nick pierce is definitely (nottherobin) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-01-22 04:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | door: dc comics, riddler, stephanie brown |
who Eddie and Steph
what post-Laz confrontations
when after this
where one of Eddie's peeps' crib
warning Laz Pit ragey, angsty bbs.
In a city collapsing underneath death and decay, one bat squawked back from the brink, wings flapping in cutting rage and futile revenge against a man she thought loved her. All because of an unnatural green chemical. How could he say such a thing to her only to turn around and do the one thing she never wanted? How could he betray her like that? Stephanie remembered briefly Damian's reasoning for wanting to dunk Jason in the pit all those months ago -- that he loved him, that he couldn't live without him. And, Eddie implied his reasons for dosing her with the goop were similar, and that he didn't want her to fall down the rabbit hole of pain and suffering the rest of the infected were, but when this was the price? She wasn't so sure she wanted it. No, her entire body burned from her skin right down through her spinal cord and into her brain. An anger so raw and frightening that tears pricked the side of her eyes as she stared in the mirror hours later after scrubbing her pale skin until some of the blisters on her arms burst and red intermingled with green, and after trying to sleep away the metallic taste of blood and the pit and resentment on her tongue.
She swore, as she pressed fingers into her face, through her hair, on her closed eyes, that she could still feel the goop dripping down the back of her neck. That the lime color still stained her blond hair and pale, pale skin. It would never go away, that feeling of shaking fury and the sting underneath her skin, she was sure of it. The plague ripped through her body, yes, but this ire settled on her mind and nestled in like a parasite. It wasn't all just the pit, of course, but the remnants didn't help quell the ache of wanting to rip Eddie apart. It was like a whisper in the back of her mind, sharp and greedy and cloying. She wouldn't kill him, no. Just make him regret breaking her trust and assure that he knew nothing would be the same for them.
Stephanie took her time making her way to the address Eddie clued out for her, capitulating over whether she should even leave the house at all. She wasn't scared of the plague (he was right about the pit stalling her symptoms), but she did fear what the Lazarus Pit did to her other than patch up some of her diseased wounds. What if she lost herself completely? What if she could never turn this off? Whatever the case, her need to see Eddie trumped any logical idea to lock herself away when all was over. She had no idea if she was still contagious, or if the virus could come back more rampant than ever, and she took the necessary precautions as much as she could. So, she arrived at the designated location -- winded and achy but not as in as awful shape as before -- bundled up against the cold and airborne virus. Winter coat, gloves, knit hat, and a gas mask. If everything wasn't so serious, she might almost look comical in her hodgepodge hazmat outfit.
Her knock on the door sounded heavy and so very angry. Uncontrollably so. And when Eddie opened the door, he would find a Stephanie angrier than he'd ever seen. Angrier than at the Seahorse, angrier than when she turned up at his apartment in Old Gotham. Her pupils were still dilated, though the blue rimmed the edges more fully now, and her cheeks weren't burning as red as before. Physically, she didn't look well but there were the faintest signs of improvement. Signs only he would be able to read.
Eddie had managed to piss off the only two beings in Gotham that were really worth apologizing to in one quick shove of a hat and a push of a button. Death, a newfound patron saint to him the same way she’d be to a thief or outcast in the heart of some slummy barrio. And, Stephanie. His compass. His sweetheart. The one person he wouldn’t lie to. And, technically speaking he hadn’t lied at all. She called this a violation of trust and it was, but if she knew how far he could had lead her around it would make her head spin. He remembered scooping up just enough Pit to turn this plague into a simple cough for her, thinking that he could just knock her out and throw her in to rid her of it forever. But, he didn’t do that, did he? That should have counted for something.
But, he wasn’t fooling anyone. This entire plan of his was necessary, a trick that no one in her family would have the guts to do before their loved ones died terribly or at all. She’d be dying by now. Dead by next week. And, maybe that green stuff would burn inside of her like it did him the first time he took a dip, but she’d survive. She’d still be the Stephanie that he knew before the plague. Angry, righteous, pushy, terrible at riddles, hardheaded, sarcastic, lovely, funny, bright when she wanted to be and earnest in a way he didn’t fully understand himself. And, if she didn’t really care for him like he guessed she did, Stephanie wouldn’t be knocking his damn door down right now.
Dressed in another pair of his Riddler PJ’s (purple with green question marks this time) and a black t-shirt, he opened the door and looked at her with a cheesy, fake surprise. His right cheek was purplish now from Death’s suckerpunch, but he wore it like being punched was a regular occurrence for him. And, you know, it kind of was. He could see Stephanie was angry, but he couldn’t muster up enough apology in his expression to really beg for forgiveness. The Riddler did the right thing. She was getting better and soon it’d be like the Pit never happened. Though, that was counting on her to be as resilient as him. Or crazy. “Oh god, not the face.” Eddie whispered to her, then touched the bruise. “Actually, you better even it out for me.”
Steph stood there in the doorway for a moment and stared at him. Anger threatened to boil over, licking at her thoughts and made her fingers shake, but she couldn't shake those other feelings. That she cared about him immensely. That, despite it all, she loved him, too. And, it was the worst feeling, still wanting him after everything, not being able to shut off and separate herself from him, but this was life in the rodeo, wasn't it? This was how it was to tango with one of Gotham's most notorious rogues. It didn't make her okay, though, or excuse him for what he did to her. Livid didn't even touch how she felt as her dull eyes met his.
Suddenly, as if just remembering where she was, she ripped off the mask and pushed past him without a word, tossing the plastic mask to the side unceremoniously. Turning around in her spot, she rid herself of the hat, too, blond hair frizzing every which way, then her gloves. She dropped everything to the floor by her feet and looked him over, lips turned down into a deep frown. Eyes still so dark and stormy flickered with something. Maybe worry, or maybe just jealousy. "Someone got to you first," she said, crossing her arms. There was no question in her words, and her voice was devoid of concern usually bleeding through for him.
He sighed when she pushed past him, closing the door behind her with a soft swing of his arm. “Death.” Riddler was kind of proud of that, since most people didn’t get punched by the undertaker every day. “She doesn’t like it when someone uses the Pit. But, I think she really just needed a punching bag. Most people in Gotham these days do.” He quirked his brow just a little at the possible jealous in her voice, but attributed it simply to the fact that someone got the first hit in. “Next time I’ll reserve the first round for you.” Eddie put his hands in his pockets, looking at her pale complexion that wasn’t great, but leagues better than the crumbling blonde bat he saw on the rooftop hours ago. That was a strange thing about all of this, wasn’t? Less than a day ago and she was actually happy to see him. Now, she was wearing a look that was more horrifying than the time he lured her into a death trap.
And, he was trying really hard not to smirk. It showed in his expression. Eyebrows knitted, mouth curling into a preventive grimace that kept trying to worm free. Eddie had spent a week worried he’d never see so much fire in her again. So lively. And, here she was. Likely destined to be the only survivor of the plague that caught it so early. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and take her to bed until all of this blew over. No, he wanted to take her back to his apartment. Not this hideout that an old, quarantined couple let him borrow in exchange for a box of painkillers. Riddler could be charitable if he got something in return, after all.
He walked over to the couch, dropping down on the old thing with a cross of his legs and hands behind his head in a movement that looked like it had been done a thousand times before on some shrink’s couch in Arkham. “I really want to apologize.” Riddler said finally, squinting at her. His voice without the worry, anger or emotion that it should be. That someone with a guilt conscious would. Instead, it was simply affectionate as it always had been. “But, I can’t.”
It was telling that a tiny, quiet part of her wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with him, steal kisses until the memories melted away. She would give anything to go back to before the plague. When things were lovely and fun and as simple as a bat and a villain fooling around could be. But, he ruined that with a disintegrating hat and a flask full of green goo soaking over her head. She did love him, but she didn't think she could trust him ever again. "Death," she repeated after a couple of beats. "Yeah, you think she might be upset when people like, violate the natural laws or whatever. Looks like she's got a mean left hook." She bit down on her cheek hard to control the urge to ask how he was. She shouldn't care. Instead, she untangled her arms and massaged her temple with her hand.
"Stop looking like that," Steph snapped, hand stopping the soothing motion across her forehead to point at him. "Stop with the goddamn smirk. You have no right to do what you did!" The blond bat searched his face for even the smallest flicker of remorse, but she couldn't even recognize an inkling of that. It infuriates her beyond all comprehension, knowing that he felt no guilt at all for shattering her trust in him. "You bastard," she spat, disgusted with him almost as much as with herself. She still couldn't look down at herself, at the fading blisters on her arms and legs and body that would likely lead tiny scars like pushpins on a map. On her neck and shoulders, however, the buboes faded away at a more rapid rate, as if the pit erased it away all together. As she rid herself of her scarf and opened up her coat, he could see it for himself.
"Are you proud?" she asked, stepping closer to the couch, close enough for either of them to reach out to the other. "Are you happy that I literally can't trust you ever again?" A little hyperbole because she had to admit she could never keep herself away from him, but the glass tower to ther relationship shattered, the foundation cracked and pummeled until it was almost unrecognized.
He looked at her, unhurt by being called a bastard (please, that was a compliment from most Gothamites) or even her disgust with him. There was a blankness in his eyes, a defense mechanism that was more of a bad habit from years of asking for abuse. She’d have to try a lot harder to get to him, he decided, mouth turning unimpressed and distant from the fury she was trying to rain down on him. “I’m happy you’re alive.” He said plainly. But, the last part about her never being able to trust him cracked his otherwise aloof expression. No, she didn’t mean that. Maybe he did something terrible and untrustworthy, but it was to save her life, wasn’t? If he was out robbing banks or using their relationship to get secrets about the Batfamily, that would be real betrayal, wouldn’t? “I can’t stop being happy you’re alive.” Eddie’s expression suddenly hardened, concern finally bubbling out of his gaze.
Eddie bit the inside of his mouth, resisting the urge to crawl to her, though he knew eventually that’s what this would have to come to. “Can’t trust me with what? Everything?” He needed to know the damage done, even if he couldn’t make it all wash off. “Can’t trust me to do everything in my power to make sure you don’t suffer a cruel death? Can’t trust me to devote all my time, effort and resources to helping you keep this city from drowning?” His voice was louder now, eyes wide with more fear than anger. Why was she here if she was just going to tell him that she was done? No. He pulled his legs back and scooted across the cushions until he was nearly in arm’s length of her. “I respected your need to go out there and be a hero. To keep pushing yourself even when the rest of the bat family brought it in.” He slammed his fist on the arm of the couch. “But, I’ll never respect some ridiculous need to die and leave me in this city without the one thing that keeps me from doing something I’d really regret.”
As he scooted forward, she forced herself to take a step back, arms wrapping around her still frail frame. Almost like the way she rocked away to draw him away from the stairs in his apartment. Oh, no, she would not be tempted by that again. This wasn't just a simple game of tag or cat-and-mouse. No, he knew how she had felt about the pit, and he violated any sort of fears regardless. The blankness in his eyes were reflected right back in her cold black-blues, and she stared back without blinking. Challenging him like someone staring into the eyes of a rabid dog. Except she was probably the rabid dog. And the fact that he was getting upset with her rankled her to her bones. She cleared her throat, her first sign of real sickness since she'd arrived, but nothing like the hacking fits only hours before.
She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. She was getting better, that much was obvious, but she wouldn't admit to feeling better. Call it petty, or whatever have you, but Stephanie had always been a stubborn girl, even if it killed her, and she wouldn't let him win this argument so easily. Her eyes burned with hatred, and her fingernails dug into her arms as he spoke. "Oh, now you're discouraging it?" She flapped her arms, eyes narrowed and cheeks reddening again with anger. "Now you're all against it?! When you were just saying last night that I should keep carrying on if I can?" She huffed, and she turned around, and she kicked hard at a nearby chair, causing it to teeter over onto the floor. It was easier to raise her voice now than it was the night before, but it was still raw and made her sound less threatening than she was.
"Partners," she snapped, back still to him and shoulders tense. "That's what we've been about! That means you're supposed to tell me things! Especially when it's my life. I told you--you know, after what happened with Jason how I feel about the pit. It's--it's burning inside me! All this anger and fear and this toxin, it's literally bubbling underneath my skin. And what if I'm messed in the head forever! How could you want this for me?" Breathing heavily, she found it hard to catch her breath. "Maybe Death should have just knocked you out. Done me the favor." Her entire body was shaking with rage, and she clutched her chest where the pendant still hung, digging her fingers hard into her clavicle. "I can't trust you," Steph continued slowly, "to respect me. You don't--god, I hate you so much right now."
Usually Riddler didn’t listen to her rants. It wasn’t anything personal, but he usually could see the beginning and end of her I’m not a child! and I need to do what’s right! mantras like they were hymns he had heard in church a thousand times before. This was different and the way he hung on every word, every bitter sentence she could spit out proved as much. He was on his feet by the end of it, grabbing at her arm. “Stephanie.” He murmured past her anger, that burning way she said hate even though he thought for sure it must have been her way of screaming something opposite. “I hate people. I thought- I really thought I hated people.” Riddler had a way of changing the subject to make a point right back to where he started. His eyes a little pleading to allow him to doubleback to what he was trying to say. “But, I wanted to help find a cure for you. I’m out there talking to more people and having more conversations than I’ve had in decades trying to find information and clear the streets before this thing spreads and you run yourself into the ground. I spent a long time talking to Frank and his wife. Like I’m not some kind of freak in a green suit. I read those kids stories about dinosaurs.” The hand reaching for her stopped mid air, hoovered and then dropped to his side. “They’re going to die and I don’t- I don’t want that to happen.”
Now, there was a big difference between wanting someone to die and not caring, but Eddie wasn’t about to admit he was that far along. He wanted that standoffish pity back. That disdain for anyone who couldn’t solve his puzzles. Eddie would never go to the extremes the bats did, but damn it all if he wasn’t trying his hardest to keep his hench’s family safe. “So, no. I’m not against it. I probably would have kept trying to help even if-” He threw his hands up and shrugged. “But, none of that would have happened without you. I need you alive and this was the only way I could spare you. The only way. And, you can bet what I did to you is a million times better than being thrown in the Pit after dying. If you do that you lose part of who you are to the stuff. At least this way it just stirs things up.”
That hate did mean something more. How could she know that she hated him so much if she didn't know the opposite? The overwhelming want and need and caring for a man once upon a time consumed only by riddles and puzzles. She wished she didn't hate him so much because that meant she cares, and standing there in one of his random connection's living room, she wanted nothing more than to be indifferent. She sighed sharply, stepping away from him again when she heard him approach, and she felt air as he snatched for her arm. All she did was listen for a while, whole body stiff, but she did crack a tiny smile at the idea of him reading stories to his henchman's kid. The big, bad Riddler a children's storyteller.
She turned around then, pursing her lips to hide away that brief smile until it faded away. Her arms wrapped around herself in a defensive move. He knew exactly how to get under her skin. He'd always known, even when they were playing archnemises, and he was twisting his way underneath right now. She shivered a little at the thought and the feeling of him tapping at her insides. "Don't. Don't say that." That he needed her. It wasn't fair. The anger cooled, but it still bubbled behind her stormy blues, narrowed and searching his face for a sign of earnesty. "How do you know I won't lose myself now? I probably already have!" She felt herself drowning in a fiery anger that she couldn't extinguish as hard as she tried.
A look of confusion crossed his face when she turned, wondering if he could have said too much or maybe she didn’t believe him at all. Wasn’t change what she wanted? There was no real connection between them before the Halloween because he hadn’t a clue that his own riddles had trapped him in an endless loop. A loop that could have kept him forever if it hadn’t been all his mechanisms breaking apart and her to catch him before he tried to put them back exactly how they were before. Riddler didn’t know how to be an empathetic man who cared about diseased babies from Africa on the television and he snickered when someone tripped on their own feet, but he was getting better.
“You haven’t.” He said with the clarity of all the numbers in his head. “Because you’re here.” This time he unapologetically grabbed her crossed arms with his hands, fingers resting on her pointy elbows to pull her closer. “You’re going to be pissed at me for a while, maybe forever, but you’re here.” Eddie waited for her to look up at him, voice dropping to a soft whisper. “Some part of you understands why I did what I did. Listen to it for a second, god damn it.”
Stephanie knew he was changing, wanted him to change more than anything, but sometimes it seemed like he retreated back twenty steps. Like when he dumped that sample of the Lazarus Pit on her. It harked back to his times strolling in the green question-marked suit like he was king of all of Gotham, and that scared the shit out of her. If he could do this to save her, what would he do if she ever actually hurt him? How far would he go to enact revenge on the city or the girl that wronged him?
With that featherlight touch and those big, dark eyes, he caught her in his little spiderweb trap of affection. She looked at his fingers for a few beats, then up to his puppy dog eyes, and her eyes darted between the bridge of his nose and his lips. "Don't," she whispered dead quiet as she felt her resolve crumble. All she wanted to do was crush a kiss and press herself against him. To lose herself in him. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something or do just what she was thinking, but in the next second, she shook his grasp off and cocked her fist back. Anger bubbled and boiled over to possess her mercilessly. In a moment lost in fury, she felt her fist connect to his nose with a hard crack. Suddenly, she was blinking, standing there staring at him with dumbfounded confusion. What the hell just happened?
"Shit, shit," she stuttered out, reaching forward to see the damage, but she didn't apologize. If he didn't think he needed to, then she didn't either.
She was right to be worried about what he’d be capable of if she broke his heart, but he wanted that part of him to fade before she got the chance. Eddie didn’t expect her to stay with him forever because there was no such thing in Gotham, but if he could be fixed into something that he didn’t despise by the time she left that would be ideal. He wasn’t there yet, he couldn’t even see himself without a couple question marks around him at all time, so how could she just leave him now?
But, that fear was gone once she looked up at him and he could see some kind of way to fix this. Just for a split second, he connected the dots into a perfect line towards them getting back to how it was before this plague. But, then she cocked her fist back and his eyes went wide with surprise and the next thing he knew he was stumbling away from her holding his dripping, bloody face. “Ah, ahhh-” He breathed, wobbling towards the kitchen to the sink to spit out the pools of blood in his mouth and nose. His vision blurred with pain and surprise. All Eddie could think about was how he should have been able to duck with such a windup. He could defeat a Talon in the dark of Wonder City, but he couldn’t dodge some blonde bat’s facepunch? Was this what he was in store for until she figured out how to forgive him?
“Deserved that.” He whispered through his teeth, fingers delicately running down the bridge of his nose that was pushed off to the side. An annoying man like Eddie had gotten very used to his nose being broken, so with a quick inhale, he crunched it back into place with a snap of his palm, but it didn’t go far enough. Eddie let out a small whine of frustration, kicking the cabinet as he gasped through the pain.
She didn't think of the inevitability of their relationship ever actually ending. Even then, as blind fury pumped through her veins, she knew she couldn't leave him. She would feel betrayed and pissed off for a long time, maybe forever, but god was she still enamored with him. He was right, a small part of her understood why he did soaked her with the pit goo, and she absolutely hated herself for it. Not as much as she hated him, though. She tasted the ire on her tongue, electric and bitter and not unlike how she felt when he pressed her against that wall. After all, there was a thin line between love and hate, and though she hated him right now, it was still the same passion she felt before.
Still, she felt a twang of guilt as he backed away, blood gushing out of his now broken nose, and she followed him into the kitchen as she gave him the space he needed. Now, make no mistake, the crunch filled her with great satisfaction, and the irony was not lost on her one bit. "Yeah, you do deserve it. You deserve a lot worse," she snapped, crossing to where he stood by the sink. She grabbed a cloth and ran warm water over it. "C'mere." She swatted away his hand and ran delicate fingers over the bridge of his nose. But there was nothing loving about the touch, that much was clear when she didn't warn him before completely shifting the bone back to the right place. The anger in her eyes subsided slightly, something soft taking its place as she pressed the warm cloth to his nose.
He blinked through the pain, almost about to swat her away when she approached, but opted to let her set his nose. It occurred to him that when he broke her nose with his cane it was more stylish than a punch to the face, but these sorts of things needed to go unsaid. Through the pain and under the warm cloth against his face, Eddie smirked down at her. Just happy she was here at the sink instead of storming out the door. But, he didn’t say anything and a quiet hit the apartment that the old couple who owned it would never see again. This felt like an apocalypse, a zombie movie where he was supposed to try really hard not to get attached to anyone but failed miserably. And, if she’d never forgive him, then that’s what he deserved more than all the physical pain she could put him through.
Eddie watched the stormy look in her eyes clear a little bit and knew that even if she hated him, he could get her to follow his riddles anywhere. It wasn’t as good as what they had before the plague, nothing would touch the innocence of that, but it was something. He gestured towards his nose and then laughed a little, followed by a tiny groan of pain. “Thanks.” He said quietly, brushing his fingers across hers before taking the damp cloth for himself.
The quiet that settled over them transported her momentarily back to the tentative beginnings of their tangled relationship. That first night in his lair with Oregon Trail and heart-to-hearts and handholding, a night of such strange normalcy and innocence for the bat and the question-marked man that it bordered on ludicrous. Standing there in that dusty kitchen, she couldn't help but get lost in his eyes and that fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to recapture it, and without thought she leaned her frame a little closer to him.
His fingers brushing against hers felt electric, sparks shooting from his skin to hers, and oh, did a big part of her want to just have her way with him right then and there. Crush her lips against his, run her fingers through his hair, feel him rock into her. It showed in her eyes clear as day. But, he'd ruined that, and after a second of temptation, she pushed herself away from him a little roughly. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Your whining is torture, and I don't deserve that kind of pain on top of this." She turned her back to him and stood there trying to decide to stay or leave then.
“What? Most people love my whining.” He tried a grin, but it slipped. Instead he nervously watched her consider a move to leave, cloth still pressed up against his face as he tilted his head back a little and closed his eyes. It still hurt like hell, but Eddie had figured out how to think through the pain when he was just a kid. There wasn’t a time when his cheating, twisted mind didn’t get him beat up and eventually it became a telltale sign that he was doing something right. But, this time it felt different. Eddie had actually thought she’d never feel the urge to kick his ass for a long time. Apparently, there were patterns he couldn’t see.
He stepped closer to her when she turned her back to him, testing the tips of his fingers across the arm of her coat before lightly pressing his body against her back. Eddie dipped his head down, other hand still cradling his nose and ran his arm just under her neck like he was weakly taking her hostage. It was all so seamless, light and quick like the thief he was always reminding her that he was. “Stay. Just a little longer. You can list off all the reasons why you hate me and I’ll only barely protest.”
She let out a long, crackling sigh as he slunk up against her, and she absolutely loathed how well his body fit with hers even when she didn't want it to. The weight against her back felt like home, like something clicked right into place. "Nooo," she whined, but her actions said something else. Her arms slipped behind her to wrap halfway around his waist, and she turned her face to nuzzle her nose into his neck. She whined again, a pathetic protest of a sound. "No, I can't stay. I can't. Stop that." Whether she was saying it to him or herself, it wasn't completely clear. Still, her eyes closed as she breathed in his scent.
"I hate you," she murmured suddenly against his throat, as if she just remembered, and after a few beats, she shook her head and detangled herself from him with delicacy. More than he deserved. "No," she chided herself with a violent shake of her head as she stooped down to collect her things. "I can't. You'll make me forgive you. You haven't earned it yet. Maybe you never will." She was still rustling around the apartment, picking up strewn gloves and other things. He could still stride over, tackle her against a wall, and she wouldn't protest at all.
“I can earn it.” Eddie said with the determination of someone who was stupid enough to keep challenging the world’s greatest detective to trivial games of pursuit. He hadn’t thought all this through and only knew for certain that she needed to be saved like everything else would eventually fall back in place without much effort. For someone who could plan out capers that spanned over an entire city, he didn’t have the foresight to see how much work he’d have to do to get what he wanted. The Riddler only wanted attention and confirmation of his genius, but Eddie had always wanted more than that, didn’t he? So, how was he supposed to figure out how to win that game?
He chased after her without thought, grabbing one of the gloves from her hands and tugging it from her grip, but easily losing with one hand still against his nose. Eddie made a soft noise of frustration, a dorky grumble like he plugged in the wrong cables and opted to just reach to hold the side of her face. “Tell me what I need to do. Give me a hint. Anything.” His dark eyes went wide with frustration as the fear of losing her suddenly became very real. Why couldn’t she just never talk to him again after that meeting on the rooftop and make a clean getaway? No. She had to tease him with something they had, something good.
Stephanie wished that she could simply sever ties and never speak to him again after the previous night. Believe it, she wanted to be able to make a clean break. It wasn't that easy though; they both knew that. Not when they were so tangled up in each other, not when they were both involved in all the affairs. Not when they both toed the fence of the gray. He still wormed his way around her heart and into her brain and under her skin. His whine tugged at her heart, and when he cupped her cheek, her eyes went soft. Leaning into the touch, her eyes fell shut, and she let out a long, slow sigh. "I don't know," she whispered sadly. "I don't know if there's anything. And I wish I could just stay away, but--." She looked uncomfortable, face scrunching up, and without opening her eyes, she pressed her lips roughly against his. No affection or softness, just anger and gnashing teeth, like the pit was seeping through the kiss, too.
He knew why she was there, why she lingered. It was the same reason why she whispered how much she hated him against his throat. And, while he was grateful he had wedged himself so neatly under her skin, her rough kiss left a bad taste on his lips. Eddie never wanted that kind of aggression from her, it was too close to the kind of punishment he received for his riddles. It encouraged him to keep testing her and going outside of the lines of trust until this whole thing broke. Riddler was a man very aware of his boundaries and how close he was to the edge. He had to be if he expected to actually get better. Eddie kissed her back at first, a desperate push of his lips against hers before he stumbled back.
“Not like that. Go home.” He blinked, eyes searching the floor for a more eloquent way to tell her what he did want, but most of his mind was already spent for the day. There was no question how much he wanted to just give in and let her Lazarus Pit rage channel into her affection for him, but they’d regret it later. He had to believe they’d regret it someday. Eddie rubbed the side of his face in thought and then turned away from her, retreating back to the bedroom without her.
The kiss shot adrenaline to her brain, fueling the raging fire licking at her stomach, and the groan against his lips almost sounded like a growl. An animalistic greed swooped over her when he returned the pressure. The Lazarus Pit twisted her mind, drumming up blind fury and a reckless sort of brutishness akin to the Halloween party. Fiery, unyielding, and desperate. So, when he stepped away, it felt like something being ripped away from her, and she stared at him startled. "What?" she asked, eyebrows knitting together. Why was he pushing her away when all he wanted was this?
But, she didn't follow him into back bedroom, watching his retreating form with raised eyebrows, and she screamed on frustration. Fine, he wanted to play that game? She could do that. It helped nothing to kill her anger, only made it worse, and she tossed a nearby lamp with a crash into the wall near the bedroom door. Another sharp sound of anger echoed in the living room before she turned towards the front door.