. Ten million people are spread across this ruptured boil of a city, and I get stuck with the one that went to the Grundy School of Communication.”
“Ed. Either say your piece or make yourself useful by getting a towel.” Jonathan pressed his cheek closer to the pillow as Edward visibly gathered himself. “And I think I’d prefer the towel.”
“Shut up.”
All the scripts Edward had curated in his mind seemed woefully inadequate. He tried to play with his cuffs, remembered that he was naked, and smoothed down his hair instead. He spoke to the door.
“I’ve been…thinking about this for a while. At first, I wasn’t sure what it was. Then I couldn’t believe what it was. But despite my every effort to dissolve it, this seems like a condition that insists on sticking around. Thus, I feel like I should at least acknowledge it so we can react accordingly.”
“Get to the point, or I’ll go back to grunting.”
“Ten million people,” Edward muttered. Would taking a deep breath smother whatever was squirming around in his stomach? Doubtful. He tried anyway.
“I appear to have…fallen in love with you. A little. It’s certainly not anything I was planning on, but it’s happened, and…I felt you should know.” Edward didn’t look away from the doorknob as he braced himself for Jonathan’s usual brand of caustic derision.
For a long, intolerably stretched out moment, Jonathan said nothing. Edward was just about to snap at him when he heard the sheets shifting. He looked to see Jonathan raising himself onto his forearms, all while staring at Edward like he’d just disowned the concept of riddles.
Edward huffed. “You don’t have to return the sentiment, but for god’s sake say something.”
As usual, Jonathan didn’t listen to him. His fingers began drumming little patterns against the mattress. It wasn’t the action Edward was expecting, and that cooled his ire. He'd learned long ago that that was Jonathan’s tell, one that Edward doubted he was even aware of. Every time Jonathan was agitated he’d start fidgeting with his fingers. Edward had been prepared for Jonathan's anger or mockery. His worry was something else entirely.
“You love me,” Jonathan repeated.
“Yes.”
“You love me. You’re telling me you enjoy my person, not just my cock.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. I enjoyed your mouth and fingers too, long before I ever thought about your person,” Edward joked. He didn’t like the way Jonathan was looking at him. It sparked a nervousness in his veins that none of the chemicals in the lab below could replicate.
Jonathan looked away and began to pick at the pillow case. “…You shouldn’t,” he mumbled.
“I shouldn’t do a lot of things. My whole lifestyle is built around things I was told I ‘shouldn’t’ do. I don’t see why this needs to be any different.”
It looked like it physically pained Jonathan to say his next words. “You could do better.”
Edward scoffed. “Well, of course I could.”
Clearly not expecting that level of glibness to what he probably thought was a deep confession, Jonathan’s head jerked back to Edward who, after some thought, raised a finger.
“I suppose it all depends on your definition of ‘better’. Could I find someone smarter? Obviously. But seeing as I possess an intellect no one in this world could even begin to comprehend, that’s an impossible standard. Could I find someone whose mind is not so one-tracked that he thinks a fun night out is sticking syringes in people? No doubt. But lucky for you I don’t need your or anyone’s company to go out and enjoy myself. Even if you did tag along to loom all evening, I’m charismatic enough for the both of us. Could I find someone more attractive?”
He gestured at Jonathan with a snort. “Well, clearly. But beauty without substance is so boring. It’s like testing Bruce Wayne when you could be testing Batman. Besides, I’ve grown used to that saran-wrapped skull that you call a face.”
Edward rested his hands behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. “So there’s really no need for insecurity, Jon. The fact that I am superior to you in almost every category is just a fact, and therefore holds no influence on my feelings one way or another.”
Satisfied with his answer, Edward turned to give Jonathan an encouraging smile.
Jonathan looked as close to gaping as Edward had ever seen him. He opened his mouth, closed it, tried again, then finally looked at the ceiling like it held the words he needed, or was at least willing to commiserate with him.
“I—you just—you actually….” Jonathan closed his eyes and inhaled what appeared to be as much air as his body could hold. “…Y’know what? No.” He rolled out of bed and grabbed his pants. “No, no, and fuck no. I ain’t dealin’ with this.”
“Oh what’s the problem now?” Edward threw his hands up. “I was trying to comfort you!”
“You were bein’ an absolute shit!”
“You know you love me.”
“Not anymore.”
“It’s just a—wait.” A Cheshire grin spread across Edward’s face. He felt like his insides had lit up, spreading a warm glow throughout his body. It was rather annoying.
“Anymore?”
Jonathan froze with only one leg in his pants. Edward lunged toward the edge of the bed with a cry of triumph.
“You do! You do love me back!”
Jonathan dropped his pants and walked stark naked toward the door. Still in far too joyful a mood for a supervillain to ever admit to, Edward could only laugh and tease, “Oh no, are you embarrassed? Are you going to get your toxin now, so you don’t have to deal with your feelings?”
“I’m goin' to get a knife,” Jonathan growled.
“Kinky.” Edward moved toward the handgun he kept beside the bed. Just in case. “Bring the candle wax too, won’t you, dearest?”
“I hate you.”
“I love you too!”