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eddie likes to (riddlethem) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-03-28 21:20:00

Who: Eddie and Steph [Part One of Two]
Where: Wonder Tower
When: Backdated to last weekend on Steph's birthday
What: Post family dinner drama
Warnings: Pretty tame.



The elevator ride up to the top of Wonder Tower was another testament to Eddie’s engineering abilities. It was the most functional thing to come out of the otherwise trashed and forgotten underground city, rising above the rubble in a faithful, loving restoration. He replaced glass, changed the gears with ones he stole from factories and shipments on the docks and even added a little elevator music in the form of a smooth jazz version of “Digital Love”. The whole project, including the restoration of the top of the tower itself, had taken him about a year and he could honestly claim this was something he did for himself without any initial intention of showing it to anyone. If this was a couple months ago, bringing her up here would be an excuse to brag about himself, but they were faaar past that. Eddie could build her a bridge to the goddamned moon and it wouldn’t matter if he was still robbing banks and playing gangster. Still, he was proud of the thing and it showed by just how quiet he was on the ride up. His head tilted a little as he read over a diagnosis tablet that told him how the thing was working and he glanced over to Stephanie with a smile. “If you look over there, you can see the top of your apartment building.” Eddie pointed across the Gotham skyline. “I know where most buildings are in the city, so it’s not creepy.” He assured her, tone geeky and dry before he returned his attention back to the tablet.

The night had been a disaster and they both knew it, but he hoped a little alone time in his tower would fix some of that. The long ride up to the top with Gotham spanning out in darkness and dimmed streetlights below them calmed him down, but he couldn’t even begin to speculate where she was at. Eddie was feeling lucky that she even wanted to continue spending time with him after her father walked out on dinner and imagined an alternate outcome where he stayed up in Wonder Tower alone with his scotch until it ran out and he couldn’t hire people to helicopter drop more on his balcony. So, maybe tonight was a testament to something? A testament to how she didn’t let failure of all parties involved get between them? He could live with that and he was going to try to make it better because keeping Stephanie happy was a puzzle he never got tired of.

The farther they got away from Gotham, the clearer the stars shined past the low hanging smog and Eddie glanced up to exhale softly. He used to be afraid of heights, afraid of a lot of things actually, but going toe-to-toe with the Dark Knight cured him of that. Eventually, the elevator rolled to a slow stop and an old fashioned ding ding sounded like some silver screen Hollywood hotel. Riddler gestured for her to look around what was a circular, dimly lit observation room. “I have to keep the lights down so people don’t come snooping.” He explained, though there was a lot of leeway afforded to a forgotten part of Gotham. Besides, Wonder Tower was supposed to be haunted, right? And, it kind of looked that way. Eddie had decorated the place to look like a relic of his retro past with couches, tables, chairs, a cocktail bar, an old fashioned tv and even a small record player that seemed lifted right out of an early James Bond movie or Mad Men. There were a couple sever towers, a corner for his desk and computer, but nothing else was afforded a modern touch. Oh, well besides the Riddler trophy hanging outside on the balcony.

He gave her a look like don’t make fun and set his tablet on the coffee table so he could fiddle with his bowtie as he wandered over to his computer to check for alerts, Wonder City activity and anything else that he missed since the last time he was up here.

After agreeing to this trip to Wonder Tower, Steph had fallen silent yet again, the clutch of her fingers in Eddie’s the only indication that she was even there. Physically, at least. Mentally, she was as far as could be, and it was always telling when Stephanie Brown tripped into quietness. Eerie, almost, and so very much not like the little blonde bat. Cassandra Cain was the mute, the ‘scary mute’ as Eddie liked to call her, and Steph was the blabbering bat. Except when she was overwhelmingly upset. And, leave it to Arthur Brown to do just that, to shove his daughter into a tongue-tied pain that stuttered her brain until she couldn’t think of anything else but the all-consuming hurt and rage that boiled under her skin. The only thing grounding her and keeping her from finding every goon her father hired to kick their teeth in was Eddie’s hand fitting perfectly in hers. And, perhaps, the intrigue of seeing a part of Gotham she hadn’t before. Wonder City was an unexplored nook of the dirty, dark city, and she was very curious to see what Eddie had been up to there when he snuck away to the vestiges of the old underground.

In the elevator, she slipped away from her riddled man and pressed her nose to the glass panels to watch the Gotham skyline whirl by. Good thing she wasn’t afraid of heights, and even better that she was used to throwing herself off rooftops with nothing but a cable to keep her from plummeting to her death. The rickety structure and questionable elevator didn’t scare her one bit. What did scare her? How her father could still burrow underneath her skin to twist and turn her however he pleased. No, he didn’t get her by his side, but Arthur got the next best thing: Stephanie rolling through emotion after emotion until she couldn’t think about anything but him. Not even Eddie’s attempts to break through her fog worked, though she did turn over her shoulder to look at him when he pointed out her apartment building with a small smile and a vague quirked eyebrow. No words, just a distant, amused look, and a sickness in her stomach caused by her father. Her blue eyes searched Eddie’s face for a brief moment before she turned away again to lose herself in the flicker of lights below.

The elevator dinged, and she followed him inside to that observation deck. Her smile was a little warmer as she glanced around the area, enamored by the old-school feel of it all. Circling around the chairs, she dragged her fingers across the backs as she observed all the little eccentricities Eddie filled the room with. “You’re just using that as an excuse to keep mood lighting,” she said, first words uttered in what seemed like ages, and there was a hollow kind of teasing in her voice. She glanced over at him as he busied himself with his computer alerts, but didn’t move any closer. Instead, she stepped forward to the window and drummed fingers against the glass. “How long have you been working on all this?” she asked as she turned over her shoulder to look at him again, a curious glint in her eyes that was quickly clouded over by a hurt bubbling in the back of her brain. Before he could respond, she strolled over to that record player to investigate.

He gave a dry laugh that barely filled the space they were in, followed by a frustrated noise as he tugged on his bowtie. This was what he got for refusing clipons, even when he was handicapped. Eddie bent over his computer that flashed with a black screen and green text like the thing was made in the 1980’s. Obviously it was more high tech than that, but Eddie liked style a little more than substance and functionality. He typed away, clunky keyboard making loud click click click noises that varied from rapid speed to slow and methodical as if it were mapping his brain patterns. “About a year.” He said finally, not bothering to look up. “Since I got out of Arkham.” Eddie had a lot of compulsions back then, but repairing something only he remembered was at the top of his priorities. And, even after he started to unravel his own riddles, he still came back here to build, fix and restore.

“From what I remember in my video game past, Hugo Strange took over this part of Gotham to build a massive Arkham for people like me. And, this was his command center. I had been up here for riddling purposes, but I didn’t get to spend as much time as I wanted to.” Eddie finally got his tie off, letting it hang around his collar, pinned down by the sling and walked over to the cocktail bar. He gave a flat Dick Van Dyke smile and turned on a green lamp next to the booze as if to say Of course it’d be green. “Anyway. I hate Hugo. He figured out who the Dark Knight is before I did and without the help of the Lazarus Pit. So, I decided to take the tower before he could get to it. And, now it’s just a place for me to think.” Eddie prattled on like she had just tore off some tape from his mouth and busied himself with the drinks and mini fridge.

“Put some music on and come over here.” He said, crouched down under the bar as his hand popped up to place glasses, bottles and mixers. The record player was an antique from 1963, a large wooden thing that looked like it had been carefully restored along with the rest of the tower. Next to it was a leather box full of albums that ranged from Frank Sinatra to Beach Boys. Unapologetically old school.

It seemed like eons ago when Eddie had been locked away in Arkham and broken out with Crane’s help. Had it really been only a year? Then again, in a matter of months, their relationship had morphed from enemies ready to kill each other to friends, then lovers, then even something more than that. In Gotham, things moved quickly, changed rapidly, but no one really noticed until you took a step back and looked at the calendar to realize it’d only been mere months where all this insane shit happened. Riddle houses, Halloween parties, Christmas Eve, the plague, Las Vegas. Her father’s return. It’d been a little over half a year, and Steph couldn’t quite wrap her brain around that expanse of time. She offered him a throaty, impressed sound regardless, knowing that he’d put a hell of a lot of work into all of this. “It’s definitely a good place to escape to think, Eddie,” she said softly, voice barely carrying across the room as she drummed her fingers against the leather case filled with records. Stooping down, she began to comb through the stack of sleeves filled with records from a time before Steph was born. Old school stuff, and she didn’t expect anything less from him.

After a few more quiet moments, she chose some Ella Fitzgerald, one of the few jazz musicians she knew and actually liked. An ear-aching scratch or two later, and the soft melody of “Summertime” billowed through the room. Steph stood by the record player for a couple more beats and simply stared at the needle scratching through the grooves and the record spinning round and round. Finally, she looked over at the cocktail bar and saw Eddie’s hands flying to place drinks on the smooth surface and rolled her eyes slightly. She didn’t want to make it a habit of using booze to take the edge off her problems, but this one time, it might be okay. So, she sauntered over to the bar and leaned her forearms against the wood and waited for him to acknowledge that she was there. It hurt a little not to talk, but she had no urge to do anything but somehow burrow away from her feelings. Talking would just drum it all up.

His dark, messy hair popped up from behind the bar and then just his eyes squinting up at her, judging something that she couldn’t tell just from his expression before he picked one more instrument for mixology and finally swayed back to his feet. He didn’t like the quiet, wasn’t used to them burying anything, but this didn’t just involve them. And, all the talking and fighting wouldn’t solve anything with her dad. So, he stayed quiet, too, mouth bunched up to the side of his face in thought as he looked her over like a suspicious bartender in some dimly lit club. He was impressed she managed to eventually work the record player, but didn’t make some sharp comment about it. He also wanted to point out how difficult it was to make a cocktail with one hand, but didn’t do that either. Instead he quietly placed ice cubes one at time into a martini mixer, then a combination of orange juice, vodka and some green looking liqueur before shaking it with his good hand carefully and with a forced straight man look.

See? He could be quiet. As long as he had something to do with his hands. After a couple seconds, he poured the melony mixture into two martini glasses, pushed one towards her and then snapped his fingers like he forgot something. “We’re missing something.” Eddie mumbled to himself, walking back over to the mini fridge and pulled out a small, round cake in purple (not even a hint of green) that was just a little too big for two people to eat. It was something he had made for her down at the pastry shop owned by that nice Chinese woman who needed help doing her taxes. A favor for a favor. “I’ll spare you my singing.” He set the cake down and pulled out a candle, put it in the middle and lit it.

Then he paused and suddenly panicked like he accidentally gave her a fish instead of a cake, pulling the candle out and extinguishing it with his fingers. “Trick candle. In theory it was a good idea, but in practice it never works out.” Eddie explained, tossing the dead thing behind him and gave her a real candle that glowed naturally. “There. Now you can make an actual wish.” He stretched his small body out so he could lean his elbow on the bar and rest his chin on top of his knuckles to look up at her. Dark eyes searching for something that wasn’t still stuck in Sal’s, but unsure if that was possible even waaaaay up here in Wonder Tower. Still. “Happy birthday. I love you.” He told her simply, like that would be enough to keep this whole night from collapsing.

Steph watched him with those bloodshot blue eyes as she leaned against the bar and almost told him to stop exacerbating his injuries. Because she was sure bustling around and mixing cocktails wasn’t on the list of ways to recover from getting the everliving crap out of you. But, that would require talking and chiding him, and after the scene that unfolded in the restaurant only hours beforehand, she didn’t want to disconnect herself from another person in her life. She shouldn’t have been surprised, not really, not when she was already losing so many people already over the course of this year in this new Gotham. Sure, she had found things she never would, but this hotel and this Gotham had a tendency to hit her when she was already down. First, Cassandra didn’t have a damn clue who she was, then her father abandoned her right on the spot. And, that didn’t even take into account the problems that arose before.

He earned the ghost of a smile when he pulled out that cake, an appreciative turn of her lips, and she fought the urge to stick her finger in the frosting right then and there. Purple icing. He was adorable when he wanted to be. Her lips twitched again when he snatched off the initial candle in favor of another, real candle. “I always did hate when Mom got those. She thought they were hilarious.” She rested her chin in her open palm and closed her eyes with a thoughtful hum. There were tons of different wishes on the tip of her tongue, each a little more selfish than the last, but in the end, when she opened her eyes and blew out the candle, she wished for she and Eddie to get out of all of this okay. That despite all of the obstacles, they would still have each other at the end of the day.

“I love you, too,” she said over the billowing smoke left over from the candle. She leaned forward, but didn’t stretch to steal a kiss. Instead, she dug her finger into that icing and licked it off with little finesse before grabbing her martini glass.

Eddie watched her blow out the candle quietly and tried to note all the details for later reference. The way she seemed reluctant to smile, but couldn’t help it in the face of his doting antics. Her pause as she considered a wish and the way it made the back of his ears tingle a little bit in wonder. Then, how the candle lit up her nose and stormy eyes before she blew the thing out. How the smoke and sugar smelled when it mixed together. He smiled brightly at her when she went for the frosting and then held out a fork with mock sternness as if Wonder Tower had rules of etiquette, slamming it down like a utensil delivering robot. “If the martini is bad, it’s not my fault. I don’t mix with one hand normally and I’m more of a straight scotch kind of man.” He said aloofly, pulling a stool up so he could sit across from her and dig into the cake.

“They didn’t have trick candles when I was a kid, but I guarantee you I would have either loved them or freaked out.” Eddie said thoughtfully, mouthful of cake before he washed it down with the martini. Which was not bad. “I only have one good birthday memory. Before my mom died. I was- oh I don’t know. I was young and my parents were dirt poor. This was before tv or movies in color or anything like that. Buying cake for some hyperactive kid when you barely had enough for dinner was a mistake. But, my mom took me out for ice cream and bought me a Houdini book. No nonexistant friends. No dad. Just ice cream and Houdini. And, my mom.” He bopped the cake fork against his lips thoughtfully. He had spent a lot of his adult life thinking big moments were the important ones, but Eddie had more fondness for the small ones. The glimpses of happiness and normality.

She flashed him a mischievous grin as she slid her finger out of her mouth, the first genuine expression she’d had most of the night, definitely since after her father stormed out of Sal’s. She could have done that all night, dipping her fingers into the cake and licking it off as seductively as she could. (Which, for Steph, pretty much failed, but she could at least look adorable doing it.) With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she “decided” to play along with the etiquette of Wonder Tower and reached for the fork. Before she dug in, however, she took a sip from her glass, licking the melon-infused drink off her lips. “You’re safe,” she said, offering him a quick smile. “I don’t do enough drinking to know the difference. It’s alright,” she continued, smirk crawling up her lips before falling away again. “It’ll do.”

She listened to the story about his mother with the same sort of quiet that purveyed the room earlier, but a soft, affectionate smile snuck up the side of her mouth and settled there like it belong. Another sip from the martini, and she rested the side of her head on her knuckles as she forked off a little of the cake. She took the bite of pastry, chewed it up, and swallowed quickly, and her eyes closed for a second. So good. When she opened her eyes again, she placed the fork down and reached a hand across the bar to grasp for his uninjured hand. “You loved her a lot.” Way to state the obvious, Steph. “Didn’t you? Your mom, you loved her a lot.” She squeezed his fingers then. “I’m glad you have those memories among all the bad ones. We all need good ones.”

He gave a startled noise when she reached for his hand and even shook his head a little. “I-” Eddie was comfortable giving affection to her, he was even comfortable being friendly to the likes of Muerte and the Cat, but to admit he cared about his mom who died when he was so young and left him like this? “I didn’t start having memories of her until I found the subway station above Wonder City.” He blurted nervously instead of confirming what they both already knew. Eddie didn’t specify when because it was the night he and Selina went to open the Lazarus Pit door for the first time, but that detail wasn’t necessary. The implication was still there, though. He must have blocked her out, blocked her out for a long time because it got in the way of the person he was compelled to be.

Eddie’s stiffness eased a little though when she squeezed his fingers and he sighed with a shrug. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He admitted with a little nerdy rise and fall of his chest before busying himself with a particularly frosted part of the cake. Eddie nearly mentioned how he had almost bought his dead mother a hat to put where her grave should be out in the cemetery or how he had a hard time remembering her face, too. But, those were more details best left to himself. At least for now. He felt a little sorry for being this stitched mess of Eddies, Riddlers and Edwards. For being someone that belonged in four or five different decades all at once. But, those were some of his more harmless character flaws.

“I used to think I was just like Houdini.” Eddie smiled, leaving the cake on the fork and staring at it. “But, Houdini cheated because he wanted to show everyone the power of a convincing con. Me? I did it cause it was easier.” He gave the cake a look like he didn’t know if he deserved it or not. “I just wanted to take shortcuts because I didn’t want the work involved with doing it honestly. So, I don’t know if I’m allowed to have good memories of my mom. I put so much distance between myself and all the bad memories now, that I don’t get to have the good ones, too.”

She felt that tenseness, and she wondered if she’d built up a big wall between the two of them with her silent treatment and intense reaction to her father’s stunt at dinner. Steph almost snatched away her hand, but he loosened, and she sighed in relief. She couldn’t deal with ruining anything with Eddie after she had royally fucked up things with Arthur at dinner. And, it never really bothered Stephanie that he was a jumble of different men, though she suspected that times like this, it bothered him. As he eyed that cake, she propped her chin on her hand to simply watch him as he continued to speak. “No,” she said with a violent shake of her head, and her eyes squeezed shut. “You’re allowed to have good memories. Yeah, sure, they do come with the bad, but not all the time. Not necessarily.” Picking up her glass, she took another big gulp, the buzz shooting straight to her brain. “You’re allowed to hold onto the good memories of your mom when they come up.”

He gave her a look like he didn’t completely believe her, like she was being kind for his sake, but it vanished on a second thought that Stephanie didn’t really do any of that. There was no undercurrent, or there wasn’t until her dad showed up. “Yeah, but,” Eddie took a bite of his cake and chewed thoughtfully, eyes up towards the dark ceiling before he took a similar gulp of his drink until it was gone. “You saw me today. Let’s recap. Someone throws one measly bad memory my way and I can’t handle it. I had to mentally block myself off.” Eddie was quick to panic attacks, but as a bonafide Gotham resident, he had to get back on his feet fast. He didn’t think what Arthur said to him made him feel guilt, no, it was closer to doubt which incidentally chipped away at the hope Stephanie had instilled in Eddie since they started being more friends than enemies.

“I don’t know how to answer for the bad things I’ve done. I can’t apologize sincerely because I don’t feel guilt over what I did while my mind wasn’t in order. And, I can’t convince everyone that I’m trying to be done with all of that.” Eddie frowned, but he sounded better than he had all night. This had been weighing on him for a while and to hell with it there wasn’t a better time to talk it over than now. “I failed you. I was supposed to be your backup, not another liability.” He sighed and started making another round. “See. That I feel like I can apologize for.”

Steph shook her head again, frowning at that flicker of disbelief that crossed his face and a little hurt at the implication of his expression. Had she ever lied to him or softened the blow? That was never really Stephanie Brown’s thing, especially when it came to Eddie. They were always about honesty, at least they tried. Or, at least, she tried. She never saw a need to lie to him because it never made anything better between the two of them, especially when they already had so much working against them. Secrets and lies ruled Gotham, but they didn’t have to rule her relationship with him. She scoffed, bit her bottom lip, and took another fingerful scoop of icing. “No,” she said with a shake of her head as she licked off more of the sweet frosting. “No, no.” Okay, so maybe he was prone to panic attacks and dramatic breakdowns, but Arthur was clearly egging him on. “Okay, yeah. But we all get suckered into bad stuff like that. You just have to work on it. It takes practice. Believe me, I know a little about that, too.”

Steph picked up her glass, tilted her neck back, and drained the rest of her glass as well as she made a noncommittal noise. “Practice,” she said again, but she didn’t expect him to apologize about things in the past. But. She couldn’t look at him right in the eye then, so she pursed her lips and picked at the cake with her fork to give herself something to do. Yeah, maybe she was angry about the whole thing, and there was that little flicker of resentment bubbling under the surface. “Thanks,” she said quietly, shredding the pastry to pieces with the fork without looking up at Eddie. “You didn’t fail--it’s not like things could have gone differently. I don’t know why I thought they would.”

Eddie didn’t like this. He could take the Lazarus Pit anger. He could take all of her yelling and accusing until she got sick and tired of screaming at him. But, her quietly murdering the cake and avoiding any and all eye contact meant something was so bad even a good screaming match couldn’t solve it. This was why, even with his riddles in order, he didn’t like apologizing. He had been doing it a lot lately because after Vegas he really felt like he could, but twice now tonight he felt like she was taking it for granted. And, if she looked up, Stephanie could see his expression turn serious and a little angry without him even realizing it.

He poured her a second drink but left his share in the shaker. “It takes more than one family dinner to help someone.” Eddie said after a moment and then tossed his fork on the bar and walked away from her towards the end of the room to look out one of the huge glass windows. Memories of the fake Wayne manor came back, but he reminded himself that when he looked out the window there, he didn’t see anything but darkness. Here in Wonder Tower, Gotham lit up below him in a wave of blinking color.

Steph finally glanced up for a second, caught the tail-end of that angry seriousness, and she frowned deeply, too. She did appreciate his apology more than he apparently realized, and she knew full-well how hard all of it was to recognize his faults or missteps. To realize what he had done was wrong. But, as much as he wanted her to scream and cry, as normal as all of that would be for them, she didn’t have the energy for anything like that. No, she wanted to continue to murder that chunk of cake with her fork and drain more of that martini and then curl into one of those chairs until she fell asleep and could forget about this entire night.

She took up the glass again with a quick smile, then trailed his movements with her eyes. Still quiet. She dug her fork into the messy pile of cake she created, popped a little bit in her mouth, and dropped her fork on the bar as well to run a shaky hand through her curly blonde hair. God, she wished she could just shut herself off from all of this. He said he could do that, right? Why couldn’t she? Why couldn’t she be like the Gothamites who could compartmentalize and shuffle around pieces of themselves until they were settled? Taking a long, generous sip, she felt the buzz shiver through her spine to her brain. “I know, but at least there should be something.” She heaved a shaky, jagged sigh and pushed herself off the bar. Glass in her hand already only half-full, she sauntered over to join him by the large windows, kicking off her shoes as she went. She stood next to him, close enough to reach but not actually touching him, and she started down at Gotham as well. “It looks different from up here. Calmer.”

Yeah, Eddie could shuffle himself around and disconnect himself from Gotham with a flash of his glasses and a couple lines of code, but it wasn’t a gift. It was a necessity. If he let himself react to everything like before, they’d try to medicate him or throw him back in Arkham. Stephanie could trust her emotions, for the most part, and he envied that sometimes. But, it was like Muerte said, being functional was all anyone could ask from him. The rest would take more time. He looked over at her while she gazed out towards Gotham and rolled his ring around his finger a couple times in thought with his thumb. “You can barely hear sirens from this far up.” He murmured in agreement. He wondered if that was why Batman stayed in the mansion even if his heart was in Gotham. From Wayne Manor he could barely even see the lights and for a second he could pretend things were different, right?

“Listen.” Eddie turned his attention back out towards Gotham. “We can go watch one of my old movies on the tv and fall asleep up here like nothing went horribly wrong tonight. We can sit in the dark and quiet doing crosswords. I don’t give a damn. But, you have to promise me you’re not going to do anything without talking to me about it first.”

“Yeah, it’s a good quiet.” Steph made a noise of agreement, and she liked the idea of at least one place in the entire city removed enough to escape from all of the chaos. One oasis tucked up near the smoggy clouds of Gotham City that she had some roundabout access too. And while this was really Eddie’s escape away from all the buzzing that surrounded everyone in the city, but maybe she could sneak up here every now and then when swinging through the skyline didn’t calm her brain down. She drank the last half of her martini, placed the glass on a nearby surface, and rocked a little on her bare feet. If he wasn’t all bruised up, she would smother him with kisses to make him forget all about what happened and drop any questions he might have for her. He earned a glance with a quirked eyebrow, a wry ghost of a smile, and fingers dragging down his arm. “Not do anything like what?” Her blues met his dark eyes, and there was that storminess there that had lingered for months after her father’s death. The kind of fury she tried her best to bury away, but still snuck through once and a while.

The dark glass reflected a small, thin smirk when she touched his arm and he tilted his head to look down at her. He recognized that storm and watched it bloom in her blue eyes like cream in coffee. Strangely, he wasn’t afraid of it and wasn’t even worried by its resurface. He knew he should be, but Eddie valued passion and tenacity in other people. If anything, he was vaguely attracted to it now that he understood the stubborn virtue behind it. “Don’t be coy. I’m supposed to be the troublemaker out of this getup.” He warned her and turned his body to face her, getting as close as he could with the sling blocking his chest. His good hand reached to touch the side of her face and he kissed skin between his fingers.

“You just want me to worry about you.” He murmured, fake anger rattling around in his throat. “Is that what this is? Some kind of sick prank to make the Riddler go grey long before he hits his golden years? Well, the joke’s on you. I’ve seen the future and I almost bald naturally. The color stays.” He paused and frowned. “Except when I’m a redhead, but that’s kind of a different story.”

The smirk and the way he looked down at her warmed her belly, or maybe that was just the two martinis she’d knocked back since they’d gotten to the top of Wonder Tower. “I’m not being coy,” she said simply, but she tilted her head because she knew she was being just a little. She couldn’t tell if he could see the anger bleeding through her emotions into her eyes, the alcohol breaking her brain filter, but he made no indication that he was scared or worried. No, quite the opposite as he shimmied forward into her personal space and she tilted her neck up to look at him. Leaning into his fingers, her eyes fluttered shut, and a small smile curled up the side of her liquor and frosting stained mouth.

“You’re already well past your golden years,” she whispered, one hand skirting up his chest and neck to tangle into his dark curls. “You’re just lucky that your body hasn’t caught up with that brain of yours yet.” She tapped the side of his temple, then let a tiny giggle slip out. “You’re a ginger at some point? That sounds like a nightmare for everyone involved. I’m already getting traumatized just thinking about it.”

“You are being coy.” He teased dryly. “Or at least evasive. And, again, I have to remind you that the second one is more my thing than yours.” Eddie could verbally and physically evade most situations or at least run a couple circles around people if he felt like it, but here they were. Him trying to be direct and honest with her smiling up at him while fire still burned in the back of her gaze. But, he was relenting and even if Eddie kind of hated himself for it, he wasn’t the type of guy to make something good go bad for the sake of ironing things out. Well, not on purpose anyway. So, instead he just moved in for a kiss, tasting her sugary sweet mouth before stepping away from her again, smacking his lips a little appreciatively.

“I was a glorious ginger. I even had blue eyes.” He walked over to one of the old fashioned, retro sofas and made himself comfortable. “And, tall. Taller than Joker. You would have loved it.” Eddie’s voice was a little brighter, loud with boasting. “But, you’re stuck with little old me instead.”

Eddie was right, of course. Steph was being evasive. Coy, even. Could he really expect her to want to talk about Arthur Brown right then and there? He had already ruined a majority of the night by stirring up trouble and then storming out on them both, and his words clearly still whispered at the back of Stephanie’s pissed off mind, and not a thing was going to stop that anytime soon, especially discussing it. And, she knew somewhere in the back of her head that she should talk about it. Healthy people did that after all, right? Talked to their boyfriends about daddy issues and the like. It wasn’t like they didn’t usually push at each other to talk through their problems. But, this felt different, and so she took that kiss with a greed that he hadn’t seen in some time. Before she could claim him for herself, however, he stepped away and walked towards that couch.

“I don’t think glorious and ginger should be in the same sentence.” She walked over to the bar to snatch a fork and the remnants of the cake. Her limbs felt fuzzy, and her face felt warm, and she hadn’t been this drunk in quite some time. Probably since she showed up on his doorstep on Christmas Day. Two martinis in quick succession and a couple generous glasses of wine at dinner will do that to you, especially to a blonde bat that didn’t indulge as often as girls her age usually would. She placed the cake and fork on the nearest coffee table, then climbed on the couch with him. “I think little old you will do okay, I guess.”

True to his word, Eddie pulled out yesterday’s paper, snatched a pen out from between the cushions and started doing the unfinished crossword puzzle. He kept a certain amount of distance from her on the couch, back against the arm as he folded one leg under the other that dangled off. He noticed how drunk she was in just the way she walked and looked, but figured it was for the best. Drinking to slow down the rest of the world wasn’t a crime and honestly he thought it was something people in Gotham didn’t do enough. He barely had time for it himself, only ever really drinking when he was lonely or sad or in Vegas without much of a brain to speak of. But, this wasn’t anything like Christmas where he slammed the door behind her and pushed her up against it with a need for her. A desire that was still there, but hidden under his injuries and insecurities that tonight drummed up.

He was quiet once he got into the crosswords, but it was a fidgety kind of quiet. Like he was waiting for something or couldn’t find a comfortable way to lay on his couch. Eddie thought about saying something inflamatory to get that fire back in her or making some excuse to go work at his computer, but he just sat there. Humming or sometimes counting out words on his fingers before filling them in.

Growing up with alcoholic and substance abusing parents didn’t quite lend to someone wanting to do the same. It never really appealed to Steph to bury her problems away in a bottle of booze, especially after seeing how it affected her mother and father. Still, there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there? It wouldn’t become a thing. It would never be a problem for her. She had too much riding on her actions and mistakes already, and she didn’t need to add young alcoholic to her long laundry list of screw ups. Tonight, however, it didn’t seem like a mistake. It was her birthday, after all, even if it didn’t quite feel that way. It made her dad seem a little more distant, the space between she and Eddie a little more tolerable, and the ache in her chest not as terrible. She watched him work on his puzzle in silence, breaking only now and then to scoop up some more of that cake.

And maybe she just wanted him to toss the paper aside and ravage her, or maybe she just wanted to leave the whole night behind. Go home, go to sleep, and pretend none of this happened. Staring at him as he counted off letters, she worried her bottom lip. Was he really upset with her? “Seriously?” she asked suddenly, control of her tongue finally lost among the booze and father-fueled angst. She tugged at the paper a little childishly. “It’s my birthday and you’re just gonna sit here and do puzzles?”

He narrowed his eyes at the paper, ignoring her until she tried to tug it from him and then sllloowwwly looked back up at her. It was hard to tell if he was being serious or not. And, while Eddie had a pretty bad poker face, he could give someone a look like his brain was running so efficiently that nothing could pierce through his puzzles and riddles. “How do you know I’m not always doing puzzles?” He asked, eyebrows finally arching with a aloof smile as he snapped the paper back. “I’m simply uncomfortable with our new dynamic. I’m trying to take my title back as the mysterious one. You’re making me feel inadequate.” Eddie’s smile turned into something a little cheesy, deliberately trying to get under her skin as he tossed the paper away and tugged at her dress as he sank deeper into the couch cushions.

“I got you a cake. I made you a drink. I invited you up to my clubhouse.” He counted off on his fingers for her and then shrugged. “I mean unless you want to play some board games I am fresh out of ideas.” Another shrug, grabbing a throw pillow and pushing it over the side of his face like he was trying to bury himself. “Unless I’m forgetting something. What else could there be?” Eddie’s voice reached that annoying high when he asked a question he clearly knew the answer to.

Steph blinked a couple of times, lips pursed and fighting the urge to roll her eyes until they got stuck in the back of her head. “Because I know you’re not. I’d know if you did it all the time.” She recognized the glint in his eyes when he was lost in puzzles and riddles, and for once, she couldn’t quite tell if he was really consumed or just playing at it. Nevertheless, she frowned, and then actually did roll her eyes as he continued to speak. “No, no,” she chirped in sarcastically. “You don’t get to corner the market on being mysterious 24/7, Edward. And I’m not being mysterious.” She was allowed to not want to talk sometimes, right? He couldn’t have a monopoly on being the incommunicative one in their relationship all the time.

She sighed heavily, but smirked a little when he tossed the paper away and tugged at her dress. Scooting forward, she closed some of the distance between she and Eddie, but not enough to be suggestive. Two could play this game. “Board games? Do you have Clue? Or cards for poker? Strip poker, maybe?” A thoughtful noise rumbled in the back of her throat, a hum that was a little too high to be completely innocent, and she eyed Eddie. “What do we always say, Eddie? You’re the brains of the operation.” Still, she reached forward to tug off his loosen tie all the way, and she smiled innocently up at him.

He lifted a single finger and murmured under the throw pillow, “Stop calling me Edward.” She knew very well how his name hierarchy worked and the people who still called him Edward and Nigma on the regular got put into a specific box that was mostly filled with Bats and brood. The raised index finger gently prodded for her body blindly, discovering the curve of her hip and traced over it before unapologetically moving up, up her frame before dropping back down suddenly like he ran out of energy. He made a whining noise as she tried to take away his title of Mister Mysterioso in Gotham, pressing the pillow down on his face like he was planning on smothering himself before yanking it off and tossing it over the back of the couch. “I invented that market. I turned that market into a fortress of mystery that no one can get into.” He snapped his fingers at her. “Except Zatanna. She gets a free pass. But everyone else.”

Eddie grinned up at her, realized he was grinning and then worked hard to box it away. Mouth scrunching up in a forced frown and mock grumpiness because she didn’t get to crawl under his skin so easily. It wasn’t convincing, though and eventually he settled for a lingering smirk. He snatched the air as she loosened his tie all the way and then gave up as if he realized he didn’t actually mind her taking off articles of his clothing. “What about strip shuffle board?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I drew one out on the balcony in one of my fits of senior citizen-itus.”

She smirked, a little pleased to rankle under his skin by using his full name. She knew what it implied, and she herself only used to when she was irritated or angry or wanted to get a point across. It was a little bit of all of that this time, but she let the righteous indignation slip to the wayside in favor of a better time to salvage whatever they could of this shitty night. Crap, maybe she should have used her wish for that. Fix up everything that happened. Erase the pen marks they all doodled over dinner. Something. “Eddie,” Steph said, trying her best to frown and looked unimpressed. “You can’t talk about giving other women free passes, especially on my birthday.”

She failed pretty much, of course, especially when he screwed up his mouth like that. “Don’t make that face,” she murmured, shifting closer to him, close enough to climb into his lap, and her blue eyes grew dark with something that hadn’t been there all day. Want, need, overwhelming desire for her riddled man. She fiddled with the top few buttons of his shirt with a quiet smirk and slung one of her legs across his lap and around his waist. Toes wiggling against his back. “You’re such an old man sometimes,” she teased, using his collar as leverage to tug him forward. Her lips hovered over his with a sharp smile, breath sweet from the liquor. “I don’t have my AARP card yet. I don’t know if I’m ready.”

His eyebrows shot up as Stephanie moved closer, convinced that booze or not she wasn’t even going to look at him like that tonight. The tight, controlled smirk loosened, a little more teeth flashing from the side of his mouth like a swindler caught off guard. “I was kidding, I swear.” He said softly, eyelids heavy with each button pushed loose and every inch her lips crept closer. “I only go out there when I want to practice my Aggro climb. How else do you think I got my trophy on the edge like that?” Eddie tilted his head towards the window where the green question mark blinked from the outside. And, it did look like someone had to climb out there to place it, but Eddie was always a little more clever than that. He tilted his head back to look up at her, his good hand resting on her hip and he reached to kiss her lips, but swerved away from her at the last second.

“I don’t really attach an age to myself anymore.” He ran a thumb up her side like he was pulling fabric to look for a zipper. Come to think of it, what she was wearing reminded him of her getup on Christmas Eve. He tangled his fingers in the fabric of this dress, remembering how he grasped onto her when she pushed against his body in fake Wayne Manor. Messy and desperate for her after keeping his distance for months. “You wouldn’t have liked me in my twenties, anyway. Less riddles. More sticky fingers and a baaad attitude.” Eddie remembered knowing that he was the smartest guy in every room, jail cell and batmobile trunk. “There would have been a lot more angry fooling around. And, lectures. It’d be hot, but mostly boring.”

Steph laughed quietly. “Yeaaah, sure. If I go out there now, there’s totally gonna be a shuffleboard set up there. Iced prune juice. Some Matlock playing in the background. The total works for someone at retirement age.” She smirked down at him, and the quirk of her blonde brow let him know she was teasing, mostly. A little goodhearted prodding with Eddie didn’t ever really steer her too far off with him. And if it did? She could always sweep up the pieces quickly enough. She glanced over at the balcony briefly, spotting the glowing trophy hanging off there with some impossibility. “Magic,” she said, as if the answer was totally obvious. “Is that why Z gets a free pass? She helped you with that? Don’t take credit for other people’s work.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt him lean in, but snapped open when the kiss she waited for didn’t happen.

A quiet whine escaped her throat, something childish and so very like him. A noise that moved up to a higher pitch as his hands searched for something to tug down. “Tease,” she breathed as she slid full-flushed into his lap, pressing as much of herself against him as she could. “You’re probably right. I’ve dated enough younger assholes to want to move onto an older crowd. More mature? Maybe not.” Her lips hovered again, but she didn’t steal that kiss she waited for. No, she liked this little game they were playing. It helped her forget about dinner, at least for the moment. She could always lose herself in him and not regret it. “Pretty hot. Maybe we’ll have to test it out one day. But, for now, you’ll do.” She shrugged, slipping her hand underneath the sweater vest to open up the rest of the buttons, careful to not press against his worst injuries.

“Z gets a free pass because of the fishnets.” Eddie said slyly, that familiar doggish wiggle of his eyebrows, fully aware that now he was going steady with a girl he couldn’t just say stuff like that and get away with it. But, he couldn’t help himself. Eddie was the nerdy kid on the playground who shouted nice ass to girls only to have their boyfriend of the week beat the crap out of him for it. And, it was always worth it. Smug and pleased with himself when she whined at his fake-out, he was too busy patting himself on the back to see her own almost kiss coming. He gave her a stern look like she had just broken eleventy billion rules and decided that this was a game he was certain to win. Even when she pushed herself against him, even when she trailed her hands up his bruised and battered chest so delicately. He had to win.

Eddie exhaled jaggedly, almost nervous that she’d accidentally hit one of his weaker points and adjusted his sling. He liked being the handsy one or at least able to participate a little more, but this wasn’t half bad. He reached up with his good arm and ran his fingers through her messy blonde hair, dark eyes locking with hers to make up for all of that awkward avoidance from before. “I like this better. I can run other scenarios through my head with different mes and yous. A lot of them end with more broken noses. And, we’re what? On four collectively? Five? Good lord.”

(click here for part two)