Every Which Way You Turn, I’m There
Rated E - Read on AO3
Jonathan knew he was creepy. Even before he began to relish in the sheer horror he could inflict on people, he had known that he was weird, unpleasant, even menacing at times. The way he looked was plenty unsettling, and matters didn’t improve if you were unlucky enough to discover anything about his temperament.
All the things that disgusted and frightened his peers were utterly fascinating to him— bugs, bats, ghosts and ghouls. In his youth he had visited every location in his hometown that was purported to be haunted, sorely disappointed to find that most of them were just normal places that became vaguely ominous after dark. He had long since stopped believing in anything supernatural. Besides, the natural world was sufficiently terrifying on its own.
Most of the time he genuinely wasn’t trying to be off-putting. Didn’t seem to matter either way, though; even when he was on his best behavior he was undeniably repulsive to most people. After a while he decided he might as well lean into it.
[[MORE]]He had a staring problem, too. He knew that. But that didn’t stop him from doing it. He knew better than to stare at women, for the most part, but with men… Somehow he had fewer reservations about how his actions would come across when it came to other men. Even though the consequences were arguably worse. He’d gotten into more than a few altercations because he looked too long at the wrong person.
Still, he never learned his lesson.
When he first saw Edward at the Iceberg he couldn’t help but stare. He was beautiful. Fiery red hair and porcelain skin dotted with freckles. His suit was garish but impeccably tailored; the quality was evident even if Jonathan didn’t agree with his style choices. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was pompous, with a well defined superiority complex. Everything Jonathan had heard about him suggested he would be utterly obnoxious to interact with. But, damn it, all he wanted to do was watch the other man as he flitted from conversation to conversation.
Edward noticed him fairly quickly. Their eyes had met from across the room. Edward had cocked his head slightly, regarding him. And then he had gone back to chatting with Oswald as if nothing had happened. Jonathan wasn’t bothered by this reaction; really, he was mostly surprised that Edward wasn’t visibly outraged by Jonathan’s fixation on him.
But Edward had made no effort to interact with him and neither had Jonathan. It wasn’t until two months later that they actually exchanged words.
This time they were in Arkham, their cells adjacent. They saw each other each morning when they were forced out into the hall for room checks. Jonathan usually spent this time staring conspicuously at Edward. Sometimes he stared back. Most days, though, he just pretended not to notice.
He hadn’t been expecting Edward to actually approach him. In his mind, they had made an unspoken agreement not to investigate whatever amount of mutual interest was present between them. Apparently Edward didn’t see it the same way.
He had slid into the seat across from Jonathan in the cafeteria, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Do we have a problem?” he asked tensely.
“No problems here,” Jonathan replied, his expression blank, unwavering.
“Then what do you want?” He didn’t seem angry, exactly. It was more like an air of agitated confusion. “Are you trying to fight me or fuck me?”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” he said. It was honest. He hadn’t even considered fucking Edward. He supposed he wouldn’t be against it, but his attraction to the other man wasn’t necessarily sexual. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted from Edward. He didn’t really want his attention or affection, didn’t care about building any sort of relationship with him. But he wanted to possess him, hold him hostage, keep him away from everyone else. God, Jonathan would eat him alive if he could. Suck the marrow from his bones.
Really, it’d be a lot easier if all he wanted was to fuck him.
He didn’t get the impression that Edward liked him all that much, which was fine. Jonathan wasn’t seeking any reciprocation of… whatever the hell it was that he felt for the other man. But there had to be something that drew Edward to him. Why else would he tolerate Jonathan’s bizarre behavior?
After their initial encounter, Jonathan found Edward in his immediate vicinity more often than not. Edward would sit at the same table as him, pretending he didn’t see anyone else there. He sat next to him in group sessions, and in the rec room. They had smoked together once or twice, silently passing cigarettes back and forth. It could hardly be described as social. But it was human contact and, regrettably, that was something he needed. Especially in a place like this.
He couldn’t tell what, if anything, Edward was getting out of this dynamic. Jonathan knew he wasn’t good company, and there were other people Edward could go to if that’s what he was seeking. Maybe he just enjoyed the attention. Jonathan certainly gave him plenty. Sometimes it felt like Edward was even performing for him. Making a show of planting himself in Jonathan’s field of vision and reading something or talking to someone or doing a crossword that was already weeks old. He would check to see if Jonathan was looking at him, which he generally was, but he didn’t react in a way that betrayed his opinion about being watched.
And then Christmas rolled around.
Everyone was extra miserable around the holidays, whether they were used to celebrating or not. Jonathan despised Christmas under the best circumstances, and spending it locked up had only calcified his bitterness.
Edward was in a visibly worse mood as well. He muttered to himself almost constantly, pausing only if he actually needed to talk to another person. Little scabs had joined the freckles on his arms, his face— he was picking his skin. And he was crying in his sleep. This, in particular, piqued Jonathan’s interest. The obvious conclusion to draw was that he was having nightmares, and fairly regular ones at that. Jonathan was tremendously curious about what sorts of fears haunted his subconscious, plaguing him while he slept. He had pressed his ear up against the wall one night, hoping to hear something more distinct, something he could glean any amount of information from. But all he could make out were muffled sobs.
When Edward emerged from his cell the next morning, his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. The edge of his sleeve was wet. He met Jonathan’s clinical gaze, jaw tensing. He seemed to be bracing himself, as if he was anticipating some sort of degradation. For once, Jonathan looked away.
Jonathan was sitting on the lumpy couch in the rec room, half watching whatever nature documentary Pamela had insisted on since it was her turn to pick. Something about the rainforest. After a while, Edward shuffled into the room. He stood uncertainly in the doorway, looking around. His gaze settled on Jonathan. He started walking towards him.
He plopped heavily onto the couch between Jonathan and Pamela, markedly closer to Jonathan. He shifted slightly so their knees were touching. He wouldn’t look Jonathan in the eye.
He wasn’t sure if it was worse to acknowledge the gesture or ignore it. Edward didn’t seem to want to draw any attention to it. His eyes were fixed intently on the television screen. Jonathan could see his lower lip trembling.
In an uncharacteristic display of sensitivity, he murmured, “Are you alright?”
Edward swallowed hard, but he didn’t say anything. He was toying nervously with one of the buttons on his shirt.
It occurred to him that, if there was something he wanted to say he probably didn’t want to say it in front of everyone else in the room. “Smoke?” he suggested, providing an excuse to leave.
He nodded stiffly, standing up and making his way briskly out into the hall. Jonathan followed him.
It took a couple cigarettes before Edward said anything. Luckily, Jonathan had been building up a supply. Staff doled out two cigarettes per day to anyone who had a clean enough behavioral record or a foul enough disposition that the nicotine was a necessary prerequisite to compliance— Jonathan was in the latter category.
Often, even inmates that didn’t smoke would fall in line to receive their ration since they made for decent currency. Jonathan traded Jervis his daily Risperidone for his two allotted cigarettes, and he could usually get Harley to give hers up in exchange for a handful of Ambien. He kept his small tobacco hoard, along with other assorted contraband, in a hollowed out book that he jammed under his thin mattress. He wanted to conserve his resources as much as possible, so he and Edward usually shared cigarettes. But now seemed as good a time as any to indulge in little harmless chain smoking.
So Edward sat beside him, knees pulled up to his chest, his third cigarette held gingerly between two fingers. He sighed, staring listlessly at the ground in front of him. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he mumbled finally. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Jonathan nodded slowly. He was oddly stirred by the weary sadness in his voice. It felt improper, seeing Edward so despondent. “Okay,” he said. “Then let’s get out of here.”
Edward looked over at him, brows knitted together. “Do you have a plan?”
“No. But I can come up with one.” He knew the asylum like the back of his hand, and that was half the battle right there. It would take a bit of luck, but it wasn’t impossible. Hell, if the Joker could do it then he’d probably be able to pull it off.
A riot was most likely the easiest way. It would overtax the staff and draw them to a central location, giving him and Edward a chance to slip away in the chaos. From there he knew several different routes out of the building and off the property. They could probably make it on foot, if things went according to plan, but it’d be better if they could get their hands on a vehicle from the lot. Either way, they would need keys.
“I can pick pockets,” Edward offered.
“Good, that’ll help.” He eyed the smaller man, appraising him. “How are you in a fight?”
He frowned. “Depends on who I’m fighting.”
“Can you take a punch?” he pressed. He really wasn’t trying to be judgmental or emasculating or anything like that— he just knew how these things could go, and it would be better for both of them if Edward was prepared for the possibilities.
“Of course.”
“Can you run fast?”
“Fast enough.”
Jonathan studied his face for any signs of trepidation. Edward just looked back at him, more composed than he had been in weeks.
“If I tell you what to do,” he began, “will you listen?”
Edward hesitated.
“You’ll have to trust me for this to work,” Jonathan pointed out. “Tell me now if that’s not possible.”
“I…” He seemed to have lost some of his conviction. “It’s possible,” he said carefully. “But if you screw me over I’ll bash your fucking skull in.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
They had to wait for the right moment. Edward was restless, understandably, but Jonathan tried to reassure him that the opportunity would present itself in due course, and he would recognize it when it did. No good would come from trying to force things into place to speed up the process. Though Edward begrudgingly agreed that it was better to bide their time, he still seemed deeply unsettled.
But they had to be patient.
As promised, their opening arrived. Not a moment too soon, either. It was February by the time everything finally came together. He could tell Edward was at the end of his rope, and if the plan failed he would probably lose his mind entirely. So it had to work.
It would work. He would make it work.
It was five thirty— dinner for their cell block. The previous group was on their way out, they were on their way in. Someone had pushed past Jonathan, shoulder shoving against his. In an instant he saw a course of action unfold before him. It was like he was suddenly overcome with an incredible sense of clarity. He just hoped things would turn out as well as they had in his mind.
Jonathan grabbed a fork from the pile of discarded trays, whipping around to plunge it into the other inmate’s neck. They let out a scream as their hands scrabbled at the utensil protruding from their throat, skin already slick with blood. They lurched towards Jonathan as if intending to swing on him, but he ducked deftly out of the way. They instead collided into someone else entirely, who did not seem particularly pleased to say the least. He darted away from whatever situation was about to unfold there, snagging one of the plastic trays as he did. He scanned the room for any sign of Edward. Whipped the tray like a frisbee into the back of someone’s skull for good measure.
People were starting to turn their attention toward the mess he had made. A few of them had even inserted themselves into the brawl, though it was unclear if any of them had personal allegiance to either person they were defending. Most of them probably just wanted an excuse to hit someone. He had been counting on that.
The timing had been critical too— night shift began at five, and they were always woefully understaffed. The overlap between dinner groups meant an influx of inmates and staff in the area, fewer people anywhere else. Plus it was C and D block. They were the ones who were too unstable for cellmates. If there was a fight to be had, they were probably the ones having it. And, as a general rule, they were not known for fighting fair.
All the pieces had presented themselves, laid out neatly for him to assemble. He knew it would be worth waiting.
He spotted Edward amidst the crowd of onlookers that was steadily forming, making a beeline towards him. Instinctively, he reached out to take his hand.
Edward practically jumped a foot in the air. “Jesus, where’d you come from?” He looked down at Jonathan’s hand, closed firmly around his. “What the hell is going on?”
“It’s time to leave,” he said, giving Edward’s hand a slight tug. “Now.”
He didn’t ask any more questions.
They bolted through the halls, Jonathan listening for the sound of Edward’s footsteps to make sure he was still following. Edward didn’t have any trouble keeping up, though. He had been underselling how fast he was. Jonathan got the sense that he could easily outrun him if he had any idea where they were going.
They skidded to a halt in front of the gate that sealed off the cellblock. Jonathan’s heart plummeted. Of course he had forgotten something, something important. “Keys,” he mumbled to himself. Since the decision to enact their escape plan today had been completely spontaneous, he hadn’t thought to tell Edward to get the keys he had been holding onto since New Year’s. “Fuck.”
“You mean these?”
He turned around. Edward was dangling a set of keys in front of his face, grinning smugly. They were attached to a lanyard bearing an ID card.
Christ, Jonathan could’ve kissed him, he was so relieved. “You’re incredible,” he marveled. “How did you know to bring them?”
“I bring them everywhere,” he said, as if it was obvious. “I don’t leave anything in my cell that I wouldn’t want to lose.”
Under any other circumstances Jonathan would’ve found that a bit paranoid, but he couldn’t be critical of the thought process that had literally just saved his ass.
Once they were past the gate there were options to consider. If they wanted to get to the parking lot they would have to go through the main floor, where there would almost certainly be orderlies. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that they would be able to make it through, but it would be treacherous. The next best option was the series of tunnels under the building. Arguably less dangerous but probably less pleasant as well. There was also the fact that it would put them outside the grounds, which meant they would have to walk— there was no way he was going to risk doubling back just for a car. It was maybe… four miles to the edge of the city? Doable, but he’d be feeling the consequences the next day. And probably a great many days after that.
“Which way?” Edward asked, cutting through Jonathan’s thoughts.
If it was only him, he probably would’ve gone for the front door. Much more straightforward. But having Edward with him complicated things.
“Left,” he decided.
As they made their way through the asylum, Jonathan kept his eyes trained on the walls. He was looking for something, couldn’t quite remember where it was, but he’d know it when he saw it.
“How much further?” Edward was asking.
“Let me focus,” he said sharply.
Finally he saw it: a square where the paint was noticeably different than the surrounding wall. He stopped in front of it, gears turning inside his head. He lifted his foot, kicking the spot as hard as he could. Even with the soft soled shoes they were forced to wear, he was able to put a hole in the flimsy drywall. He freed his foot, starting to pull pieces of the wall away to reveal the opening of what used to be a trash chute.
“Don’t tell me I have to get in there,” Edward said. Jonathan couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or nervous.
“It’s not a far drop.” The chute hadn’t been used in probably fifty years, if not longer, but it hadn’t been walled off until a certain clown made use of it to flee in the dead of night, aided by a particularly impressionable psychiatrist who was promptly fired for her ridiculously poor judgment.
“What’s at the bottom?”
“…The floor.” He glanced back at Edward. “Ever done a safety roll?”
“No.” Now he definitely looked nervous.
“Well. Just… try not to bust your kneecaps,” he said lamely. “It’ll make escaping a lot harder.”
“Thanks, great advice,” Edward grumbled. “How far?”
“Not far.”
“But how far?” he asked again.
“We don’t have time for this,” he snapped. “If you’re too scared you’re welcome to stay here and deal with whatever consequences they see fit to subject you to, but I’m not waiting around to get caught.” He climbed feet first into the opening, allowing himself to drop down onto the concrete floor below. As soon as his feet touched solid ground he propelled himself forward into a roll, ending in a sort of crouched position. He stood up, not getting a chance to turn around before he heard a thud followed by something slamming into his back.
“Shit,” Edward hissed, hand settling between Jonathan’s shoulder blades to steady himself. “Sorry.”
He was just glad the man had enough sense to get over whatever apprehension he had about the jump. “Knees and ankles intact?”
“As far as I can tell.” His touch lingered on Jonathan’s spine for a moment before he snatched his hand away. “Where are we?”
“Basement.” His eyes began adjusting to the dark. He could discern the faint outline of a door. Making his way carefully toward it, he checked the handle. It was unlocked. He pulled the door open, inky blackness stretching out in front of him. “Come on,” he said, stepping into the tunnel.
Edward didn’t follow him right away. “God, you’re not going to kill me in there, are you?”
“Not unless you give me a reason to.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Are you coming or not?”
“Okay, okay.”
Jonathan set off into the darkness. Edward fell into step beside him. He was close, close enough that their hands brushed together as they walked. He couldn’t tell if Edward noticed, much less if he cared. But every time they touched Jonathan felt a spike of something not altogether unpleasant.
“How did you… know about this?” Edward asked after a while. “This exit.”
“I used to work here.” The tunnels weren’t really being used for anything by the time he ended up there, but from what he knew they had served a variety of purposes. Transporting garbage and laundry out of the building. Bringing inmates in covertly, particularly if it was a high profile case or someone wealthy enough to be afforded privacy by an establishment like Arkham. Disposing of the dead bodies no one had bothered to claim. Personally, he used to go down there to get high before they got sealed off.
“Seriously?” He was incredulous.
“Yes.” His stint as an employee at Arkham seemed like a lifetime ago. He hardly missed it. The conditions were horrid and the pay was worse. The only people desperate enough to work there were entry level graduates and ethically dubious professionals that had been quietly dismissed from more reputable institutions.
“As what?”
He glanced at Edward, only really able to make out the vague shape of him. “Therapist.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, they’ll hire anybody in this place,” he muttered under his breath.
“Yeah, that’s why I applied.”
Edward didn’t say anything in response, and Jonathan wasn’t about to initiate a conversation, so they kept on in silence.
Eventually, the quiet seemed to start wearing on Edward. “What the hell is your deal, anyway?”
“Not sure I know what you mean.”
“I mean, are you— are we— what’s going on here?” He sounded almost exasperated. “You like me.” It was more of an accusation than a statement.
“Sure,” he said noncommittally.
“I can tell that you do,” he insisted, as if he didn’t consider that a satisfactory admission.
“Well, I’m not exactly trying to hide it.”
He fell silent again. Then, after a few moments, “I saw you at the Iceberg.”
“I remember.”
“…You looked good,” he mumbled.
Jonathan didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to that. “So did you,” he said eventually.
He could see the end of the tunnel, illuminated by pale moonlight. His heartbeat picked up speed. They weren’t at all close to the end of their journey, but even just getting off the property would be a victory in itself.
Before they could make it into the faint light, he felt Edward’s hand on his chest, shoving him up against the wall. Jonathan made a startled sound, beginning to ask what the fuck Edward thought he was doing, and then all of a sudden he was being kissed. Forcefully. Edward pressed his body up against him. Slid a hand up the back of his shirt.
Jonathan wouldn’t have anticipated any of this in a million years. He had never suspected Edward had any physical attraction to him. He had no reason to. But why else would he be… kissing him?
It had been so long since he’d kissed anybody, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He sort of just stood there. Let Edward press his fingers against his skin. It felt nice, and that terrified him.
When he didn’t immediately reciprocate, Edward pulled away. Jonathan couldn’t quite make out his features in the dark.
“Sorry,” Edward muttered. “I just… I had to.”
“It’s fine.” He didn’t understand what Edward meant by that, but he couldn’t really think straight at the moment anyway.
“Did you… did you hate it?” he asked tentatively.
“No,” he admitted. “I liked it.”
“Didn’t seem that way.”
“You just caught me off guard. Wasn’t sure how to act.” He didn’t know if he should try and kiss Edward back, or if it was better to just let the moment pass. After all, it was hardly the time for such things. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Edward’s hand was still on his chest. He was so close Jonathan could feel the warmth of his breath on his neck. “I’ll forgive you if you let me try again.”
Jonathan felt heat rising in his face. “Yeah, alright.”
So Edward kissed him a second time, and he did his best to be more… engaged. He brought his hand hesitantly to the back of Edward’s head, feeling the softness of his hair. His other hand came to rest on his waist. He let Edward’s tongue work its way into his mouth, his own tongue moving involuntarily to meet it. Edward made a small noise in the back of his throat, the hand on his chest forming a fist in the coarse fabric of his shirt. His lips moved insistently against Jonathan’s.
They kissed until Jonathan couldn’t breathe, pulling back to suck in air. He felt a little bit dizzy. “We can’t stay down here forever, you know,” he mumbled, despite not particularly wanting Edward to stop. “We’re not in the clear yet.”
“Let’s keep going, then.” Edward cleared his throat, releasing his shirt. “Out of here, I mean.”
Jonathan nodded, though Edward probably couldn’t see it. They started moving again, the dimly lit opening of the tunnel looming closer and closer.
And then they were outside. The night air was cool and crisp, the surrounding woods eerily silent. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. They were free.
Now they just had to make it somewhere safe.
“Great,” Edward grumbled. “We’re in the middle of the forest. Now what?”
“We start walking.” He looked around in an attempt to get his bearings. They had come out at the back of the asylum, which meant the road was in the opposite direction. His gaze landed on the fence running along the perimeter of the grounds. He supposed they could follow it until they ended up at the front gate and then walk along the road until they made it back to the city. They’d have to stay out of sight, though. As long as he was close enough to see the fence, they should be able to keep to the trees and avoid any watchful eyes. He pointed ahead. “This way.”
Edward didn’t question him. They started walking.
Jonathan couldn’t stop thinking about how Edward had kissed him. He was almost a little shell-shocked by it. It was so atypical for anyone to be interested in him that way, and he didn’t think Edward had even liked him on a basic level.
And then there was what he had said.
I had to.
How the fuck was he supposed to take that? Did he somehow, unknowingly, make him feel that way? Make him think that there was some obligation he was expected to fulfill?
I had to.
Jonathan could just ask him. But he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know the answer. That is, if Edward would even tell him. Tonight was probably the most they’d ever spoken to each other. Jonathan didn’t have a good sense of how he’d react to direct questioning.
“How far do you think it is?” Edward wondered, breaking the silence.
“A few miles.”
“Damn.” He looked down at his feet. “These are not good shoes to walk a few miles in.”
“We don’t always get what we want,” Jonathan said dryly.
“No, we most certainly don’t,” he muttered. “Though,” he said after a moment, “I guess this is the closest I’ve been to getting what I want in some time.”
He wondered what someone like Edward wanted. Not that he had a fully formed idea of what Edward was like at all. Jonathan had assumed he was shallow, particular. Untouchable. But that couldn’t be wholly true if he liked Jonathan. Which he seemed to. For whatever reason.
Almost as if he’d read his mind, Edward asked, “Would you have ever made a move?” His voice was unusually soft.
He didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t that he needed to think about his response— he knew he had absolutely no intention of making any kind of “move”— but he was a little embarrassed to admit it given the circumstances. “Probably not,” he said eventually. “It’s not something I usually do.”
Edward looked up at him curiously. “Why not?”
“Why should I?” he said, acrimony creeping into his tone. “Not like it’s ever gone well for me before.”
“Unlucky in love, I take it?”
“Too unlucky for love,” he corrected. “I’ve never…” The words wouldn’t leave his mouth. It felt shameful to admit that he had never been loved. Or been in love. It felt so rudimentary, like something anyone should be able to experience, but the concept was entirely foreign to him. “It’s not something I do,” he repeated.
“…Seems lonely,” was all Edward said in response.
“Yeah. It is.”
They fell silent again. It wasn’t until the highway was in sight that Jonathan finally said something. “If we follow the road we’ll end up by the airport,” he said. “And then from there… well, I don’t know if you have somewhere you’re planning to go.”
“Hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” He seemed to be considering whatever he perceived as his options. “I’ll figure something out,” he said quietly.
“If you need somewhere to stay,” Jonathan started without really thinking about it, “I mean, you could… I’d let you stay with me. If you wanted to.”
He could feel Edward’s eyes on him. “I don’t make a good roommate, you know,” he warned.
“Neither do I.”
“But why are you— I mean, you barely know me. I don’t understand why you would… offer that.”
Jonathan shrugged. “You said it yourself. I like you.”
This didn’t seem to satisfy him. “But—“
“Look, it’s just an offer,” he interrupted. “Consider it a favor. Accept it or don’t, doesn’t make any difference to me.”
Edward sighed, but he didn’t say anything for a while. Then, he finally grumbled, “Damn it. I think I’ll have to take you up on that.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean— I just wish I had something more… That I didn’t have to rely on someone I hardly know for a place to stay. It’s not fair. To you, I mean.”
“I told you, it doesn’t make a difference to me.” He wasn’t necessarily pleased by the idea of having another person in his home, but he knew what it was like to have nowhere to go. It didn’t feel right to inflict that upon Edward if he didn’t have to. “I wouldn’t offer if I gave a shit about that.”
He could tell Edward didn’t entirely believe him, but he didn’t argue.
Jonathan had no idea how long they’d been walking by the time he saw the city lights in the distance. His feet and legs were aching, but he was doing his best to ignore it. Edward seemed to be faring only slightly better than he was; they had both slowed significantly compared to when they started. Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was better to stop and rest or to try and preserve what little momentum they still had. He looked over his shoulder, trying to gauge how far they’d come.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, glancing over at Edward.
“Tired.” He sighed heavily. “Wish we’d gotten a car.”
“I decided it made more sense not to. Too risky.”
“Right, and walking on the side of the road until we get caught or die of exhaustion is a much safer option.”
“We’re not going to get caught, and we’re not going to die.” He grabbed Edward’s hand, pulling him deeper into the woods. “We can take a break as long as we stay out of sight.”
As soon as Jonathan let go of him, Edward collapsed flat on his back. How dramatic. “Would’ve been nice to have eaten before this,” he muttered.
“Be grateful you’re not in handcuffs right now,” Jonathan said sternly as he sat down beside him.
That shut him up, at least for a moment. Then, he said, “I am. Grateful.” He turned his head to look at Jonathan. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Well, we haven’t quite ‘done it’ yet,” he pointed out. “Still a ways to go.”
“But I wouldn’t have even made it this far. At least, not without a lot more research and effort.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “You’ve been a valuable ally.”
Jonathan didn’t want to let Edward see how much the compliment affected him. He turned away. “I’m doing this for me as much as I am for you.”
“I know. I’m appreciative that you’re doing it for me at all.” He lay back against the forest floor again. “People don’t usually do me favors.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t usually do favors,” he said under his breath.
“But you said you’d do one for me.”
“I did. Don’t make me regret it.”
“So shall I infer that this means you’re particularly fond of me?” he asked, a self satisfied grin spreading across his face.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t infer anything.” He scowled. “A favor is just a favor.”
“It’s never just a favor.”
“With me, it is.” He reclined, resting the back of his head against his forearm. Stared up at a sky without stars. “My motives are probably not as complicated as you think they are.”
“Well, what are they, then?” Edward murmured. “I’m still not entirely sure what it is you want.”
“I don’t want anything. I just… I’m interested in you.” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He hadn’t exactly meant it like that. But maybe it wasn’t as untrue as he would like to believe. “You intrigue me.”
Edward hummed thoughtfully. “You’re interested in me,” he echoed.
“I hope I’m not unnecessarily inflating your ego,” Jonathan grumbled. “It’s not… I’m just curious.”
“Maybe I’m also a bit curious,” Edward said, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Though, I’ll restrain myself since we’re in the middle of the fucking woods fleeing the goddamn madhouse. Hardly an appropriate time to… indulge my curiosity.”
“I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to. Indulge.” The words left his mouth before he fully realized what he was saying.
Edward’s gaze shifted sharply, eyes trained on his face. “What exactly do you mean by that?” His tone was careful, but there was an edge of tension underneath it.
“Guess it depends what exactly you’re curious about.” He matched the intensity of Edward’s stare. “Tell me, Mr. Nygma, what could possibly interest you about an old scarecrow like me?”
Edward was on top of him in moments, lips crashing into his. His hands were on Jonathan’s shoulders, pinning him to the ground. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small. Though, most people seemed small to Jonathan.
He was pulled back to the present when Edward’s teeth sank into the side of his neck. “F-fuck,” he stammered, surprised by the suddenness of it. Surprised by how hard it made him, too.
Edward seemed to notice that, grinning into his skin. “Fascinating,” he purred. “So you do want to fuck me.”
“I mean…” Every fiber of his being said that he could never confess to something like that, even when his body made it so glaringly obvious. “Right now I do. I don’t think I did before.”
“Mm.” He ran the tip of his tongue along Jonathan’s jawline. “I think you did,” he murmured into his ear.
His face flushed. “And I guess you’re an expert in such things.”
“I sort of am.” He pulled back, a devious gleam in his eyes. “You’re not the first man I’ve dragged out of the closet.”
“I’m not in the closet.” He didn’t talk about his sexuality because he tried not to talk about himself at all if he could avoid it. But he wasn’t putting any actual effort into concealing it. It just wasn’t usually relevant.
“So what’s your problem, then?”
“I dunno, Edward.” He heaved a resigned sigh. “I’ve got lots of problems.”
“Yeah, clearly.” Something softened in his gaze. “I’ve got a lot of problems too,” he admitted. He relaxed his grip on Jonathan’s shoulders, smoothing his hands down his chest.
“Well, we were just in an asylum, so… Probably wouldn’t have put you there if you didn’t.” Hesitantly, he brought his hands to Edward’s hips. Decided it felt too intimate and moved them to the small of his back. “I’m not… I don’t… This kind of thing just isn’t a priority to me. So I never learned how to…” He trailed off, not sure how he wanted to finish that sentence. There were a lot of things he had never learned to do.
Edward seemed to understand, more or less. There was a sly smile on his lips, pearly white teeth peeking out. “Well, do you want to learn now?”
“Think it’ll probably take more than one fuck to get me up to speed,” he muttered.
“You have to start somewhere.” One of the hands on his chest began to travel downward, pausing just above the top of his pants. He walked two fingers along the waistband. “So,” he said, his voice heavy, “shall we start?”
“If that’s what you want.” He tried to keep his tone even, not daring to express even the slightest amount of enthusiasm.
Edward rolled his eyes. “Please, don’t act like you’re doing some kind of noble service on my behalf. You know just as well as I do that you want this.” He rolled his hips forward pointedly, grinding against the stiff outline of his cock. This drew a low groan from his lips, which Edward seemed to be particularly captivated by. His eyes were half-lidded, pale cheeks taking on a rosy tinge. “You want me.”
“Don’t have to sound so smug about it,” Jonathan grumbled.
“Yes I do.” He started to undo the buttons on Jonathan’s shirt, revealing the white undershirt beneath. “If you get to lie about it, I get to be smug when I inevitably prove it’s true.” He lowered his head, tongue finding the scar that cut a jagged line through his lips. Delivered a surprisingly sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m usually right, you know. You should start getting used to it.”
“Is that so?” He turned his head slightly to capture Edward’s mouth with his own. He was tired of talking.
Edward made an appreciative little hum, eyelids fluttering closed. Jonathan watched his face as they kissed. He knew that wasn’t what he was supposed to do, but if Edward couldn’t see him then he didn’t know what the harm was.
He felt Edward’s teeth against his lower lip, hand creeping under his shirt to press against his bare chest. The sensation of Edward’s skin against his own sent a jolt of electricity through him. He flinched away reflexively.
Edward opened his eyes, frowning down at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Just not used to being touched.”
“I’ve been touching you.”
“Not my skin.” He cleared his throat, feeling horribly awkward. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”
“Hm.” He trailed his fingertips along the pronounced bumps of Jonathan’s ribs. His other hand ghosted across his cock, using just enough pressure to leave him yearning for more. He let out a shuddering breath. “Poor thing,” Edward murmured, watching him with a keen focus. “When was the last time someone took care of you?”
Warmth bloomed in his face. He averted his gaze. “Been a long time,” he said, more than a little flustered.
“Guess I should hurry up, then.” Edward climbed off him, settling instead on his knees beside him. He started to slide Jonathan’s pants down his narrow hips, a tooth poking out to dig into his lip as if he was deep in concentration. Jonathan could feel the breeze on his skin, could feel Edward’s soft hand wrapping around him. He started slowly, peering at him closely.
This time, he did close his eyes. He couldn’t bear to watch Edward watching him, and he certainly was not prepared to watch what he was actually doing.
Edward’s hand paused at the base of his length, and then he was being enveloped by something warm and wet. Edward’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock and he made a sharp, almost pained sound, bucking up into his mouth.
He pulled away, much to Jonathan’s disappointment. “You okay?”
“Fine. Just—“ His eyes met Edward’s. He really did have such pretty eyes. “Just keep going,” he mumbled, gaze shifting back to the night sky.
Edward chuckled but, mercifully, he shut up and took Jonathan’s cock back into his mouth. He bobbed his head with a practiced ease, moaning a little as he did. Jonathan could only see that as another example of Edward trying to perform for him— he didn’t think anyone liked sucking dick that much.
His hand twisted in time with the movement of his mouth, glancing up through his lashes as Jonathan groaned hoarsely. It seemed like Edward wanted to say something, but he was committed to the task at hand. He lowered his eyes, allowing Jonathan’s length to sink further into his throat until the pointed tip of his nose was pressed against the inside of his thigh.
“Jesus Christ,” he rasped. “D-do that again.”
Edward pulled all the way back to the head before acquiescing with his request, taking his entire cock effortlessly.
“Goddamn it.” His hand flew to the back of Edward’s head, holding him in place as he let his release spill down his throat. “Fuck.” His hips jerked desperately as he rode out his orgasm, his breath catching in his chest.
He could feel Edward swallowing around him. His eyes were glistening but otherwise he showed no outward reaction as Jonathan thrust himself into his mouth. It was clear that this was a well developed skill of his, and he intended to demonstrate that.
Edward waited until he had finally stilled before drawing back, a small thread of saliva clinging to his lip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mm. That was fun.”
His head was spinning. “For you?” he managed to get out.
“I mean, I’d hope it was fun for you, too.” He sat back on his heels. “But I can only speak for myself.”
“You don’t have to pretend…” Jonathan was still struggling to catch his breath. “I didn’t even do anything to you.”
“That isn’t the only thing that’s fun for me.” He stood up, dusting dirt and leaves off his knees. “Should we get going?” he asked, acting like everything was completely ordinary.
Jonathan pulled his pants back up, open shirt hanging loosely from his thin frame as he came to a seated position. “You don’t want me to…?” He left it as a sort of open invitation.
“No,” he said simply. “I think I’d rather have you owe me.”
He raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t take issue with the idea of owing Edward something. It was just a matter of when he would come to collect. “Okay. Then let’s get going.”
