Scarecrow x Riddler Slash
All characters belong to DC comics.
It was an odd word to him. It didn't fall well from his tongue and was uncomfortable passing through his thoughts.
He knew what it meant of course. Want, to desire, to crave, to wish for. His vocabulary was far from limited, wants were simply not something he experienced often. Needs were important, he was required to sleep, it was necessary to eat, and he had to continue his research at all costs. Those were all simply the compulsions of living life.
Wants were frivolous and foolish.
The opposite of fear, and fear was all the Scarecrow cared about.
So Jonathan Crane did not bother himself with such things. Perhaps that was why someone so consumed with want caught his eye.
"For want of a nail, a shoe was lost."
The Nursery rhyme, barely whispered, echoed off the concrete walls like the words of ghosts . The yellow eyes of a predator trailed the new inmate as he was lead down the hall. Green fabric was washed out by florescent lights, causing it to look sickly. The occasional question mark patterned cut through like a pox, pealing away where they had been abused by a certain vigilante
Edward Nygma. It wasn't his first stay in the Asylum, it wouldn't be his last. Jonathan knew him, had studied him, as he did all of his "patients" in this facility. But Nygma peeked his interests, the sheer number of fears the man had was fascinating. Such an obvious shell of arrogance guarding the fragile core of self-consciousness and loathing. The easiest mark he'd ever faced, chemical methods wouldn't even be required. With just a few choice words he could send the great Riddler crumbling into oblivion and leave his sobbing husk of a body curled up in the corner.
Yes, easy, far too easy. He had something more entertaining in mind.
He could string him along like a toy, draw out every fear and doubt one by one. Days, months of study were entering is layer. His fingers twitched in rare excitement, subconsciously reaching for his long confiscated fear gas canisters. Yes, this would suffice for a distraction while he worked out another escape plan.
The only concern now was how to get close to Edward. Mess Hall seemed a good place to start, then Activities. The man was so starved for attention it wouldn't take much...
The groan of his cell door broke his thoughts. A quick mental review of the last few days didn't reveal anything worth punishment, at least not anything the staff knew about. But instead of being dragged out by barely legal force for sanction, it seemed they were here to deliver him a gift.
By the outcry of intellectual offenses and the following indignant slam of the door it was to be assumed that Edward Nygma was his new cellmate.
For want of a shoe a horse was lost.
Forming a connection with his new patient was simple. It seemed Edward already had some per-conceived respect for him. The younger man practicably attached himself to his lanky form, and might have if he wasn't constantly being pushed away arm's length when he got too close (research required work but he wasn't about to put up with such things.) None of this the Riddler would admit to openly of course, but the pompous mask he wore might as well been glass. It didn't take much to draw the man in, even for someone as socially estranged as Jonathan was. A vague compliment, occasionally answering one of his constant riddles, playing his little games. Soon he had him wrapped around his thin fingers.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
And with the others trust now in his hand he began to twist. It was simple, he would mention his father in passing, throw a half-hearted insult into the conversation, a look, or simply the lack of one. That seemed to work the most efficiently, simply ignoring him. Each action chipped away at the others mind, soon he was have night terrors, speaking less, but it was the occasional twitch though that gave the professor a thrill. He could see the dulling in those sharp green eyes day by day.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
Time and his patience eventually began to wane, much like Edward's mentality. It was the night, exactly two months and a week since he first set his eyes on his new patient. The self control he implemented had been agonizing, something akin to what an alcoholic must deal with living above a bar. Thankfully he was not a weak man, and the final tragic meltdown his cell mate was about to endure should more then make up for the wait.
"Jon, are to listening to me?" Green eyes beamed in the dim exhaust florescents. Lights out had been called hours ago. The usual din of screams echoing back on warped minds had died down thanks to the haze of sedatives that now seemed to float around their feet like fog.
"Of course Edward." he wasn't listening, not in the least. Oh some times he did, Edward had enough sense to notice if he simply fabricated every answer he gave him. Besides it was necessary to know one's patients, even those as transparent as the Riddler.
Still, with all the silent grumbling he'd been doing, the time they'd spent incarcerated was entertaining. Out of the drooling, barking peanut gallery that was Arkham Edward Nygma was the most capable of the lot. Not all of his bluster was talk and his mind was an interesting one to pick. Even his attention driven dramatic flare for every little thing was amusing, the seconds before it became annoying. If he was still capable of emotion he might have smiled.
But his fear, the doubt beyond those eyes, the faint thrill when he voice cracked, that's was what he wanted. It was his fear that burned deep in his stomach, a hunger for more.
The last question, or perhaps the better term would be riddle, was how to break him? The choices in method were abounding. Should he use his issues with his father? Or perhaps his inferiority complex with the Bat? Torture him with his own compulsions? Force him to face his own mediocrity? He could force a hundred phobias on him all at once. Whatever he decided it wasn't important, the end was. The end of the mind of Edward Nygma, and the sight of him while he crumbled, riving on the ground, breath forcing itself out of his lungs, body contorted into unimaginable-
The former professor blinked, it wasn't professional zoning out like that. Edward had managed to get both of his hands on either side of him, planted firmly in the sheets of his issued mattress This brought them closer then he would have preferred, also unprofessional, but he was used to his cell mate's theatrics and let it be.
"What is your answer?"
Edward's voice was strangely serious, far from its usual air of wit and demeaning sarcasm. Whatever was on his mind was important, but everything on his mind tended to be important to him.
With a sigh Jonathan gave in and nodded to what he had been asked. Most likely some riddle or puzzle he would be forced to complete just to get his cell mate to give him some peace.
A sudden softness washed over the others face, almost bliss really, causing Jon to raise a curious eyebrow. Then again, the higher his mood, the harder it would crash.
Jonathan Crane opened his mouth to speak but via the usual turn of events between then Edward interrupted him. However this time it was with his own.
For want of a battle the war was lost
What was this? The experiment was simple, controlled. How could it had gone awry? When did he miss this variable? He had studied the man inside and out, he knew his past and present, his wants, his
ambitions, his fears...
Perhaps he should have paid a bit more attention to his sexuality...
No, no, it still didn't add up. Besides paying attention to the man he treated his with indifference, even disdain, like he did everyone. In fact, in spending so much time together, he might have treated him the worst of the lot. Facing Batman meant they were all gluttons for punishment, he hadn't realized Edward had a fetish for it.
While Jonathan's mind was sifting through the data of the past two months, trying to find at what point this bizarre turn had begin, his cell mate was shifting himself onto his lap. The pressure and heat of the others body against his own brought a disturbing realization: that burning of anticipation that sat in his stomach, the excitement for the conclusion of his experiment, was still there and getting stronger... and traveling lower.
Edward was still on him and had yet to detach his lips from his own since the kiss had begun. Small gasps of breath were taken between two open mouths, with whispered words of "Jon" filling the now deathly silent cell. The quiet made the obnoxiously wet sounds all the louder, and even worse it made him face the fact that he was contributing to this nonsense. He wasn't sure when he began responding, at first he told himself it was a simple primal reaction from one of the baser part of his brain, but he knew it was a lie. He wasn't an idiot and neither was Edward, they were fully aware of fully aware of what they were doing.
And he was aware, as he sank his fingers in the hips hidden by the others Arkham jump suite, that the burning inside him was something more then scientific curiosity. At some point the annoying little man had worked his way under his skin, a place where few had managed to venture. As he lowered the smaller villain onto the bed he allowed himself a rare smile at the irony of it all. This is what happened when they followed their desires.
"And all for want of a nail..."
"What?" Edward more breathed then spoke below him.
If I feel inspired and people want to read it I might consider writing a second half of this from Riddler's point of view.