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Edward emerged from the bathroom with wet hair, and freshly pressed silk pajamas. “You’re not going to shower?” He asked, his nose turning up in disgust at the answer he knew was sure to come.
“I’ll take one in the morning.” Jonathan said. There it was. Edward hated how unclean the man actively chose to be. All that supposed intelligence, and not an ounce of class to back it up. He climbed back in bed with his casual lover, sighing and making less than subtle noises of displeasure as he felt the sweat and grime around Jonathan sweeping back into his freshly washed skin. Jonathan had become quite the expert when it came to tuning out his complaints, his eyes never leaving his novel.
“You should know that ever since we began hooking up my pores have never been more clogged.”
“Yes, that is valuable information, Edward. I’ll be sure to take that under very careful consideration for future reference.” Jonathan said, flatly, licking his finger before turning a page.
Edward wondered what he ever saw in the man that allowed him into his bed in the first place. Clearly, it wasn’t his delightful personality, though he supposed he had his exceptional moments, except Edward couldn’t help but wonder how many of those were genuine as opposed to the doctor toying with him. Still, like every other compulsion he had, Edward found himself doing it—or in this instance him over and over again. Edward had not been able to stand the man when they'd first spoken.
It was months ago, Edward had been scoping Gotham University for a few weeks, day and night, after he'd heard a psychology professor had written quite a distasteful article about The Riddler. While Edward had always been under the impression that all attention was good attention, he couldn't let some halfwit academic who had breezed by on their parents money get away with slandering one of Gotham's most notorious super criminals. He had a reputation to uphold. It was such a great plan too, locking the professor in an near inescapable death trap for all his students to see would have surely been enough to set an example.
Unfortunately, Scarecrow and all his damned unpredictability, had other plans for the professor that day. Edward could only be thankful the students had been too occupied with fear gas to notice when the two began bickering back and forth on the podium about who had a right to exact their revenge on the man first.
In the end, Jonathan had the upper hand with his toxin, and news of the professor's corpse hanging from a makeshift cross in the center of a cornfield had made headlines days later. That should have been his moment! Afterwards, Edward tracked him down and proposed an arrangement. They would both give each other a day's notice before planning any major heists or kidnappings. Jonathan had declined, of course, but the meeting did end with Edward agreeing to make alterations to Jonathan's fear gas dispensers. Yeah, he wasn't sure how Jon had managed to pull that one off either. The man simply had a way with words that appealed to his vanity.
“So charming. You must have been a real hit with the ladies back in your prime. Tell me, did they also enjoy having to pick all that straw out of their hair after you finished having your way with them?” Edward asked with the usual amount of condescension.
Instead of the usual witty threat of violence, Jonathan went rather still, and that in turn only made Edward anxious. Had he gone too far? He knew Jonathan could be sensitive about his age, but surely what he’d said hadn’t been that bad. Or had it been the last part? The doctor was a bit more on the prudish side, after all. “Jon?” Edward asked to no reply, and suddenly the room felt a lot colder.
His finely turned senses knew whenever he’d crossed a line, a survival tool leftover from his childhood. Jonathan was ignoring him. Edward had done something wrong, and now Jonathan wanted nothing to do with him. And for god’s sake, as much as this man who spent his free time running barefoot around Gotham City in a glorified potato sack repulsed him, here Edward was clinging to his lap like needy child. He wasn’t sure whether to strangle Jonathan or beg him to rake his fingers through his hair just the way he liked. Instead, he did the only thing sure to get him the attention he craved: he kept pushing.
“That begs a more important question. Have you ever worn the scarecrow mask during sex?”
Nothing.
“What about all that rope? Surely you’ve found more uses for it other than that boring old hangman’s knot. Clearly, you must be holding out on me with all this vanilla sex we’ve been having.”
“Edward.” Jonathan warned.
Yes. That was what Edward was looking for. that sweet sense of acknowledgment. How could he possibly stop now?
“Aw, a bit shy aren’t we, Jon? You do realize you’re not some puritan locked away in the deep south anymore. You can be honest with m—” Before he could finish, Jonathan sat up quickly, with Edward’s throat under his hands. Fair enough. That one had definitely struck a nerve, and it had been so worth it.
“I warned you.” Jonathan said, his voice becoming a deep growl. The smug look on Edwards face immediately fell, not from the sudden lack of oxygen, but from the raw expression on Jonathan's face, his pale skin suddenly a canvas of bright red. If Edward didn’t know any better, Jonathan seemed embarrassed. What the hell was going on? This wasn’t the first time he had made a tasteless remark about Jonathan’s upbringing, and while it didn’t help, it certainly wasn’t the only reason for the outburst. So then could it be…oh…oh!
“There’s…no…way…“ Edward said through choked gasps, but there absolutely was a way, and suddenly it all made perfect sense.
“What? What is it now?” Jonathan asked, but his grip remained firm.
“I too-“ Edward tried again, “I…” He tapped furiously on Jonathan’s hand, desperate to be freed. A flood of air came rushing back into his lungs at once. He held his neck, rolling off of the bed and scuttering a safe distance away as he coughed. When he finally caught his breath, he pointed a theatrical finger at Jonathan.
“I took the god of fear's virginity!” He said, sounding vaguely uncertain in his declaration.
Jonathan blinked, already having gone back to his usual, unreadable self. “Think what you’d like. I’m not playing this game.” It was more than enough confirmation than Edward needed.
“I did, didn’t I? Oh my god, this explains so much!” He was Jonathan’s first. He had to keep his head from spinning with this new information.
Their first night together, if Edward could even call it that, had hardly been more than a fumbling mess in the dark. Jonathan had shoved his tongue so far down Edward’s throat that he had to keep himself from cringing away, and that wasn't even the half of it, but what he had wrongfully mistook for Jon's inconsiderate personality, had actually been a textbook case of inexperience. The clues had all been there, how had he not put the pieces together sooner?
“You know, when you asked me to describe exactly what I wanted you to do to me in detail, I assumed you had done so in a weak attempt to humiliated me. Now, I wonder if it was because you truly had no idea what to do.” He teased.
“Careful, Edward.” Jonathan had already tried to strangle him once, and there was no mistaking how willing he was to still finish the job. Edward didn’t seem bothered as the smirk grew on his face.
Edward understood he was being immature- he didn't care. He approached the bed again with a newfound superiority. “I supposed, technically, this means I'm the best you’ve ever had?”
“That’s it.” Jonathan closed his book, and made a move to get up.
“Wait, wait, wait! Okay, I’m done! I promise!” Edward said, his body leaning against the drawer that held his gun just in case.
Jonathan breathed a deep sigh, and reopened his book. Edward was going to comment about how he had turned to the wrong page, but Jonathan had been humiliated enough for one night, and Edward preferred dreams that weren't under the influence of fear toxin. He crawled back under the covers, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, the gears still clearly turning in his mind.
“You could have just told me, you know.” Edward blurted out, finally.
“You truly can’t help yourself, can you?” Jonathan pulled his hand away and glared.
“I’m being completely serious! I would have made it special! Anything would have been better than that dingy warehouse you call a lab.”
“We were hiding from the Bat as I recall, and you were lucky I even decided to bring you with me,” Jonathan corrected.
"And you were I lucky I didn't immediately walk out when I saw a rat the size of my hat scurry across the floor."
Jonathan stared up blankly at the wall, as if carefully considering the notion., then slightly shook his head. “If I had told you then, you would have laughed in my face, and spread it around like gossip until every rogue in Gotham found out."
Edward suppressed a laugh. “While that would have crossed my mind, I'm still an adult, Jon. I think I'm deserving of some credit. What you really should have worried about me blabbing about was how awful it was when you first attempted to do that thing with your–”
“Enough. I’m done with this conversation. Go to sleep or I'm leaving.”
Well, Edward couldn't have that. He huffed and rolled over, facing away from Jonathan to make a point. He hated when Jonathan did that. It was rare that Jon would say it so bluntly, but the threat of leaving was something Jonathan had found he could wave above Edward's head like a golden pass that would get him to do anything he asked. Worst of all, it was highly effective. from By some miracle, Edward managed to keep his mouth shut long enough for the reward of long, thin fingers running lazily through his hair. When did Jonathan first realize how much he loved that? Perhaps, it was after the fifth night they'd been together. The night Edward finally swallowed his pride and asked Jonathan to stay.
It had been uncomfortable at first. Jonathan lay still on his back, while Edward awkwardly navigated how he was going to lay across the lanky man's chest without either crushing him or getting jabbed by one of his boney limbs. Finally settled in a comfortable position, he went uncharacteristically quiet. Jonathan's body was cold and stiff- like a corpse, and the concerningly shallow rising and falling of his chest didn't help that image either. This was a mistake. Jonathan couldn't possibly be enjoying this, just as Edward went to sit up, a hand fell on his head and slowly began stroking his hair, twirling the soft strand between fingers, nails lightly scratching his scalp. Edward began to relax against him, not wanting the new sensation to disappear. He had never been touched like that before, so intimately. He was putty in his hands ever since that moment.
Perhaps, Edward would have laughed at Jon back then, perhaps not. If only Jonathan knew just how much of an effect he had on him now. It was possible he did; that Jonathan and all his twisted fascination had been steering this relationship right from the start. Even if that were the case, it made Edward feel all the more special. They'd come so far since their initial arrangement. Something had definitely changed, and he wondered if Jonathan, in his own way, had felt it too. Who was he kidding, of course he did.
Who would be able to resist falling in love with the Edward Nigma, after all?