Work Text:
It starts as a passing comment between a few of the staff: it’s been an unusually quiet evening at the lounge. On a typical Saturday night, they're used to seeing people lined up outside, ready for a drink and an elegant evening in as the spoils of a long work week. However, on this night, the patrons are thin on the ground. Not so many cars on the street either, though Oswald does notice a marked increase in foot traffic both running to and coming from the GCPD. The heavens open up around ten, driving still more passerby into the damp dark of the night.
Over the course of the evening, the staff and guests' whispers grows to include lights and sirens and, finally, a rare 1932 Pontiac crashing up over the sidewalk and through the front of the neighboring venue.
To avoid an even rarer vehicle, Oswald suspects.
"Raven, my dear?" he calls to the nearby server. "Would you tell Sparrow to clear and outfit suite 7 for me? And ring the sommelier. Tell them I'm going to need a sauvignon blanc, chilled, in less than three hours..."
The rumble of a nearby explosion interrupts his train of thought.
"...make that two hours."
--
Edward arrives shortly after midnight, dripping wet. He’s wearing coveralls instead of the one-piece Arkham uniform, but still shivering from the dip in the Atlantic. His ginger curls are longer than the last time he saw him and pasted to his face.
"Did you swim all the way here?"
"Between the waves and the rain, it feels like I did. The Tri-Corner is experiencing some flash flooding -- it was a near thing."
"Well, I'm glad to see that you made it in one piece."
"Mostly," Edward lifts hat to reveal a long gash, congealed on one side, blood weeping sluggishly into the shaved undercut.
Oswald presses the button on his desk, holding a hand up to quiet Edward.
"Sparrow? Is suite 7 ready? Good, my dear. One more thing before the end of your shift? Please send for a sewing machine? Elna Supermatic -- it’s in a green carrying case. It should be in storage area 1948 in the sub-basement.”
Edward’s smile is beatific, trembling with perhaps more than cold.
--
Oswald measures Edward carefully, taking careful notes on the size of his friend’s wrists, neck, shoulders, inseam.
“I presume this is related to that?” Edward asks, nodding at the Elna “grasshopper,” unloaded and set up for work on the large oak desk in the suite.
“You’re very observant,” Oswald smirks. “And you’re also in luck. Not many people have been privy to my tailoring skills.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“Not unless you consider my mother a rival,” Oswald smiles. “She believed it was important for me to learn a trade. And this was one that helped me to build some confidence at a young age. So long as I knew how to construct my own clothes, I would never need to worry about being rebuffed by a tailor or shopkeeper.”
The delicate work had also, on occasion, allowed him to show up said professionals in their own space -- people who took their own lack of disability for granted and, at heart, believed his syndactyly would ensure their superiority. Proving them wrong was one of life’s joys (occasionally killing them afterward was positively blissful).
He makes another quick call to Raven: sending for a few bolts of suiting material and findings (cotton, silk, tweed, some 3/4“ elastic, mother of pearl buttons). In the end, it is less suspicious than just sending for clothing in the Riddler‘s approximate measurements. While his staff are trustworthy, he can’t know how deeply they’ll be pressed on any unusual movements at the lounge. Either from the commissioner or the Batman. He’s relieved to be in the company of Edward, who has likely already leaped to the same conclusions in that brilliant brain of his.
There are a few underlying motives as well: he hasn’t sewn anything in quite some time. Bespoke fashion has been an enduring passion for him. It’s also more time Edward will need to spend relaxing in the suite while his sartorial needs are seen to.
“Any special requests?“
“Well, I haven’t worn high heels in a while.“
“Cobbling is outside my area of expertise, but I’ll see what I can do,” he offers his hand, helping the taller man step down from the fitting platform. “I must apologize, my dear. This is going to take some time.”
Edward smiles.
“I assure you, I’m not going anywhere.”
--
Oswald retrieves some well-worn patterns while Edward showers, tracing the outline of a pair of dress shirts, suit trousers, a jacket. Eventually, he emerges, having changed into the pajamas left in the quarters. The silk is a dark forest green, with a sateen shine. The dressing gown is a familiar brocade that makes Oswald smile when he sees it.
“Is this yours?“ he asks, tucking his nose against the material
“It was my father‘s first, I believe. My mother kept it in a cedar box for many years, to keep it dry and preserve the smell.“
“I can tell.”
“Are you quite comfortable?”
“I am. You’re always a wonderful host, Ozzie,” the light in his tone wains by the time he gets to the end of the sentence. “Would you mind staying with me tonight? I could use the company.“
“Of course.” It’s a slumber party, not something they’ve done often, but they’ve always been enjoyable. He enjoys Edward's company.
“Should we have some wine?“
“Sure.“
“How many in the breakout?“ he asks, popping the cork on the sauvignon blanc.
“Ten. Probably a few more. We didn’t exactly lock the door behind us.“
“Anyone I should be concerned about?“
“Harley and Ivy, en Route to Ivy‘s hideout in Bludhaven last I saw them. In the warden’s car, no less. Jonathan Crane, a couple small fries. And Joker.“
Well, that explained why the Batman had yet to descend on the lounge. And why the subsequent automobile incidents had been on the northbound routes in the direction of Amusement Mile.
“Well, that should at least keep the authorities busy for some time.”
“I didn’t have time to get you flowers. I’m sorry.“
“It’s the thought that counts. And, all things considered, my dear, I’d much rather you be safe.”
“Same,” Edward replies, taking his glass. “To us, then.”
Oswald smiles as Edward taps the narrow aperture of his glass against his.
“To us.”