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"I'll let you look into it. I trust you to handle this." Bruce pushed back from the console, rotating the chair so Tim could hop in.
"You mean you're off to visit Eddie again and you don't have time to bother before the hospital's hours end," Tim surmised, sliding into the seat with enough force to send it spinning. By the time he swung around to face Bruce again, there was a smug smirk seated firmly beneath his Robin mask.
Bruce crossed his arms, glowering down at his unphased sidekick. "Two things can be true. I can be heading to the hospital and I can trust you. Don't make me change my mind about that."
Tim waved a hand dismissively, shooing Bruce away from him. "Go on, then. Don't let me keep you from your sleeping beauty."
Bruce grumbled, flipping the cape to trail behind him on his way to the Batmobile. He'd heard the jokes often enough in the past couple of weeks, Tim and Barbara feeding off of one another to poke fun with increasingly-aggravating frequency. It wasn't their fault he was annoyed, though, not really. He knew their intentions were good-natured, but he felt far too guilty over getting Edward injured snooping for him to find the humor in it.
"Keep me updated," Bruce called, slipping into the driver's seat. "And don't go out without letting me or Alfred know where you're going!"
Tim waved him off, in a way that was less respectful and more mocking than Bruce was happy with, but he really was cutting it close on time. The wheels spun, spitting up clouds of smoke before making traction and peeling out of the hidden entrance. One eye on the clock and the other on the road, Bruce swerved and chased through the city streets, Gotham's motorists used to sharing the road with his distinctive vehicle and giving him plenty of space to pass.
He bounced into the parking garage with nearly half an hour to spare and took a bit of time to pay ahead on the parking meters he passed along the way. He'd been trying to convince the executives at Gotham Memorial to switch to free parking, but hadn't been making much progress on that front, so he tried to at least pay it forward while he was here.
The receptionist didn't hesitate to let him through, buzzing him in with a smile, and he swept down the hall, tapping his toe impatiently while the elevator made its slow way down. An intern passed by and made a timid sort of yelp, and when he offered a smile and a wave, she skittered off nervously down the hall, face red.
The elevator doors pinged.
Edward's room was on the third floor, in a quiet little ward where the nurses made very regular rounds, the patients generally not conscious enough to be uncooperative. There he slept, IV dripping, heart monitor beeping, oxygen tank buzzing. Bruce slid over his usual chair, tucked into the corner where he always returned it after visits, where it always awaited him when he returned.
"Hi."
He winced. He felt terribly awkward. Edward wasn't even awake to see him embarrass himself, though that in itself was the problem.
"The nurses asked me to keep speaking aloud to you. They said your brain function improved after the last time. They're not sure why it makes a difference that it's me talking, and not anyone else, and, well... I have my guesses, but I didn't feel it was my place to tell them." His fingers sought Edward's, draped comfortably on the blanket by his courteous nurses. Bruce had worried, at first, that someone in the hospital might hold a grudge against the Riddler, that they might try to seek some petty revenge, but everyone in the ward had been kind, or at least professional enough to look past any such grudges. "So your secret's safe with me. Well, and Robin. And Batgirl. Couldn't really keep it from them, though, seeing as they're the ones that guessed in the first place."
He squeezed Edward's hand, gripping onto the warmth of it as a solid reminder that he was still alive, despite appearances, despite what he'd been through on Bruce's behalf.
"They keep teasing me about it, you know. At first, it was just about your password, but now it's all 'oh, Batman, aren't you a little late to visit Eddie?' 'How was Eddie last night?' 'Has the hospital chair started turning black with proximity, or did you bring in a can of paint?'"
He stroked a thumb across Edward's prominent knuckles. There came a responding pressure, so faint he might have imagined it. His heart pounded, anticipation thick in his throat.
He pressed on. "Teenagers, you know? What can you do?"
The corner of Edward's mouth twitched. It was almost a smile.
"They're good kids. Sharp. It can be pretty humbling, sometimes, most of the time, having a kid barely half your age solve your cases for you, but Gotham's a safer place with them on the case."
Bruce squeezed his knuckles again, encouraging another responding grip. Stronger this time.
"I shouldn't have put you in danger like that. I never wanted you to risk yourself on my behalf. If I'd known- I should have realized-"
"When is-" Edward croaked, then cleared his throat. "When is a doctor most annoyed?"
Bruce leapt from the chair. Edward was awake, talking, giving him a weak little smile and a conundrum. He was awake, he was conscious, he was alive, and Bruce had a thousand questions to grill him with about Clock King and Penguin and he only hoped he'd be able to answer half of them, with what the doctor had said about possible memory loss-
The doctor!
"Nurse?!" Bruce called, rushing for the door. "Nurse!"
"Batman?" A voice called back, followed by a curious head of curly hair and a clipboard. "Is there a problem?"
"No problem, ma'am," Bruce refuted. "He's awake."
---
To Edward's great distress, Batman was not allowed to stay in the room while the nursing staff grilled him with countless questions about the events leading up to his stay here, voicing concerns about the vigilante 'coaching' him through the answers, whatever that meant. It was strange enough to wake up to the Bat in his hospital room, let alone contend with the implication that the man would try to help him, even in a way that hindered his medical staff. Had he found something useful in the investigation, after all? It was starting to seem like he'd lost some amount of time between picking up the lead to Blüdhaven and waking up here.
Enough time, unfortunately, that they ordered him an MRI.
Edward hated MRIs.
Repetitive noises set him off in a bad way under normal circumstances, let alone trapped in a tiny dark tube with the noises echoing like thunder all around him. Worse, even when he told them this, when they had his medical history and psychology reports on hand, they refused to sedate him, always wanting to ask him questions during the process, and then had the nerve to get frustrated with him for not keeping still when they asked!
This time, though, he had the unique pleasure of witnessing Batman's full fury unleashed in his defense, for once, instead of aimed his way.
"What the hell were you all thinking?!" He spat, looming over the startled technician. "Look at him! His hands are still shaking!"
"Listen here, Batman," the attending physician interrupted, rising to confront the irate vigilante, "you have no right to speak to my technician that way. That man is my patient, not your suspect, not in this hospital, so you don't get to tell us-"
"He's not my suspect at all, doctor," Batman growled. "For the time being, he's my partner, and I expect my partners to be treated with respect."
Partner, huh? That sent a pleasant little tingle down the spine. Whatever it was he'd done to earn that one, he should give it another go. Unless, of course, it was the thing that landed him here, comatose and missing time. He could do without this part.
"You will not be running that test again, not like this, and certainly not until he's had time to calm down. Do I make myself clear?"
"Batman, you're hardly qualified to make that sort of medical decision. If there's some sort of damage we need to-"
"If that was really your concern, you're hardly helping by terrifying him half to death and shooting up his stress levels. Now I'm only going to repeat myself once; Do I make myself clear?"
The cowed technician nodded rapidly. The doctor reluctantly gave in to Batman's intense glaring, turning away and giving a nod of his own.
In short order, Edward was led out of the room and back to his bed, a fuming caped vigilante swirling just behind him, shooting suspicious glares at the staff as he passed. It called to mind more a great, big, dark-feathered, brooding hen, pecking at the hands of anyone stupid enough to get near her eggs, rather than the intimidating gargoyle of the skies that Batman normally tried to manifest.
"Was all of that really necessary?" Edward laughed as the door slid shut. He made for the bed gratefully, exhaustion seeping into his bones as the adrenaline died down. "I think you gave half the ward lifelong chiroptophobia."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Batman grumbled, fidgeting with his cape until it fell around him properly. "You should see me when Robin's the one hurt."
"Oh, I can imagine." He could picture it now: Batman, hunched in the corner, hissing expletives at the staff any time the Boy Wonder so much as flinched, getting kicked out for being disruptive... "You were serious, then? About the 'partner' thing?"
Batman nodded. Just a little incline of his head, the pointed ears of his mask telegraphing most of the movement. "We were cooperating on an investigation. That fits the definition of a partnership for me."
"Yes, I remember... up until Blüdhaven, at least." Edward shrugged. The bed bounced with the movement.
"You do remember Blüdhaven, though?" A deeper frown etched its way into Batman's strong jaw. "Do you remember what you turned up there?"
He shook his head. "Sadly, no. I only remember needing to go there. I might remember bits of the train ride? But, then again, I could be making up memories while I'm trying to put things together." All this thinking and remembering and thinking about remembering was giving him a headache. He rubbed his temples. "It was useful, though? Helpful?"
Batman's silence was less than encouraging.
"Damn," Edward cursed. "Guess I got stabbed for nothing. That... is what happened, isn't it? There wasn't some fake story made up for the doctors? I was literally stabbed in the back?"
"Yes," Batman confirmed. "By Temple Fugit."
"Clock King... figures. He was the lead I was hunting. Noticed he'd started popping up in Blüdhaven photos soon after Hill relocated. Thought there may be some connection there. No dice, then?"
"Any data he might have had was destroyed. He allowed his car with his computer and all of his files inside to explode. On top of that, neither he nor Penguin could confirm a connection."
"The man does like his explosives..." Edward murmured, pondering the problem. He jolted upright. "Wait a minute. Just because his computer exploded, that doesn't mean everything was necessarily lost!"
Batman hummed curiously, shifting closer. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... If I was stabbed by him, that means I got close to something worth protecting! I might have been able to nab something useful!" He bounced a little in place, mind churning. "I've been working on a portable computer with a bunch of different functions- a digital camcorder, for one- that might have-"
"We found it. You had left it back in Gotham."
"Oh." Edward picked at his cuticles, deflated. He really hadn't been useful at all. "Well, maybe it had some sort of lead on it. My memory goes pretty hazy before I'd even left, so maybe-"
"Nothing. Just phone numbers for takeout places."
Edward winced. He'd really prefer if Batman didn't know he lived like that. He was able to cook, he just... didn't have time. Or motivation. Or a kitchen, not consistently. "You were able to crack it? I'll have to rework the security on it, then..."
"No. We used your password."
Oh.
Oh no.
Edward had set that password without intending another soul to ever need to guess it. Normally, he'd set something witty, something cerebral, an answer to a nigh-unsolvable riddle, intending for only someone who could match his wits (Batman) to get into it.
This one was just embarrassing.
Batman felt the same way, apparently, the skin peeking out from under his mask pinkening. "It was Robin who guessed it. Batgirl had tried to crack it, but decided guessing at the password was easier. In the end, it was an unnecessary invasion of privacy, and for that, I apologize."
Edward couldn't look him in the face. He buried his head in his hands. If he could go back in time and change one thing, it'd be this. He'd still have tried to kill that asshole Mockridge, still reinvented himself as the Riddler, still battled the Bat at every opportunity...
But he would have set that damned password to anything but 'Batman'.
"It wasn't all a bust, though. I did use your lead to back Penguin into a corner. He tried to kill me, live on camera, and was forced to resign." The cape rustled with his little shrug. "Even if we never figured out the specifics, the end result was the same."
"But the mystery was never solved," Edward bemoaned. "I was supposed to solve the mystery for you, and I didn't! I didn't even get close before I-" He paused, the thought that had been tickling at the back of his head solidified. "Wait. There were phone numbers on the computer."
"Yes. That's all we could find on the storage."
"Phone numbers."
"Yes. Pizza and Chinese food, mostly, according to your address book."
"Batman. Phone. Numbers." Edward tugged at his still-short hair, willing the vigilante to connect the thought. He couldn't force his own brain to align the words in a sensible order. A riddle? But Batman got upset with him for couching important things in riddles.
"You mean... why would that be the only thing on there?" Batman guessed.
"No! Yes!" Edward groaned. "Phone numbers are just short little sequences of numbers. I can memorize a phone number in seconds. I already know the numbers of the places I order from regularly, no need for so much as a note, much less a supercomputer that fits in my pocket. It would maybe make sense if I had been gathering the phone numbers for places in Blüdhaven while I was staying there, but I left the damn thing behind. Are you getting it now?!"
Batman's jaw dropped, the sharp angles of his mask softening with his wide eyes. "It's a code. You left your investigations in code."
"Yes!" Edward cheered. That's what he'd been trying to get at. "Yes, a code! I don't remember doing it, or why, but if you still have the device-"
"I do. It's been left back in the cave."
Edward grinned. "Then let's take a look at it."
---
Barbara had her feet propped up on the Batcomputer's console, jabbering into a headset and following a little arrow around a map on-screen with a careful eye, when the Batmobile rolled into the cave, pulling to a smooth stop and hissing as the doors swung upwards. She yelped at the sight of Edward hopping out alongside Bruce, nearly falling from her chair but for her honed reflexes.
"I'll have to get back to you in a minute, Robin. Batman just got back. Let us know if anything comes up."
She snatched the headset off, slamming it down and spinning on the both of them as they approached her.
"Batman! What the hell is he doing here?!" Barbara hissed.
"The doctors weren't happy about him leaving, but there's something we need to look into." Bruce nodded toward the workbench, where Edward's prototype still sat. Barbara had been poking and prodding at it, seeing what made it tick. Bruce could only hope she hadn't accidentally wiped it.
"Right. Wasn't he in a coma?" Barbara inquired, following closely behind them both while they traversed the cave, one suspicious eye ever on Edward's movements.
"I got better," Edward explained simply.
"Got better? What does that mean?"
"It means he's no longer in a coma," Bruce elaborated unnecessarily. "Didn't Robin need you? And is Alfred at least aware of where he's gone?"
"Oh!" Barbara bounced, turning heel and racing back to the computer. "I'm back." Don't think I'm letting this drop, she mouthed Bruce's way, pointing two fingers at her own eyes, then over to Edward.
The Riddler was poking around the trophies, flicking a nail against the giant penny and listening to the tinny tink tink it made.
"Focus, Edward," Bruce called.
Edward scampered over, eagerly. "Right. Hidden codes and all that. What are we looking at?"
"Here, let me pull it up..." The larger screen they'd patched the little device into powered on, displaying Edward's home screen. From there, he accessed the device storage, showing only contacts in the address book and no other data. "This is all we found."
"Alrighty, then! Let's take a look." Edward hopped up onto Barbara's stool, folding his legs underneath himself and pulling open the files. He scanned the numbers and the business names curiously. "Hmm... well, that's something..."
"You've found something?" Bruce leaned in to look, one hand braced on Edward's narrow shoulder. He flinched, tensing under the touch, and Bruce conscientiously removed the offending hand.
"Uh... yes. Something." Edward cleared his throat, readjusting on the tiny stool. "Look here. Only three of these businesses actually exist- or, at least, actually exist in Gotham- Robbie's, Thai Wonder, and The Street Shack. Of those three, only two have the actual phone number for that business. The number under The Street Shack is completely random. It doesn't look like a Gotham phone number at all. See?"
Now that his attention was called to it, the discrepancy was obvious. "So, what does that mean?"
"Not sure yet. Give me a second to look at these numbers more closely."
Bruce scanned the list alongside him, churning the phone numbers over in his head. "They look like coordinates."
"Coordinates?"
"Yeah, look here." Bruce pointed out the two phone numbers associated with The Street Shack, then the ones under a fake business called The Crow's Nest. "The numbers all start with the same digits. If we pull up the real business on a map..."
Edward tapped the tiny screen of his pocket computer a few times, pulling up an interactive map. He zoomed in and dropped a virtual pin somewhere downtown. "It's here."
With another tap, the map displayed the coordinates in question. They matched the 'phone numbers' on display with a disparity of only a few minutes.
"You must have left that one as a cipher key," Bruce surmised. "If we follow the rest of these as though they were coordinates..."
---
It was an ingenious little system, if Edward could say so himself. Considering he didn't remember coming up with it, he felt it wasn't tooting his own horn to claim it, either.
Each location, as marked by the disguised coordinates, had a quick note on its significance, concealed as a fake business name. At a glance, it looked like nothing of import. Even someone as familiar with Gotham as its vigilant sentinel didn't notice something amiss.
'The Crow's Nest' was obvious, here. Jonathan's preferred hideout, the one he tended to return to most often. Edward almost felt bad about giving the information away to the Bat, but the excited squeeze to his shoulder when Batman realized what he'd been given was worth a bit of betrayal.
More relevant to the case at hand were the three locations labeled 'Time Flies'. It was an obvious pun on Temple's name, and Batman confirmed he'd used the same one in a clue to Hill preceding his surrender to blood loss.
(He was sure he wasn't imagining Batman's disappointment when he revealed Edward's final words before the coma. Again, again, again, even with his life on the line, he couldn't say things outright. Personally, he was pretty proud of himself for managing 'ticket seller', even if he then obfuscated Clock King's name, but Batman didn't judge progress by halves.)
"This one is near the business he was running. He attacked you here." Batman circled the location in red on his nifty little transparent map-on-wheels. The map for Blüdhaven was clearly newer than the Gotham one, missing the signs of wear and made with a sleeker design, and Edward wondered if he'd only made it when Robin I traded out his traffic-light tights for the new black onesie. His devotion to Gotham was famously single-minded. "You then escaped this way..." Here he drew a little dotted line down the street. "...And ended up at Hill's residence, here."
Edward scanned the list, finding the relevant number. "That'd be this one, here." It had been labeled with an oblique reference to Alexander Hamilton, for Hamilton Hill. "There's another one within a few degrees of that, probably on the same street."
"Same street?" Bruce checked the number against his map. "There's a jeweler there. You broke into it while you were bleeding out. We never managed to connect it to the other events."
"I must have found something there, if I've got it on my list. I was probably trying to draw your attention to it." And a dozen other places, besides. Given some time, he could guess at the meanings for all of them, but it was getting harder to concentrate. "I... I think I need to call it a night."
"Your head?" Batman guessed, laying a blessedly cool hand against Edward's steaming noggin. "You're running a fever. You should rest."
"No, I want to-" Edward mumbled, feeling his eyes grow heavy. "I want to help..."
---
Bruce was sternly reprimanded by the hospital, and banned from future visits until Edward was ready for release. He grumbled and groused and argued, but he was pushed from the room, the ward, and the building entirely by that same curly-haired nurse from before. He paced anxiously outside for a good while, until Tim's voice crackled over the comms and he had to admit there was nothing more he could do here until at least morning.
"Robin. Report," he ordered, tossing himself into the Batmobile impatiently.
"You sure? I don't wanna interrupt your special Eddie Time if you-"
"Just get on with it. What did you find?"
"Some good news, some bad news," Tim reported. The hum of an engine behind his voice cut out. Quietly, he could hear Barbara's greeting. "Good news, it's not Poison Ivy we're dealing with after all."
"Strange." Gotham sped by in a blur, the lights streaking into a rainbow of color. "The compound we identified matched one she's used before."
"That's the bad news. Someone's stolen her special Miracle-Gro and is using it to destroy the florist shops."
"So we need to find out who stole her formula," Bruce concluded.
"Actually, good news again, I know who it is!"
"Go on..."
"It's Harley Quinn and Mad Hatter. They're working together. Guess that one's more bad news. Whoops."
"Great." Bruce could only cross his fingers that Jervis wasn't her rebound guy, and that it was just a good old 'two rogues, one goal' sort of teamup. "That explains how they got their hands on something of Ivy's, anyway. She's always had a bit of a soft spot for Harleen."
"You can say that again. Don't think she'd be too pleased about Tetch getting in on it, though." Tim's voice grew quiet and muffled, saying something indistinct to Barbara. "You on your way, then?"
"Be there in five." Or less. This late into the night, the streets were empty, and he had ample room to maneuver.
"So... how is Eddie?"
Bruce sighed. "Don't start."
"Come on! Babs said you brought him here. I'm just curious. What, did the coma make him forget about being evil or something?"
"He's not evil, Tim," Bruce chided.
"Wow, some coma. Should try stabbing more of the bad guys, see if we can't bleed it out of them."
"I meant he was never evil. He's a criminal, sure, but he's a troubled man trying to make the best of things. He's been clean since that phone of his started bringing in a stable income." He turned the wheel sharply, drifting into the turn into the cave. "Not to mention, that suggestion was pretty morbid. I'm concerned about those games you've been playing."
"Yeah, sure, it's the video games, Bruce. Definitely that," Tim drawled sarcastically. "And anyway, you dodged the question. Is he a good guy now, or what?"
"We'll talk later. I'm nearly there."
"Yeah, alright. See you soon."
The line went dead.
It wasn't like the kids weren't right to question the decision. It had been spontaneous, and he hadn't given them any warning, just shown up with a notorious criminal who was supposed to be in a coma.
But they hadn't seen Edward, not like Bruce had, desperately trying to hold onto something that had made him happy in a way that didn't get anyone hurt after putting all that work into changing how he lived his life... and, well, maybe Bruce was taking advantage of him, but maybe he'd found a solution that would work for both of them, in the end.
As for if Edward could be considered a 'good guy' now...
Well, one thing at a time. They had a mad psychiatrist/mad neuroscientist teamup to dismantle, first.
---
There were a few things Edward learned in subsequent visits to the Batcave.
One: The cave was cold, most of the time. There was more heat near the generators and computers, but for the vast majority of the subterranean space, there was a chill.
Two: The cave was loud, a lot of the time. Said generators produced as much sound as heat, and all noises echoed. These echoes often upset the bats.
Two and a half: There were literal bats in the Batman's Batcave.
And, finally, three: The cave was empty, almost none of the time. If it weren't for the fact that every person coming and going had a clear purpose for doing so, he'd wonder if they weren't posting a guard rotation on him. Robin, Batgirl, even Nightwing popping in to follow up on the leads from Edward's list, and, of course, the Batman himself, who was directly responsible for his presence there every time- they all circulated in and out ad infinitum, sometimes out to the city with one of the vehicles, sometimes up the mysterious staircase to wherever the cave connected up above, but always with someone left behind to tend to something in the cave itself.
Edward had taken to tinkering with his prototype here, where he could borrow Batman's myriad expensive, specialized tools, and compare the pocket computer's performance to the monster machine Batman kept down here.
Robin had taken to staring at him.
"Can I help you?" Edward grumbled, slamming the 'enter' key hard enough to jar his knuckle.
"Nope, I've got things covered over here."
The 'things' were a pile of motorcycle parts, ostensibly being cleaned up and repaired, though he'd been scrubbing at one spot for the better part of the last half hour while Edward ran heavy programs on both machines simultaneously, timing the lag on the prototype.
"Just got used to seeing you bald."
A hand shot up to his hair, defensively. It had been growing out, slowly, since he'd last gotten out of Arkham and it was no longer being shaved regularly (on dubious 'concerns' about nanomachines or some such nonsense. Couldn't they just take a lice comb to his hair or something? Was it really necessary to shave it all off?). Spending the better part of a month unconscious had gotten him past that awkward stage where the cowlick in his bangs sent the short hairs straight up, and it was almost long enough now to see the natural wave come back.
"And evil," Robin continued.
Edward shot him a glare. "If you've got something to say about my being here, take it up with your boss."
Robin held his hands up, placating. "No, no. That's not it." He shrugged. "I just mean that it's weird, right?"
"You can say that again..." Edward grumbled. The Batcomputer ran flawlessly, even on a program designed to use up copious space. The prototype lagged by a few seconds, but considering the old Dell he'd been competing it with previously had crashed during this test several times, it wasn't a bad performance.
"So..." Robin started up again, setting aside whatever part he'd been messing with to retrieve another. "How're things going with the big guy?"
Edward narrowed his eyes at the kid suspiciously. "What do you mean, 'things'?"
"You know, like..." The little half-shrug was too stilted to be as nonchalant as he'd clearly wanted it to be. "Romance-wise."
"What?!"
"Like, I dunno. Have you kissed, or what?"
"No!" Edward sputtered, tests forgotten. "What?! No! Why would you even-?!"
"I'm just curious!" This couldn't be happening. "He goes to visit you every day in the hospital, you wake up to his voice from a coma , he brings you to his super-secret sanctum where only trusted allies are allowed to come... It just seemed like something was happening there."
"Well! You're wrong! Nothing is happening!" He bristled. "I don't want to talk about this with you! You're, like, twelve!"
"I'm sixteen," Robin argued, as though it were much better.
"Excellent, yeah, just great. I definitely would rather talk to a sixteen-year-old about my pathetic romantic life, yeah." Edward buried his face in his hands, half-hoping the kid would disappear while he wasn't looking. Someone had to have picked that trick up from the big Bat, right?
Robin did not disappear, though. No, Robin just kept fucking talking. "You've got a chance, you know. If you wanna take it."
"Oh my god."
"He's really awkward and bad at talking, but he knows how you feel, right? And he still brought you onboard. That means something, doesn't it?"
The kid made a lot of sense. Edward wanted to believe it, too. He'd woken up with his hand in Batman's, hadn't he? He'd half-convinced himself he'd hallucinated that part by now, but Batman had been there, for sure. And the way they talked, it hadn't been the first visit, either.
"He also hasn't said or done anything to acknowledge anything you think he may know, so what's more likely is that he's trying to forget about the whole thing," Edward grumbled.
"He doesn't say much in general," Robin pointed out. "Listen, you don't have to believe me, but you should know- When I say no one gets to see the cave, I mean no one gets to see the cave. You know full well how secretive he can be. It means something."
Edward ran his hands along the green casing of his little computer, shutting down the test and unhooking it from the big screen. "...If you're wrong about this, I will go back to building deathtraps just to put you in one. Don't think I won't."
"Sure, Eddie. Sure."
---
Edward kept a nice little apartment these days, a lavish little suite full of shiny expensive things and teeming with half a dozen hired hands to keep the place looking sharp while the riddle-brained tenant cooped himself up with his personal projects. It seemed he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, now that he had a consistent disposable income, like he'd splurged on all the things a kid would think of as luxuries, just because he could. It had its own little charm, a very clear and obvious reflection of its occupant, and Bruce enjoyed taking in all the new statues and knickknacks and paintings he accumulated between visits.
Today, it was strangely quiet, and the apartment felt twice as big as it usually did.
Something felt off. Bruce readied himself for danger, sweeping through the rooms silently, watching out for any intruders or clues or even just a little note tacked up somewhere, with a 'hey, Batman, I know you were coming to talk about the case, but I needed to step out for a minute and I'm totally fine'.
The library was as empty as the sitting room, as was the bedroom, and it was when Bruce was checking in on the game room with its three in-progress jigsaw puzzles and untouched billiards table that he heard a disturbance.
"Ow, shit!"
It was Edward's voice, definitely, and coming from the direction of the kitchen. Bruce... hadn't even thought to check the kitchen, what with Edward's admitted reliance on takeout, but it was an obvious oversight now.
He swept back through the place, cape snapping behind him dangerously close to several trinkets and baubles, shucking aside his regard for petty objects in favor of haste. Muffled swearing continued to drift from the kitchen, and he only hoped he'd get there before Edward could be injured again. Visions of him lying in a pool of blood under the knife of some unexpected assailant swam in his head.
"Eddie?" He called, looming in the doorway.
Edward spun, jolting. He had one hand under a spray of water, fingers pink, and a fully-occupied range behind him. A deep pot of water, a pan of sizzling steaks, something hidden by a steam-cloaked lid...
"Batman! I was... expecting you closer to sunset."
He stood by awkwardly, watching Edward pat dry his hands on a familiar green apron, 'kiss the genius' emblazoned across the chest.
"We..." He hesitated, watching Edward flip the steak, recognizing the meal. The squealing noises from the bubbling pot were quieting already. "We think we know where Quinn and Tetch are hiding out. If we're going to ambush them tonight, it'll be better to get ready ahead of time."
"Ah." Edward lifted the lid of the second pot, giving the potatoes within a stir. "I suppose that means you don't have time for dinner, then? Pity. The food all went to waste last time, too."
Around the corner, the dining area was set for two, plates and napkins and silverware and condiments, waiting for them. The candles weren't lit, new and whole where they perched in the silver candelabras. Green, of course. Edward loved his thematic touches.
"Eddie... what is all this?"
He wiped his hands down, the steak moving onto a cutting board to rest. The potatoes tipped into a colander. He winced as the hot steam billowed past the burns on his hand.
"Why are lobsters always getting into fights?" Edward asked, ducking into a cabinet for the potato masher. He flipped it in the air, expertly, returning to the drained pot. "No guesses? It's because they're shellfish." He paused, masher hovering over the potatoes. "You aren't allergic, are you? Com plete ly forgot to ask."
"I'm not," Bruce confirmed, "but you didn't-"
"The last time, I was serious, you know. I didn't mean for the cops to ambush us, but I suppose I also didn't expect you to smash the window in. Got little glass shards all in the dishes. Very dangerous, by the way." A pat of butter, a shake of seasoning, a splash of milk. "But the request for a meal together was very real."
"I... know."
Edward had retrieved a set of tongs, and was fishing the now-red lobsters from their pot. His hands shook. There was a splash of boiling water, the first lobster falling back in, and Edward swore, clutching his hand to his chest.
"Go rinse it. I'll get them out."
"No, I can-" He withered under Bruce's harsh look, slinking off to the sink. "Thank you."
Bruce pulled the lobsters, setting them out onto the dish Edward had readied. By the time he finished, moving to bring the other plates over, his host was drying the water away, dark spots soaking the apron now.
"I know you were mad at me, last time, since I tricked you, and all, and maybe it was stupid to try the same thing again, and remind you of all that, but I really, really wanted..." Edward wrung his hands, fingers twisting in his palms. They were so red. He was trying so hard. "I didn't do it right, before. I thought it might be different this time. I thought I could try again."
"It's-" not the time, he wanted to finish, or maybe too much, but there was a familiar desperation in his eyes, a tremor in his burned hands, and Bruce couldn't find it in him to say no, no matter how gently. "I... appreciate it. The effort."
Edward deflated. He looked defeated, more than he ever had when they went toe-to-toe as the Riddler and the Batman. Bruce hadn't said it right.
"I mean... the work you've been putting in. We would've never made progress on the Cobblepot case without your help. We'd already declared it shut. And Hatter's hideout. We're ready to move tonight because your list had the clue." He gestured vaguely at the food around the kitchen, waiting to be plated. "And this. You're working hard. I appreciate it."
"So, you don't mean..." A little hope dared to glimmer, Edward's shoulders raising by an inch.
"We have time before we need to head out. Why don't you show me what you've done?"
Bruce had expected some measure of enthusiasm. He'd expected Edward to maybe rush the food to the table, possibly spout out another lobster-based pun, tell him the steak was a rare treat-
He wasn't prepared to suddenly have the man barrelling into his chest, arms thrown around his neck and hands fisted in his cape.
"Eddie...?"
Edward shook his head, buzzed-short hair tickling at Bruce's chin. His hands squeezed tighter. "Give me a minute."
"Okay," Bruce sighed. "Take all the time you need."
Edward laughed at that, a little hysterically. "We'd be here all night if I took you up on that."
"Would we really?" Bruce tried to pull back to look at him, but Edward buried his face more firmly into his neck. He couldn't quite tell if he was joking.
"Oh, please, Bats. I almost died for you. If I haven't made it clear enough by now..." Another little shake of his head, or maybe it was a nuzzle. His grip didn't relent. Bruce wondered if he would make good on his threat.
Bruce pet gentle circles into Edward's back, knuckles bumping across the knobs of his spine beneath the thin shirt he wore. At the bottom of each stroke, his fingers caught on the ties of the apron. "You know, if you do keep me here all night, the food will get cold."
"Hmm... Well, we can't have that," Edward agreed.
He made no move to leave.
"...I'm sorry I can't just say things. I really do try." His voice was muffled, pressed into the drape of Bruce's cape, like he half-hoped Bruce wouldn't hear him.
"It's alright. It might take me a while, but I do get it eventually," Bruce assured him.
Another shake of the head, definitely a shake this time. "You were so upset about the riddle I gave Hill. You didn't say anything, but I could see it. And before... with the assassins. You were mad at me then, too. The riddles are easier, but they make you angry with me."
"Oh." So that's what he was worried about. Edward made to move away, retreating in on himself. Bruce cleared his throat, freezing him in place. "Then... I need to apologize, too."
Edward snorted in disbelief, half-hysterical with anxiety. "What for?"
"I can come off as... brusque. When I'm worried about someone. The boys have told me the same thing. It's... something I need to work on." And, oh, if Alfred could see him admitting that. He'd have to swear Edward to secrecy. Assuming they didn't both drop dead from the awkward tension alone, first. "It wasn't the riddles that upset me. It was the fact that you were in danger, and that you weren't prioritizing your own safety. It's... Your safety's important to me. I want it to be important to you, too."
Edward had flushed, red to the tips of his ears, while Bruce awkwardly strung words together like each one had to be pried out of him. "Worried, huh...?"
Bruce grunted an affirmation. Edward grinned up at him, a tentative, wavering thing.
"Can I..." He made a vague sort of movement with his burned hands, gesturing in Bruce's general direction without communicating much of anything.
"What?"
"Just-"
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached up towards Bruce's face. The cowl, of course. His fingers rested on either side of it, thumbs brushing at Bruce's cheekbones.
He closed his eyes, ready to feel the mask slide back.
Instead, to his surprise, a pair of warm lips brushed across his own, gone as quickly as they appeared.
Edward cleared his throat. "Well, ah, that's all I- um- wanted to do, so..."
"Wait." It was too fast, too sudden. Bruce hadn't had time to process it yet. He gripped Edward's wrists, keeping him from moving back.
"Batman...?"
It only took a little tug to draw Edward back toward him. With a bump and a bit of ungraceful flailing, Edward was wrapped around him again, eagerly taking kiss after clumsy kiss like he'd been given his first breath of fresh air in years from Bruce's lips. Bruce's own hesitation melted away under the fire of Edward's enthusiasm, finally feeling sure about what it was he wanted.
He pulled Edward away, just to take a breath, holding him close with one hand scratching gentle lines into the fuzzy nape of his neck.
"Do you smell something burning?"
Bruce blinked, suddenly aware of the building acrid scent. "We turned the stove off, didn't we?"
Edward spun around, whispering to himself as he pointed to each of the dishes in turn. "There shouldn't have been any- the soufflé!"
In a rush, Edward dove for the oven, flinging it open and digging his fingers into his hair. A light grey cloud of smoke billowed forth, tingeing the air around it.
Bruce leaned around to see what the damage was. The dessert had collapsed into itself, dark blackened bubbles encroaching on the depressed center from all sides. "Maybe it's salvageable?" Bruce offered.
Edward turned a withering look at him. "It's a fucking soufflé."
"So, uh... this is... bad, then?" Bruce surmised.
"A total disaster. Fuck." Edward sighed heavily, breath shaking. Bruce hoped he wasn't about to cry. "I just wanted it all to go right this time..."
"Well..." Bruce chewed at his lip, glancing at the clock. The hour ticked late, the seconds marked by the swinging question mark dangling beneath the timepiece. "You could always try again. In, uh, in my kitchen, maybe? Next time?"
"Next time." Edward blinked up at him, frozen. "Your kitchen."
He moved slowly, methodically pulling the ruined dessert from the oven, flicking the appliance off, opening a window to let the smoke out.
"Your kitchen," he repeated, turning back to Bruce and leaning back on the sink, like it was supporting the weight of the offer where Edward's legs could not.
"Yes. My kitchen."
"In your house."
"In my house."
"Where you walk around as... whoever you are. Not Batman."
Bruce shrugged. "Well, that's arguable. Alfred always says I have trouble turning the Batman part off."
"Alfred?"
Bruce held out a hand, palm up. "Why don't I introduce you to the family? Properly, this time."
---
It was funny, Edward mused, tucking himself back under Bruce's chin after moving his bishop decidedly. This had all started, really, with trying to get Batman to play chess with him, hadn't it? Bruce had refused then, threatened to have him arrested, even, but now they were here, Edward in his lap and Bruce reaching around to slide forward a rook.
"What are you thinking about?" Bruce's murmur tickled at the short hairs finally curling around Edward's ears.
"Just counting how many moves I'll beat you in," he lied. "I believe I'll have it in five."
"Is that so?"
The knight tapped into its new position. Edward sent a smirk over his shoulder, taunting Batman with his perfect strategy.
Bruce ducked in, stealing an unexpected kiss. Edward melted into it, turning to putty as he always did, hands seeking Bruce's strong jaw as though he could pull him in any closer.
A pair of soft taps came from behind him.
"What did you-" Bruce had moved a pawn clear across the board, setting it next to Edward's king, which he'd toppled over. "Hey! That's cheating!"
Bruce snickered, stealing one more kiss. Edward didn't deny him. "Come on. We're late for dinner."
Edward immediately perked up. "You're taking me to that new seafood place, right?"
"I am. And we'll miss our reservation if we don't get going."
"Oh, please. Like they wouldn't hold the table forever for you." Edward rolled his eyes. "And don't think this will make me forget about your cheating! We're playing a rematch as soon as we get home!"
"You can hold me to that, if you like," Bruce offered, "or we could think of more interesting things to do with our evening."
Edward had to consider that one. He was really miffed about the game.
Bruce groaned. "You're insufferable."
"But you love me for it," Edward taunted.
It earned him a fond smile and a kiss to the temple. "I do."
