#riddler x reader

Your foot was buried against the accelerator, pushing the car to its limits. Sirens wailed somewhere behind you. The Batmobile couldn’t be far back. You swerved around a car, missing it by inches.

“Would you slow down before you kill us both?!” Edward shouted, one hand clinging onto the grab handle above the door.

“The Bat’s gonna catch us if I slow down,” you replied calmly, jerking the wheel left. As you narrowly avoided an oncoming car, “Highway Star” suddenly blared through the car. Your ringtone. Your face scrunched up as you used your hand to dig in your pocket. “Who the…”

“Eyes on the road!”

“Yeah, my damn eyes are on the road, shut up.” You scowled, still fumbling in your pocket for your phone. Finally, your fingers closed around it, fishing it out. You glanced at the caller ID. Oh shit.

Your ma.

Without hesitation, you accepted the call and put it on speaker. One hand stayed on the wheel, the other held your phone. Edward stared at you in utter disbelief.

“Hey, ma.” You greeted, swerving around another car. “You’re on speaker.”

“Hiya, sweetpea!” Ma’s warm voice filled the car. You awkwardly glanced at Edward, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “Oh, are any of your little gang pals with ya?”

“Uh…” You trailed off, eyes widening as a GCPD car tried to cut you off from the side. Nope. Not happening. You swerved around them. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“...Gang pal?” He muttered, a scowl beginning to form on his face. Several horns blared around you.

“Wait… what the hell are you doin’?” She questioned.

“Rush hour gets pretty bad here in Gotham,” you blurted out.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Ya think I’m stupid? I raised ya.”

“I’m in a goddamn car chase, ma. I’m busy.”

“Oh, so you’re doin’ you’re fuckin’ gang crap again? Good lord.” You could feel the disappointment hit you like a sledgehammer. “Okay, well, whateva don’t get caught.”

Edward’s confusion slowly gave way to realization. It lasted all of half a second before his eyes widened in pure panic. “LEFT! MAKE A LEFT HERE!”

You swerved left so fast, you could hear the tires screech.

“Who the hell is that? That doesn’t sound like Jose or Steve.”

“Different gang pal, ma.” You answered. Edward stared you down with the most offended expression imaginable.

“...Did you just call me a gang pal?”

“Shut up, Nigma. Keep navigatin’.”

The sirens were growing fainter. Was Batman still even going after you guys? Maybe Joker suddenly blew up a bank or whatever the fuck he did for laughs.

“Anyways, I wanted to call to ask a favor,” your mom continued like nothing happened.

“Whaddya want?” Your eyes darted around, trying to see any sign of that damn Batmobile.

“Liana’s birthday is next week. I need ya to pick up the cake.”

“From where?”

“Nothing Bundt Cakes.”

You made a horrified face, stealing a glance at Edward. He looked equally horrified, as though he’d rather be in an actual car crash than listen to another second of this conversation.

“Ma, she hates that place,” you hissed.

“Well, she’s gonna have to deal with it. I already made the order.”

Edward stared straight ahead, as though pretending not to hear would somehow erase the conversation from his memory.

“Okay, fine, I’ll get the damn cake,” you relented. “I’ll see ya next week.”

“Thanks, sweetpea.” You could almost envision your mom’s smug look from the other end. “By the way, you can invite your gang pals or whateva.”

“No.” You refused. “Li’s gonna hate it.”

“My house, my rules… Anyways, love ya. Don’t die.”

“Love ya too.” You immediately ended the call. A silence fell between the two of you. You could feel the embarrassment settle deep in your bones.

“Make a right here.” You drove beneath the bridge overpass. “Stop the car.”

The car was tucked far enough beneath the overpass to stay out of sight, so you turned off the engine. The plan was simple. Wait things out, then head back to his base. You loved playing the waiting game after the most mortifying experience of your life.

“...Sweetpea? Really?” He asked at last. Edward really couldn’t help keeping his mouth shut.

“God forbid I have a ma,” you scoffed.

“You really had to answer the call while we were getting away from Batman?”

“If I didn’t answer, she’d kill me.” You sighed.

“Oh, please.” Edward rolled his eyes. “I’m sure one missed call from your mother wouldn’t result in your death.”

You stared at him. “You don’t get it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“She found out where my warehouse was.” Your mind flashbacked to all of your people that she screamed at, and then you. “I didn’t even tell her where it was. Why the fuck would I?”

“...How?”

“You think I fuckin’ know?” You threw your hands up in the air.

“She must have followed you.”

“She drives a pistachio green beat up Odyssey. I would’ve noticed!”

“Then one of your associates told her.” Edward kept throwing out theories at the wall now, hoping one of them will stick.

“No way,” you denied, “I made sure that nobody knows I got family besides my gang.”

“A tracker?”

“Ma needs help turning on her laptop,” you scoffed.

“There has to be an answer for this,” Edward ran a hand through his hair. “I refuse to believe that your mother is omnipotent.”

“Believe what you want. She just knows.”

Edward opened his mouth to argue, only to be cut off by the low, unmistakable growl of the Batmobile. The two of you froze, your hand ready to start the engine again. Edward slowly lowered himself in his seat.

“...Do not move,” he muttered.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” You mirrored him, sinking into your seat. The turbine’s roar grew louder, then louder still. A shadow swept across the mouth of the underpass before continuing down the road. Neither of you spoke. Seconds dragged by. You could feel yourself tense up, expecting a fight.

Then, the sound began to fade. You let out the breath you’d been holding.

“...Think he bought it?” You stole a glance at Edward, his eyes narrowed. He was thinking, focused. He listened for another moment before nodding once.

“For now.”

The two of you shimmied back up your seats.

“Should we just ditch the car?” You asked, looking at him. Edward gave you the most offended look imaginable, just as bad after Ma called him a ‘gang pal’.

“Absolutely not,” he protested.

“Why?”

“It’s my car,” Edward said, as if that explained everything.

“Well, the Bat is lookin’ for this car. We gotta cut our losses and get outta here.”

“I am not leaving my vehicle here for it to be debased by the homeless!” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. You sighed, burying your face in your hands.

“...Nigma-”

“No.” He cut you off firmly. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Why the hell are you so attached to the damn car?”

“Because I modified it.” Oh no. He was gonna monologue again- “this vehicle is an extension of myself. It is the foundation for the Riddlemobile-”

“Nigma, this car was barely pushin’ ninety miles!” You cried out. “It’s just a damn sedan!”

“That is because it is not yet complete!” Edward sighed, exasperated that apparently you didn’t understand the big picture. “Once I modify the engine, it will-”

Bright headlights suddenly flooded the interior of the car. Your hand instinctively shot for the keys, twisting the ignition.

“WE SHOULDA LEFT YOUR DAMN CAR!” You snarled, squinting against the lights with the car roaring to life. Edward braced himself against the dashboard.

“I fail to see how this is my fault!”

“You literally refused to ditch the damn thing!”

You floored the accelerator in reverse. The sedan lurched backward, and then promptly stalled.

“FUCK!” You slammed your hands on the wheel.

“Stop assaulting my vehicle!”

“You’re the one who made the fuckin’ modifications!” You pointed at him accusingly.

“As I’ve mentioned before, the modifications are incomplete.”

“Then why are we using this fuckin’ car!” You cried out in despair.

“Because it was the only vehicle available with the required modifications.”

“Then we coulda used my car, Nigma!”

“Your vehicle is revolting. It reeks of whiskey.”

You were gonna lose your damn mind. “Jesus Christ, Nigma! At least my fuckin’ car-”

Two hesitant knocks jolted the both of you out of your argument. A familiar silhouette at the driver’s door.

“Boss? Mr. Nigma?” Holy shit. “Is that you?”

“Steve!” You unbuckled your seatbelt and slammed open the door, knocking him off his feet. “Fuckin’ hell! Thank god you’re here.”

Steve groaned from the pavement. “...Hi, boss.”

“You good?” You offered him a hand and hauled him back to his feet.

“Yeah… you just hit me with the car door.”

“I mean, yeah, but you good?”

“...I think so.”

“How the hell did you find us?” You questioned. Edward got out of the car as well.

Steve scratched the back of his head. “Jose, uh… He told me where to look.”

Your face scrunched up, “...what? How’d he know we’d be here?”

Steve shifted on his feet, eyes darting around nervously. “Said it was top secret.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘top secret’? I’m your boss.”

“...He said you’d say that, so he didn’t tell me.” Steve winced. You sighed. Whatever. You just wanted to get out of here.

“We’ll deal with it later.” You waved it off. “Let’s just get outta here before the Bat comes back.”

“What about my car?” Edward demanded.

“W-We got some tow chains back at the base!” Steve offered helpfully. “I’ll bring you two back and I’ll come back for the car, Mr. Nigma. No problemo!”

Edward looked like he was going to experience a stroke.

“Nigma, come on, I don’t wanna stand out here any longer,” you were basically pleading at this point. Edward stared at Steve for a few moments before letting out a long, reluctant sigh.

“...Very well.” He glared at Steve. “You will return for it immediately after you drop us off.”

“Yes, Mr. Nigma!” Steve saluted. You pinched the bridge of your nose. You kept telling him to stop. It was only going to encourage Edward.

“If a single scratch appears on it…”

“I’ll guard it with my life, Mr. Nigma!” Steve’s eyes were sparkling with determination. Edward looked positively pleased with himself, seemingly delighted that one of your subordinates was treating him like he was the fucking president.

“Just gimme the damn keys.” You gestured for Steve to throw you the keys for his beat up truck. 

“Yes, boss.”

“Jesus, Nigma,” you scanned the area. The death trap was ready, a woman was gagged and screaming, something about ‘Please help me’ or ‘I don’t want to die’. Her screaming was gonna make you deaf, “where the fuck did you find this girl at?”

“I have a selective-ive process for my hostages,” he sniffed, watching from a far away area. Edward really needed to update his speakers too. He sounded like he was glitching out all the time. "Not that you-ou would understand."

The woman’s voice was cracking. Ugh.

“Does it involve how loudly they gotta beg for you to spare them?” Your eyes look up at the ceiling of the abandoned warehouse. No Bats. Her volume was not decreasing. It was gonna give you a headache at this rate. “Hey, can you shut up?”

She kept screaming.

“Nigma, I’m gonna knock her out if she keeps this up.”

“She has a role to fulfill-ill!” Edward protested. You rolled your eyes. “Must you roll your eyes! You are acting-ing like a child!”

“Yeah, well you’re not the one here listening to her bitchin’ and moanin’ for an hour!” You turned your attention towards the speaker, as if Edward could see your annoyance. You wouldn’t doubt it, the guy installed cameras everywhere. You could hear the woman sobbing in the elaborate puzzle that Edward created. You sighed, glancing at her. She’s a mess, mascara running down her face, curled up in a ball. “God, if you wanna get outta here, solve the damn puzzle.”

“It-” She choked, “I-I don’t know how!”

“Yeah, he probably made it too hard and was like,” you cleared your throat, putting your hands on your hips, “‘Anyone could solve this with a brain cell.’”

“That is not what I said!” He raised his voice, nearly shouting, “Your imitation-ion of me is embarrassingly inaccurate!”

“That’s what I heard,” you smirked. Suddenly, you heard a strangled yelp over the speaker. You frowned. “...Nigma?”

No response…

Your eyes widened. Oh shit.

Your head quickly whipped around to the ceiling and saw a large figure descending upon you. His combat boot meets your face and the world goes dark.

You weren’t sure how long you were out for. You groggily open your eyes, your lower jaw sore. You tried moving your arm, but it was restrained. Looking down at yourself, you see the familiar sight of the Batmobile carseat, the restraint locking you in like you were in for the worst ride of your life. You leaned over and see Edward in a similar state, his face twisted in that familiar scowl and sporting a bruise on his eye.

“This is your fault,” you blamed him.

“Here we go again,” the bird boy warily sighed from the front.

“What on earth are you talking about?!” Edward gladly rose to the accusation. “If you actually followed the plan and kept a look out for Batman, this would have never happened!”

“It’s not my fault the hostage that you picked kept screaming so damn loud,” you scoffed, “also, didn’t you get your ass kicked by bird brain over there?”

“You were distracting me with your meaningless drivel in the warehouse!”

“You can just not listen,” you offered, “you can just ignore me.”

Edward went silent.

“It is imperative that I know what happens in that warehouse,” he finally responded, turning his head away.

“Right, I’m sure,” you rolled your eyes again. You tried to twist your head to see the Bat and bird boy, but it was nearly impossible. “God, you need to fix these damn car seats.”

“They’re restraints,” the bird boy clarified.

“I can’t even feel my ass because of how hard these damn seats are,” you kept going. You felt like you needed to. You hated the rides in the Batmobile. Hell, you would rather ride in a police vehicle to Arkham Asylum, at least those were comfortable and they didn’t have those damn restraints besides handcuffs. You kept testing the restraints, shifting in them.

“Can you stop moving? It’s annoying,” Edward spat out. You felt warmer, your hands beginning to tremble. It was destroying you alive.

“Shut up, Nigma. It’s fuckin’ hot in here,” you snarled back. You hear the window on your side lower just a bit, the cool air hitting your face. You huffed in relief. Finally. As much as you could, you sank in your seat. How much longer until Arkham?

…

Should you piss off Edward to pass the time?

“What’s your next plan to defeat Batman?”

You could hear Edward shift in his seat, probably staring at you with an incredulous look “...Why would I even discuss that now?”

“Uh, what was that thing you were talkin’ about?” You scrunched up your face, “it’s intellectual warfare or whatever.”

“What is wrong with you?” He scoffed, “I would never discuss my future plans in my intellectual rival’s car. I have to stay ten steps ahead of the-”

You could hear the bird boy groan in the front. You snorted.

“Why are you laughing?” Edward demanded sharply.

“Nothin’,” you shrugged, immediately returning to a neutral expression.

“No, clearly it was something.”

Dammit, you shouldn’t have laughed. Edward was always perceptive, even when he was getting caught up with telling you how stupid you were. You felt the Batmobile begin to slow down. A good chance to push another one of Edward’s buttons.

“Looks like we’re here,” you changed the topic. “Home sweet home.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he seethed. Bats and bird boy exit the car, the trunk of the Batmobile opening. You inhaled the fresh air, the restraints loosening. Bats released the restraint and grabbed your wrists, putting handcuffs on them. You leap out of the car, firmly planting your feet on the ground. Batman’s firm hands grasped your shoulders and guided you to the entrance of the asylum. Robin does the same for Edward. Edward grunted.

“Guess you’ll never know,” you rubbed in, knowing it’s gonna haunt him until he harasses you in the cafeteria. You watch as his face twists into irritation, him shrugging off Robin’s hand.

“Unhand me!” Edward snarled, and then he glared at you, “I’m never going to work with you ever again.”

“Alright,” you smirked, looking at the towering asylum.

“I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“You are irresponsible, you never follow plans, you’re insufferable to be around,” Edward had a list ready, but then again, he was always prepared.

“Can you be more creative? I already heard this shit before, Nigma,” you laughed openly. Glancing at Edward, his face was beginning to turn red and if it weren’t for the handcuffs, he’d probably be strangling you right now.

“Do you have to keep provoking him?” Robin interjected the moment Edward was about to open his mouth.

“He gets easy to rile up,” you shrugged, “I’ll stop when he stops...”

“That's not going to happen anytime soon.” Batman broke the silence. It caught you off guard. You barked out a loud laugh. Edward looked mortified and even more angry.

“I’m going to kill you! All of you!” His gaze flickered between the three of you. Classic Edward.

You grinned at him.

Your restful sleep was interrupted, once again, by Eddie's selfish streak. It was impossible to tell sometimes whether he truly didn't realise how much of a disruption he could be and therefor made no efforts to change this, or whether he was so self-important that he chose to ignore your peace instead of ever altering the way he interacted with your world. Either way, you would forgive him. You always did, given that the purpose of your existence was to please him. And despite your dangerous levels of sleep deprivation, something that came with the job, with the relationship, you were awake and giddy the moment he stepped into the bedroom.

"Eddie! It's so late… I can't believe you're only coming to bed now."

He offered no response but an indeterminable grunt, focusing mainly on shrugging off his shirt to reveal his filthy, stained vest underneath. His arms, now visible, had a distinct line where the short sleeves of his top layer protected his skin from the grime of his work. Like tan lines, but where dirt ceased to mark him. Then his belts were unbuckled, kept within the loops of the cargo pants that he wriggled free of before letting them fall to the floor in an easy to access pile that he would reach for in a few hours when he got up again. No shower, no changing of underwear or his top, just straight into the bed. Exactly as you liked him.

Watching Eddie as he worked on his various projects was the highlight of your day, usually. Seeing him exert the kind of competency that came with his skill and intelligence, the strong sense of masculinity in the work he did that he tended not to exude at any other time of the day or in any other situation. The scents of the motor oil, metallic heat, dust, and his sweat. They were the notes of your arousal. And when he entered the bedroom straight from his workshop without any intentions of showering or changing, it meant you could spend the whole night revelling in his scent. It called to you, pulled you like a magnet. So much so that by the time he had shuffled himself onto the mattress and under the sheets, you were curling around his side. One leg against his, another over the top to pin him there on his back. Your hands moved to him immediately, one playing gently with the dark strands atop his head, careful to avoid the point at the rear where it had begun to thin much the same as the pattern baldness at his temples and the receding hairline on his forehead, the other stroking the lighter, greying hair on his torso that protruded above the low neck line of his vest.

"I missed you so much."

As you stroked his chest, you began to nuzzle yourself into his side, breathing deeply to take in his scent. You leaned across him, trying to hug him tighter, but he let out a gentle groan of protest and shifted himself up a little, his spine at an angle that better suited the aches that plagued him. His age was far more obvious these days, something you were pleased by, but despite being well past the starting point of middle-age, you suspected a lot of what caused him to appear older could be attributed to his horrendous lifestyle choices rather than anything naturally biological. His mind was still sharp, his body still capable and surprisingly strong. But his hair greyed, his face wrinkled deeply with well-worn scorn and frustration, and his tolerance levels made him seem far grumpier than someone with the optimism of youth might have been. All of that, of course, only meant that you found yourself loving him more. You appreciated every little bit of him, all of the things that changed and all of the things that stayed the same.

You were entirely unable to keep yourself from of him, particularly when he was so tired and lacking the will to wave you off. Normally he would pretend to loathe the attention and the affection that you so desperately desired to impart on him, but when he was laying comfortably under the sheets it was another story. Then, and often only then, did he actually want you to touch him. More than accepted it, he craved it. And with no shame he told you as much when you questioned what kind of mood he was in, trying to gauge how receptive he might be to your advances.

"Is this OK, Eddie? I know sometimes I can be a little bit… overbearing, maybe, but-"

"This is more than acceptable. You can soothe me. Even a mind like mine can benefit from being quietened every so often. Any chance at relaxation assists in new synapses forming, cells refreshing, cognitive processing. It's a task I'm happy for you to assist with."

You were perfectly aware of what the underlying message was in his statement. He'd remarked before about how relieving the tension he collected so easily was a certified way to assure that his efforts the next day would be of a higher quality. Laying with him, on top or below, and letting him pummel his stresses into your body with clumsy ruts and guttural moaning seemed to lighten his load, for want of a better analogy. So you got to work, your hands moving less in a gentle comforting manner and far more lasciviously now, intentions unmistakable as you traced his chest hair down past his sternum, over his navel, and down under the band of his underwear.

His cock was flaccid, twitching only slightly to life as you wrapped your fingers around it and began to squeeze firmly. Stroking it up and down brought sighs to Eddie's lips, and he moved his arms behind his head, getting comfortable. It was a sight to see, Edward Nigma finally at rest, allowing someone else to take control. But as the minutes passed you could tell there was something not quite right. He squirmed uncomfortably, adjusting his position, breathing in and out softly at first, then in deep, exaggerated motions, grumbling under his breath the whole time. He wasn't hard. He wasn't getting hard. You were working his length the way you knew he liked, but it wasn't having the same effect it usually did.

In a bid to try and change things up, to see if something new might make a difference, you tried twisting your wrist as you moved your palm up and down. A long strand of drool dropped from your lips and you slicked his cock by spreading it with your palm. Your heart sank as he interrupted you.

"No… No, that isn't working. I think I might need a minute longer to…"

Eddie let his words trail off, unable to find the words for this particularly embarrassing situation. Over-explaining himself would seem like admitting there was an issue, and he couldn't be to blame. Nothing was ever his fault, of course. He hated that he wanted to blame you, despite the fact you were the only positive sensation he'd experienced the whole day, but it was just his nature. He couldn't lash out at himself, and you were the only one there.

"Oh for f- This is ridiculous! Could you stop for a second, you're not making this better! Or easier. Give me a minute to just- I just…"

He'd grown frustrated with himself, at his inability to rise to the occasion. Was he really that old? That stressed? That useless? This was a first, but it was a difficult situation to navigate, new or otherwise. But in his frustration, he had lashed out at you, the one person who was not to blame at all. In his mind, he could catch himself, adjust his attitude, and recognise that you were not at fault. It might never reach his lips, but the sentiments of regret were there, and he realigned himself, taking a breath and placing his hand atop yours in a gesture of affection that he could tolerate. Another deep and steady inhale, and he put all of his brainpower towards being a human being, one capable of being perhaps not nice but at the very least, not cruel.

"I… I apologise. I shouldn't- I'm just- Stressed, or- Not stressed, it's just… This isn't-"

"It's OK. Honestly. It happens."

Normally, you would be on the receiving end of a ferocious lecture on manners when interrupting him, but he let this one slide. You were helping him out of a hole he was digging for himself, and he was grateful. Your delicate approach to the source of his ire was precisely what he needed, and he hated to feel like he was punishing you for it. He couldn't exactly change his tone, that wasn't in his nature, but he could opt for silence. No words were better than cruel ones.

"Eddie, it's fine. I'm here for you. All I ever want is to make you happy, or make your life a little bit easier. Whatever you want from me, you'll get it."

He paused for a moment, his eyes closed, relaxing into his thoughts.

"I want you to keep going. It might not… End… With anything. But I feel the journey may be more important in this particular situation."

"It always is to me, Eddie."

With his permission to keep going, you moved your palms to his testicles, cupping them with a firm grip, enjoying the weight of them in your hand. You had no intention of trying to coax an erection from him, now. This was about adoration, about worship. Those came so easily to you where Eddie was concerned. And so did the urge to taste. It wasn't enough to see, to touch, to smell him. You wanted the tang of his body on your tongue. So you move your head towards his soft cock, placing your lips along the length in whispering kisses before attempting, rather clumsily, to get it between your lips. Once you had it there, limp but filling, you started sucking it, slow but with enthusiasm. It was nice, soothing almost. You could easily find yourself comforted to the point of total relaxation just from the sensation of his easy to manage cock against your tongue.

Normally, when you serviced Eddie like that, he could be a little bit aggressive. Forceful. Demanding a lot from your mouth and your lungs. And as much as you appreciated knowing how desperate he was, how badly he wanted to feel your tongue and your throat, it was nice to be in control of it for a change.

He was muttering, incomprehensibly immediately, and you wondered at first if you were unable to make it out because of the sound of your drool and slurping, but you realised quickly he was mumbling as he fell asleep. Eddie had been so stressed, so exhausted, that the minute you allowed him the space to just sit back and stop overthinking or worrying about his ability to perform for you, his body had given in to his human needs, the ones he ignored so often.

“So, you’re proclaiming that you can beat me in chess?” Edward’s familiar smirk assaulted you from the other side of the board. The two of you were sitting in his office, a set up chessboard on his desk. You grinned back.

“That’s right,” you boasted, “and you know won’t know what hit you.”

“If you say so.” He doesn’t believe you, but who cares, you’re gonna show him.

“Just watch,” you merely say, picking up a white pawn and placing it down, “g4. I gotta get the bishop out.”

Edward doesn’t respond, only giving you a look with his eyebrow raised. He placed his pawn at e5. You chuckle to yourself.

“You’re not gonna see what’s coming,” you muttered, confidently placing another pawn at f3. He pauses, stunned at your brilliance.

“...Are you serious?” Edward manages to say.

“...Yup.” Should you be worried? You’re starting to feel it. He’s seeing something that you don’t see. No… No. He’s trying to psych you out. You’re not falling for it. “Your move.”

He picks up his queen and moves it to H4. “Checkmate.”

Your grin becomes an expression of shock, realizing you just exposed your king in place with nowhere to go. You covered your mouth with your hand.

“I suppose you’re right… I didn’t see that coming.” The smirk grew on his face, his ego was getting bigger. You immediately stand up.

“I gotta go do that job.”

“The Fool’s Mate. Fitting,” he mocked. You start walking towards the door, covering your ears. “Do try to best me again in chess. Maybe you could do the impossible and lose in one move.

A narrow escape from the Bat, but at what cost? You were sitting on a crate, getting ready to push your dislocated shoulder back into place. One of your eyes was nearly swollen and you could barely see anything. Your body felt numb, Batman launched punch after punch, never giving you a chance to recover. This was definitely the second worst you’ve felt after an encounter with the Dark Knight.

Edward didn’t look too much better, laying on the concrete floor. He was fuming, rubbing his temple, and swearing under his breath, probably something about Batman cheating or whatever. That’s his go-to excuse.

You noticed he was staring at the ceiling for a bit. Yeah, Batman got a really good headbutt on Edward before your goons sacrificed themselves to let you both escape. You should probably break them out of Blackgate in a couple of weeks.

“He…He cheated. He must’ve cheated,” Edward’s words slurred. You probably should take him to Crane in a bit. He’ll know a guy.

“Yeah, yeah, he cheated,” you grumbled, snapping your shoulder back with a sickening pop, “FUCK!”

“You’re talking too… loud!” Edward clutched his head. You hopped off the crate, somewhat stumbling on the landing. You limped over to where Edward is.

“My bad,” you gave a half-hearted apology, offering your hand to him, “okay, come on, Nigma. Let’s go see, Crane.”

“Crane is… unnecessary,” he slowly said. You rolled your eyes. Still a pain in the ass even when concussed, “I’m perfectly fine to keep working.”

“If you say so,” you shrugged, “remind me where your workshop is again?”

Edward paused, staring at you, “you’ve… you’ve been there plenty of times.”

“I just need a reminder,” you shifted on your legs, favoring your right, “a good fight always gets my head jumbled up.”

“...Right,” he nodded. You smirked, “I’ll drive us there to my hideout, since clearly… your head isn’t functioning… as per usual.”

“Uh,” you stopped smirking, “lemme do it, you’ve been working too hard.”

“I always work hard,” he agreed, stumbling when he stood up. You grabbed his arm to steady him. He tried to escape your grasp, “I don’t need… assistance to walk.”

“It’s hard for me to walk,” not exactly a lie, “just lemme use you as a crutch.”

The walk to the car was brutal, Edward was leaning on you more and you had to rely on your right leg to do the heavy lifting. He was surprisingly heavy for a lean-looking guy. It didn’t help that he was making this harder than it had to be, stumbling over his own feet and stepping on your left foot. You had to grit your teeth to not yelp each time. By the time you reached the car, you were gasping for air and sweating intensely. You guided him to the passenger door.

“Gimme the damn keys,” you heaved. Edward stuck his hand in his green slacks pocket, fishing around for a minute and handing it to you. You take it like you were accepting a gold medal, unlocking the car and opening the door. Edward awkwardly bumped into the frame and hit his head against the roof. He groaned, clutching his head. You sighed, this would’ve been funny if you weren’t dealing with your own pain. You closed the passenger door gently, and hobbled over to the driver’s side.

You got in the car, watching Edward miss the seat buckle twice. He frowned, narrowing his eyes. You shook your head, starting the car.

“...Why isn’t it working?” He muttered, in growing frustration. You didn’t answer, pulling out of the warehouse lot. You hear the click. “Ha!”

“Allow me to… guide you back to my hideout,” Edward’s tone was smug, but from the corner of your eye, you see him flinch at bright lights of the other cars. Yeah. You are absolutely not taking him back to his hideout. After a few moments, Edward pointed with his hand, “you need to make a left here… or… nevermind, make a left at the next street.”

This fucker can’t even give you directions.

You make a right instead.

“Wait…” Edward paused, “that’s not a left.”

“I’m directionally challenged.”

Edward stared at you for a long time, “no, you are not.”

“Nope.”

“You are… deliberately ignoring my instructions.”

“Yep.”

“...Why?” He narrowed his eyes.

You glanced at Edward long enough to see him wince as another pair of headlights swept over the windshield.

“Because we ain’t going to your hideout.”

“...We aren’t?” Edward frowned harder.

“Cause you’re acting funny,” you pointed out, making a left, “you got your bell rung by the Bat.”

“...I am not acting ‘funny’.”

“You nearly made us turn on the wrong street.”

“I corrected myself.”

“You struggled getting in the car.”

“Manufacturing issues.”

“You kept stumbling over your own feet.”

He said nothing, only crossing his arms.

“...Crane is unnecessary.”

“We’re still going,” you didn’t budge. Edward sighed, rested his head against the window, and muttered something about how people refused to understand his brilliance. You pretended to not hear it. After about twenty minutes, you pulled up to Crane’s abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham. The engine slowly died, leaving only the sounds of distant traffic and the groan of old metal from somewhere inside the structure. You climbed out of the car, less gracefully than you intended. Every joint in your body protested. You watched Edward squinting at the seat belt, then your gaze flickered back to the building. He’s got it… probably.

“Crane!” You shouted at the building. No response, “CRANE!”

Your voice echoed through the abandoned building. For a moment, there was silence, then a figure emerged from the building.

“Must you announce yourself like an air raid siren?” Crane was in a lab coat, goggles on his face, and he frowned.

“It’s called making an entrance,” you retorted, “try it out sometimes.”

Crane’s gaze flickered to you, and then lingered on Edward, who successfully managed to release himself from the seat belt and was now attempting to walk in a perfectly straight line.

He failed.

“...You do understand,” Crane said at last, “that although I am a psychiatrist, I am not an emergency physician.”

Edward squinted at him.

“Don’t you got like doctor experience?” You frowned, attempting to cross your arms, but decided against it after your shoulder started to protest, “or like doctor friends who know this stuff?”

Crane gave you a long stare.

“I am a psychiatrist.”

“Okay,” you pointed to Edward, who was swaying. You grabbed his arm to keep him steady, “then doctor him up.”

Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and sighing, “while I am able to check if he is concussed, I do not have the medical equipment to check for brain hemorrhages."

“Then, I can steal it for you,” you offered. Crane looked at you with resignation.

“In your current state?”

“I mean, how hard can it be?” You shrugged, flinching at the pain flashing in your shoulder. “Well, I mean it’s not gonna be easy.”

“There is no need for action that will attract Batman's attention,” he said dryly, “I know someone who has the machine, and is properly equipped to tend to Edward.”

“Oh,” you said flatly, “why didn’t you say that?”

“You are infuriating, Scrap.”

You flinched, “don’t call me that name.”

“I will give you the address,” Crane ignored you, staring you down coldly, “however, you now owe me a favor.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” you rolled your eyes, “I ain’t doing any of your fear toxin bullshit experiments though.”

He clicked his tongue.

Edward frowned, pressing a hand to his temple. “This is unnecessary.”

Neither of you looked at him.

“I have sustained far worse.”

“Edward, you are clearly unwell,” Crane stared at him.

“It’s only a headache.”

“Do not let him drive,” Crane ignored him, focusing back on you. He gave you the address, and you nodded. You watched Crane walk back into the building, and sighed. You patted Edward on the arm.

“Get back in the car, Nigma.”

“I am telling you that I am fine,” he hissed. You rolled your eyes.

“Clearly,” you nodded, “now, go. I wanna be done with this.”

Edward once again tried to walk in a straight line, but kept on misjudging his footing. He successfully got into the car… and then immediately failed at buckling himself in.

After a moment of watching him struggle, you drove off to the address that Crane provided you. It took you to a dingy warehouse, but with all dingy warehouses, somebody’s gotta be inside.

The engine died once more, as you walked to the metal door and pounded on it.

“HEY!” You shouted, still hitting it.

“Jesus Christ, pal,” a man opened the door hissed, “can ya keep it down?”

His eyes widened when he saw you, “Oh my god, what’s the Scrap doin’ here lookin’ so banged up?”

“That’s none of your business,” you frowned, “I ain’t here for me, but that idiot in the car got banged up by the Bat. Crane recommended you.”

The man peered behind you, watching Edward yet again struggling to get out of the car.

“You just called the Riddler ‘that idiot in the car’?” His eyebrows were raised.

“It’s ‘cause he is,” you rolled your eyes. Riddler this, Riddler that. He’s still a guy who can’t get his head out of his own ass. After a few moments, Edward slowly arrived at where you two were standing. The guy narrowed his eyes at Edward, leaning in a big closer.

“Definitely got his bell rung,” he muttered. Edward sighed, exasperated and impatient.

“Can we just get this over with?” He rolled his eyes, slightly flinching at his own volume, “I would like to get out of here as soon as possible. I’ve been dragged all over Gotham by this idiot.”

Your gaze flickered to the metal barrel by the door, the temptation to throw it at him was strong. But not tonight… Maybe tomorrow.

“...Right,” the man said hesitantly, staring at you. He definitely noticed, and he definitely knows your reputation. “Let’s get you taken care of, Mr. Riddler…”

The man stepped aside, allowing Edward to walk inside. He takes a glance at you, “...I can also treat you after I’m done with him.”

“Save it,” your body is screaming. “I’ll just heal at home.”

The man shook his head, closing the door. You were left out here alone. You sighed, moving to the side of the warehouse and plopping yourself on the concrete. That Bat. A tough bastard. You looked at your torn up, calloused hands. They were trembling. You closed your eyes. He never looked rattled during the fight. He never looked worn down. He just kept going. And you? You were rattled and worn down. You gritted your teeth, slamming your fist into the concrete. The pain punished you. You looked up to the overcast sky, seeing the symbol light up against the clouds. He kept moving, like you and Edward were just a stepping stone in his night.

“I’m gonna beat that asshole,” you muttered, pulling your knees close to your chest and closing your eyes. In your mind, you replayed the fight over and over. What could have been done differently? Should you have beaten his head over with the pallet? Throw a punch instead? When did he read you? When did you lose control of the fight?

Your mind felt heavy, the cool wind lulling you to sleep.

Suddenly, the metal door creaked, snapping you awake. You stood up quickly, stumbling a bit. Shit. You didn’t mean to fall asleep.

“Now, where did that buffoon run off to?” You heard Edward’s grumbling.

“I’m here, dumbass,” you called out, your tone heavy with sleep. Edward closed the door, as you stepped out from the side to meet him. “What’d he tell you?”

“Bedrest, no driving, and no thinking for two days,” he scowled, “two whole days of wasted time!”

Edward flinched at the volume again. You laughed loudly, and he glared at you.

“You’re being obnoxiously loud again.”

“Right, right,” you rolled your eyes. You started to hobble back to his car, “come on, let’s get outta here. I’m beat.”

Edward slowly followed behind, “you’re beat? You’re not the one with the head injury.”

“Thought it was just a headache?”

“...A head injury can manifest as a headache.”

“Right…”

“Precisely.”

“...Alright, let’s see you strap yourself in again, Nigma.”