Chapter Text
Edward Nygma woke up to a world in greyscale. His extremities were cold and there were stones lodged between his ribs. Getting out of bed was harder than usual. He thought that, perhaps, he was coming down with some sort of cold. Chronic insomnia often left his immune system compromised. However, he was always too stubborn to take days off. Especially now that he worked for Oswald Cobblepot. He always powered through those rough days just like he had when he worked in forensics. Today would be no different.
Disappointing his best friend and employer was the last thing he wanted to do. Though, he knew he would eventually. The old one-two-punch of inevitable failure and subsequent abandonment loomed over him like a shadow. Ed never could keep friends for long...
The thought of losing Oswald made his stomach lurch forward like he had slammed on the brakes of his car. He never had a friend like Oswald. He's never been this enamored with or indebted to a person before. He would give his life at a moments notice for the man. Of that much, Ed was certain. That fact alone should terrify him, but his devotion to the Penguin seemed as natural to him as breathing.
His morning went along as normal. Dull in all areas except where Oswald was involved. Unfortunately, Ed's schedule for that afternoon was booked solid with interviews with new team members and interns. At breakfast, Oswald suggested have the Deputy Chief of Staff handle all of the mindless tasks so that Ed could spend more time aiding Oswald directly. But, Ed wanted to make sure he screened all of the new-hires. He had to ensure that none of them were planted there by rival gangs or crime families. Ed would have none of that and it certainly wasn't a task he would carelessly give to that braggart, Tarquin Stemmel. In fact, Ed had every intention of making sure he had a most unfortunate accident involving the marble staircase and a carefully placed envelope knife.
Once the interviews were completed, Edward skipped his way down the hallway towards Oswald's much larger office. His chest feeling lighter as we went. He chuckled at his sudden lightheadedness. Oswald may be just the medicine he needed to ease his dispirited mood.
Inside his office, Oswald and Barbara Kean were sharing drinks. Political theater, of course. Oswald was cautious around Barbara given her intimate relationship with the woman who murdered his mother. He had no real intention of fulfilling his promises to her. Obviously, she wasn't a fool. It was a strained friendship if you could even call it that. But it was one born out of necessity. Barbara Kean was allowed to run the Siren's Club at minimum taxes and tribute in exchange for hired muscle and a reliable source of intel. At least, for now. It wouldn't take much for her to bruise that trust and lose her seat at the table.
Oswald was going to be making a very public appearance at the Siren's tomorrow evening. The crème of Gotham City would be gathered to celebrate Mayor Cobblepot and his illustrious accomplishments. The two of them were likely discussing their mutual expectations regarding the event- Itinerary, security, and quality of drinks being top of the list.
“Edward! Just the man I wanted to see.” Oswald beamed. Edward couldn't help but hitch his breath a little. He gave Edward a look that communicated that he desperately wanted to be saved from whatever conversation he was trapped in with Barbara. Ed stifled a laugh.
“Good afternoon, Mayor Cobblepot.” He smiled, “Miss Kean. I didn't have a meeting with you scheduled.”
“Just thought I'd drop by.” She scrunched her nose at him and gave a fake smile that bared teeth, “I'm still allowed to do that, aren't I?”
“Of course.” he gave a predatory grin, “On days that Oswald isn't booked. Speaking of which.” Edward looked at his non-existent watch, “We should get going.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and finished her drink in one gulp, “Don't get your panties in a twist, Nygma. I'll get out of your hair. See you boys tomorrow.”
The door to the office closed and Oswald let out a groan, “Where to now?” Oswald popped a mint into his mouth in an attempt to hide the smell of the Scotch he just shared with Barbara.
“You are dedicating the new school bus for Saint Andrews Academy.”
“Lovely. More children.” Oswald rubbed his temples
“No worries. All you have to do is make your speech, cut the ribbon, and take a few pictures for the press.” Edward handed him the speech he had already written the evening prior and let Oswald skim over it. He usually ignored the pre-written ones and ended up talking about his mother instead. Not that Ed minded, “I made sure to inform the press that you had a busy schedule for this evening so you could leave immediately after.”
“And what do we have scheduled for this evening?” Oswald asked, his brows furrowed in disappointment.
“Zilch.” Ed smiled, “Unless you count me preparing dinner for us tonight.”
Oswald beamed, looking up at Edward, “Where have you been all my life?”
Ed's chest tightened at that. He knew why... but it didn't improve his mood. He could feel the corners of his eyes water and his smile dissolving into the frown he had been hiding all morning. God, if Oswald knew...
“Ed?”
“Hm?” Ed nervously clenched and unclenched his fist
“Is everything alright?” Oswald held the back of his hand to Ed's forehead, “Are you sick?”
“No. I'm...” He held Oswald's hand in his own and noted the blush creeping up his arms, “I'm fine.”
“Are you sure? You've been working non-stop. If you need to take the rest of the day off to recuperate, I won't stop you. I think I can handle going to the school with just Butch accompanying-”
“-I said I'm fine, Oswald.” Ed tried to hide the frustration in his voice. Judging by Oswald's expression, he had been unsuccessful. Luckily, Oswald chose not to press the matter.
They were all business in the back of the limo. Butch rode with them as he often did to these sorts of events and scowled the entire time. He resented the hell out of Edward for the stunt he pulled on election day. Butch had been Oswald's original choice for Chief of Staff. He was loyal and did everything he could to assist The Penguin during the rougher patches of his campaign but, in the end, Oswald chose Ed.
It made the most logical sense. Edward had experience in clerical work and could perform the more monotonous tasks with ease. He quite enjoyed them. He would listen to Jazz or one of the late-night trivia shows on the radio while he worked. Sometimes Oswald would even keep him company and hum along to the music. Ed found that he slept more soundly those nights.
Being Oswald's Chief of Staff had a shelf life, of course. He would have to find a worthy replacement that could perform all of the same duties that Edward could. That person certainly wasn't Butch Gilzean. The man was a mobster through and through. He wouldn't be able to separate that persona from the one he needed to use in public. Even now, as he stands next to Oswald as he makes his speech to a bunch of middle schoolers and the press, Butch still looks like some kind of hired thug. It certainly doesn't look good for Oswald's image. For once, Ed is grateful that he's a scrawny nerd.
Edward was fighting the urge to curl up in his room and sleep the rest of the night away. Everything was marked off for their schedule. The only thing left was dinner and a nice bottle of wine. Ed thought ahead and planned on making something simple. A mindless task that could be plated beautifully and look like more effort had been made. Oswald deserved only be best and this- a salad and some shredded chicken over rice- was the best he could do given his mood.
As the minutes ticked on, he felt like cement had been poured into his limbs. He felt sluggish. He had no fever but the fatigue weighed on him heavily. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take before he needed to isolate himself. He knew he would embarrass himself or overstay his welcome when Oswald realized how useless he was when he got like this. He wasn't even certain he could sleep. He was certainly tired but knew that an onslaught of negative thoughts awaited him the moment he allowed himself to rest.
Edward stopped in the entryway when he saw the fire was lit. Oswald appeared to be speaking with someone in the dining room. Ed skulked around the corner and then smiled when he saw who it was.
“...There's something I've been wanting to ask you.” Oswald stared at the statue of his mother, “Am I a good boy? Have I made you proud?”
“I hope I'm not interrupting.” Edward interjected
“Oh, Ed.” Oswald wiped tears from his eyes, “You never met my mother. Wasn't she beautiful?”
“A fine figure of a woman...” Edward couldn't help but feel sad at that. It was weird having her statue at the manor. She was like a ghost that haunted the creaky old house. Not an unwelcome one, necessarily. But one that loomed over him just the same. Judging him. Warning him not to get too close.
Oswald noticed the odd tone in Ed's voice and turned to face him, “Is something the matter?”
“No. It's... It's fine.” His eyes darkened as he looked at the statue. The stone effigy had only been there a week and already it felt like a permanent fixture in their home. Or... In Oswald's home. Edward was just a guest. He had to keep reminding himself of that.
“Are you sure? You've seemed quite down today.” Oswald nervously broached the subject with his friend. Edward wasn't exactly in the habit of divulging information regarding his own feelings. Oswald was usually the one who poured his heart out any chance he got and wore it on his sleeve.
Oswald and Edward stared at one another for a beat too long. Neither man was certain why they were being so guarded. It was just the two of them in the manor that evening and so they had no reason to keep secrets between them.
Edward sighed, “I suppose I'm jealous.”
“Of what?” Oswald leaned heavily on his cane, eager to finally have Edward's trust.
“My mother didn't even like looking at me.” Ed confessed
“Oh.” Oswald's eyes widened, “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“It's fine. She couldn't help it.” he removed his glasses and started cleaning invisible dust from them with the pad of his finger, “Postpartum. She never really got over it.”
“I see.” Oswald chewed on his lip, “You've never spoken about your parents before.”
“What's there to talk about?” Ed stared at his friend, “My mother left without a word and my father drank himself to death.” He gave a nervous chuckle and then pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “That's the end of the story as I see it.”
Oswald was visibly shaken by the coldness in Ed's words and recalled all of the scars that decorated his skin. Both the ones that looked like injuries he'd received as well as self-inflicted ones. There was clearly more to that story but Oswald wasn't going to pressure him into talking about it.
Edward sighed, changing the subject, “I believe the answer is yes, by the way. She would be proud.”
“My mother would be proud of you as well.” Oswald smiled
“What makes you say that?” Ed cocked his head to the side, confused
“You are my dearest friend. I do not doubt that she would have taken you in as her own. She would be proud of you too.”
“What's there to be proud of?” Ed was perplexed. The idea of Oswald's over-protective mother being anything but suspicious of him genuinely confused him.
“I... don't get what you mean?” Oswald sounded vaguely offended that Edward would even imply that he wasn't worthy of equal praise
“Oswald, look at what you've achieved. You've risen through the ranks of Gotham's underbelly and now you are the Mayor and Kingpin of Gotham. The most I've ever accomplished was framing Jim Gordon for murder. I got found out, fell face first in the snow, and got locked away in an insane asylum.” Ed chuckled at the embarrassing memory, “The only reason I'm out of there is because of you. The only reason I even have a job and a place to live is because of your unwavering hospitality. I've done nothing to earn it.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Ed. You saved my life.”
“That's true... but then I slammed the door in your face when you needed me most.” Ed frowned
“I would have endangered you and your plans. It was a good thing that you sent me away, Ed. I would have done the same, so that doesn't count.” he waved his hand dismissively. He had honestly forgotten about Ed sending him away after he was released from Arkham. Oswald smiled, “You helped me win my campaign. That counts for something too.”
“No. You did that on your own.”
“No! I wouldn't have won if it hadn't been for you. I would be lost without you.” Oswald confessed.
“You got along just fine without me before now.” Edward gave a sad sort of smile. He knew that the Penguin would be able to continue punching upward until he owned every inch of Gotham and everyone in it. He didn't need Edward in order to achieve that.
“You must be wearing rose-tinted glasses because I was a mess before I met you.” Oswald shook his head, “Ed... what's going on? Why are you saying all of these things?”
“I don't know.” Ed lied and sat down on the sofa
“You're depressed.” Oswald didn't bother softening his bluntness
Ed grimaced at how transparent he was. At how pathetic he must appear to someone like Oswald, “I suppose. It's fine... it'll go away. It always does.”
“Does it really go away or do you just pretend that it does and ignore it?” Oswald raised an eyebrow.
Ed chuckled, “You always could read me like an open book.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, placing his hand atop Edward's
“Talking is helping.” Ed smiled. Having you close is helping. He thought to himself.
“I'm glad.” he squeezed Ed's hand, “I want to make sure you have everything that you need. If you think of something, just say the word.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. What are friend's for?” he squeezes harder, “I value you. So, so much.” Oswald inhaled a shaky breath as realization poured over him, “...I'd even go so far as to say that I love you.”
Ed's eyes widened. His heart was hammering in his chest, “What was that?”
“I... um.. as a friend. Obviously.” he blushed and attempted to dismiss his misstep with a flamboyant wave of his hand. Like a magician trying to cover up a trick.
“Oh...” Ed sulked
“You almost sound disappointed.” Oswald chuckled, amused and equally terrified that his accidental confession had upset his friend
“Yeah... I guess I am. A little.” Ed blushed and sunk further into the sofa
Oswald stood there for a moment. Shocked, to say the least. Had he heard his friend right?
Edward looked up. Locking eyes with his best friend and confidant. He expected to see a familiar and hostile expression. One that was directed at him often in life. One of pity and annoyance. Or anger and disgust, given the circumstances. Edward had misread the situation and treated those three words as having more weight than Oswald had intended. Who could love someone like Edward? Certainly not someone like Oswald Cobblepot. However, when Ed's eyes locked with those pale green orbs, he found himself looking at an entirely different expression.
It was one of fondness. Shyness. A comfortable warmth settled between them... and Oswald dared.
He leaned forward, cupping Edward's face in his pale hands, and kissed him. It was gentle and unnervingly sweet. Not at all the kind of kiss Edward expected from someone as intense as The Penguin.
Edward wasn't at all surprised by how fervently he reciprocated the kiss. He wrapped his fingers around Oswald's delicate wrists and squeezed. It would leave a bruise but neither man cared so long as their lips remained connected and their tongues intertwined.
Oswald tasted like tobacco. A dreadful habit that Edward lamented his inability to convince Oswald away from. He would have to file that conversation away for later now that he could curb Oswald's appetites elsewhere. Provided this wasn't all just some dream.
“Is this okay?” Ed asked, panting against Oswald's mouth
“What? You having an affair with the mayor?” He smiled against Ed's lips, “No... probably not. But who cares?”
“Wait... Oswald...” Ed chuckled, “Not in front of your mother.” he gestured to the statue
They both shared a laugh. Oswald wiped another tear from his eye, “My mother would often scold me because she thought I was spending all of my time with some hussy.”
“Does that make me the hussy?” Ed asked
“Absolutely not.” Oswald stroked his thumb over Ed's sharp cheekbones, “My mother would have adored you.”
Kissing Oswald didn't make his depression magically go away. But he would be lying if it didn't make him feel like the shadows were less foreboding and if colors seemed just a fair bit brighter.