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The Riddler had at least twenty safe houses in Gotham, and Bruce knew the locations of twelve of them, but for tonight, that was enough. An art museum in the diamond district had been robbed, with the perpetrator leaving behind a sudoku puzzle. He set the puzzle to Barbara to deal with while he visited the Riddler’s nearest five safe houses. There was a reason he was called the Prince of Puzzles after all.
Annoyingly, the safehouses turned up blank, at which point Bruce had to turn back to Barbara.
“Oracle, any other habitations of the Riddler within ten blocks of the diamond district?”
“Only the five safehouses we know about. Though I’m looking now, and a penthouse apartment sold just two months ago in Skyline Apartments. You’re close by.”
“Got it,” Bruce said, programming the address into his bat-gps, “Thank you, Oracle.”
The apartment building was clean and well-kept, though certainly not discreet, towering over its surrounding peers by at least a few floors. It’s security system, however, was rather sophisticated. Not sophisticated enough to stop Barbara of course, but it could protect itself from almost any threat that wasn’t Batman.
Bruce entered the penthouse silently. He had seen through the wide windows that the room was lavishly furnished and very green, so he had little fear that this wasn’t the Riddler’s current abode.
It was rare that anything shocked Bruce; he had lived through any number of threats to Gotham, all kinds of costumed villains and vigilantes, schemes that would sound unreal to anyone else. There was no outcome he didn’t plan for.
Except apparently, this one.
Because when he entered the large penthouse bedroom, he had expected to find Edward Nygma in all his Riddler regalia, standing aside all his stolen goods, with a brand new riddle to present him. He expected that he would have to land a few well-placed punches and be making the well-known by now trip to Arkham, with Nygma’s annoyed grumblings serving as background noise.
He had not expected to find Nygma fast asleep in his bed, snoring lightly, his head resting on the chest of one Jonathan Crane, who was carding one long-fingered hand through the other man’s hair. He was looking down at Edward, looking up silently when he felt Bruce’s presence in the room. His hand stilled, and beneath him Edward groaned sleepily, so he resumed his ministrations, whispering suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” They had gotten out of Arkham legally this time. Well, technically. Oswald had owed them a favour and used his wealth and pull among city officials to arrange their release. Still, Batman had no reason to be there, and he had no obligation to be welcoming.
Bruce took in the surprisingly domestic scene before him, almost losing his composure but gaining it swiftly back. He kept his voice low, not wanting to know what would happen if he woke a sleeping Riddler.
“There was a robbery at the Art Museum two blocks from here. They left a puzzle behind. Naturally, I wanted to rule out Nygma’s involvement.”
Crane glared at him behind his glasses, the intimidation factor diminished by the plaid button up pyjamas he was wearing and the snoring redhead trying to burrow into his chest. “You’re a detective, I think you can deduce that Edward hasn’t been doing anything Riddler-esque tonight.
“Yes.” Bruce reluctantly agreed, mostly just wanting to leave. It felt oddly invasive to see the pair like this, so calm and comfortable. So intimate.
“You can be on your way now.” Crane dismissed him, shooing him away.
Bruce ignored him. He was here now, and it always paid to know more about his rogues. He looked down at Edward’s sleeping form. His shining auburn hair, usually so perfectly slicked and styled, was tousled and mussed, free of product. He only now noticed that Edward had freckles, presumably painted over with foundation or concealer during the day.
“He looks so different when he’s asleep.” He commented.
“It’s because his mouth finally shuts.” Jonathan returned, smirking slightly. Then, almost to himself, “s’beautiful.” His hand never stopped stroking Edward’s hair.
“So you two are…”
“Partners.” Jonathan said, grinning widely.
“Right…” Bruce said, but there was still something he couldn’t wrap his head around, “and you like that he’s so…” he trailed off politely.
“Annoying?” Jonathan said, finishing his train of thought, “Egotistical? Arrogant?”
“Yes.” Bruce wouldn’t have put it that way personally, mostly because if they were legally out of Arkham and not committing any crimes, he didn’t really want to provoke them. It was in Gotham’s best interest if they were placid and sedate.
“Personally, I find it endearing – we all have our flaws.” As Jonathan said this, Edward nuzzled closer into his chest, a pleased humming noise coming from deep in his throat. Jonathan smiled fondly at him, before a large yawn took over his features. He set aside the book he had been reading and removed his glasses with precise movements.
“Detective, I would like you to leave now.” He said, “Much as I enjoy your company, I’d like to sleep now and I cannot do that with you here. You have gotten the information you came to get and have no reason to linger. I have a gun in my drawer that I would really hate to use as it would wake Ed here. So please leave.”
Batman took a moment to consider his words, nodded, and then was gone.
Jonathan wished he knew how to do that – to just vanish. It would help with his fear factor immensely, but right now he had more important things to think about, like how he was going to manoeuvre himself into a position more conducive to sleeping without waking Edward up. They were both light sleepers by necessity and, in his case, nature as well, and nightmares, while not common, were more frequent for them than the average person.
He shifted slowly, resting Ed’s head against the pillow as he moved to tuck himself under the silk covers. To his mild annoyance, Ed woke slightly, blinking blearily and groaning. Wanting to avoid a cranky, tired Edward, Jon quickly wrapped his spindly arms around the other man, returning to his earlier stroking and grinning smugly as Ed leaned into the touch, making a noise that sounded far closer to purring than Edward would ever admit.
Jon shushed him slightly and pulled him back to his previous position, with his head resting on Jon’s chest. Ed seemed to find him to be a comfortable pillow, in spite of his wiry skinniness, and Jonathan loved the warmth Edward gave off. They were perfectly matched, Jonathan thought, not for the first time, as they drifted off into sleep.
Outside, as Bruce made his way across Gotham, listening as Barbara told him the answer to the puzzle, he let his mind wonder to the pair of rogues. They honestly seemed pretty well-matched, a thought which worried him somewhat – who knew what would happen when the Riddler and Scarecrow put their heads together. But it was also incredibly strange to see his adversaries, usually so aggressive and flamboyant, so tender and domestic.
It unnerved him.