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It tastes terrible.
Lee reminds Ed to brush his teeth when she can, but sometimes she can’t, and that was the case before this little visit. And, the day before. … And the day before that. He’s not been taking great of himself in general, and looking into the mirror above the sink would either earn him Riddler’s mocking or his own too-wide grin that he wishes was a part of the hallucinations.
Oswald is, well, in Arkham. Ed’s mouth just tastes like bad hygiene and old fast food— Oswald’s tastes like death. He already has a long history of dental issues, and now he’s been eating slop that you wouldn’t feed to a pig and is lucky if he gets to rinse his mouth with barely-treated muck water from the taps. He’s also terribly dry. Ed feels less like he’s making out with someone, and more like he’s trying to provide relief from a drought.
It doesn’t stop them.
Their fingers slip trying to grip onto greasy hair, weeks worth of buildup each. Ed keeps getting hit with the tang of old blood and sweat as it rolls through Oswald’s face wound and down to their lips. Maybe some of it is the dehydration though— both of their lips are peeling, but Oswald’s are much worse.
“This is the worst kiss ever,” he mumbles into Oswald’s mouth.
“I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Oswald breaths.
“I do. It sucks.”
Oswald laughs, shaky and possibly delirious. Ed’s hate dissolved the moment Oswald threatened to wipe his smile off with a chainsaw— well, it dissolved in the moment after, when Ed grabbed him and dragged him over the table and smashed their lips together.
“Is the new warden experimenting on people too?”
“Jerome’s more in charge than the warden.”
Ed pulls back. “Jerome? Valeska?”
Oswald leans forward again, trying to chase the god-awful kiss. “Apparently he’s a fan.” Oswald huffs as Ed pushes him back. “As you’re very aware, meeting fans never ends well for me.”
“Never ends— me? I healed you!”
“Yes. And moments ago, you were laughing at my suffering! Maybe you two should meet— you have that and obnoxious showmanship in common.”
Ed licks his lips just to see Oswald get jealous of him having saliva. It works. “Is he trying to be your friend too?”
Oswald gives Ed a withering look. He gestures to his gashed-open cheek.
“... I can get you out.”
Oswald cups Ed’s face, looking into his eyes with so much unconditional love and disheartening pity that Ed wants to cry for every reason possible. “No, Ed, you can’t. But it’s strengthening to—”
“He can.”
They both freeze. Ed’s heart is in his throat.
“Do you mean…”
“No. Yes. … He’s been trying to kill Lee.”
Oswald’s hand falls away. “ Right. You’re. Together.”
“Not really. Even before this. I— she won’t be happy but I don’t think she’ll grieve.” Ed swallows. “I can’t stop him from doing things while I’m asleep. But I could try to… make a deal, or something. He’s a better match now anyway—”
Oswald yanks Ed in for another kiss. It’s worse than before because now Ed’s mouth is dry too. He never wants it to end.
Oswald pulls back. “I don’t care. Both of you, one of you, both of you as one— whatever arrangement will have me.”
“That’s… so desperate.”
“And what you’re doing with Lee isn’t?”
“... Give me five minutes.”
Oswald gestures around the locked room. “You don’t need to request that, Ed.”
“Right.” He turns, and there’s a guard who’s even less interested in the threat-to-makeout session than Ed is in the man himself. “Bathroom break?”
“Piss on the floor.”
“You’ll probably have to mop it up.”
“We don’t mop.”
Ed reaches through the bars and smacks him. The guard rolls his eyes, and opens the door just barely enough for Ed to squeeze through. Ed considers bringing Oswald with him, but trying to get through the gap would be hell on his bad leg.
Ed rushes to the bathroom and looks into the mirror, expecting a smug smile and resistance—
Riddler is utterly disheveled. Red-faced, swollen lips, hazy eyes…
“I know that was terrible for you,” he says, “But god. The mental effect was…”
Ed feels like he shouldn’t see this, somehow. He clears his throat. “Does that mean I don’t have to convince you to help?”
“I was planning on breaking him out anyway. Also— check your breast pocket.”
Ed pats it, and pulls out a tin of mint gum. He gives his reflection an unamused look.
Riddler grins, swaying a bit. “It’s my payment. Oh, and there’s a flask of plain water in your pants pocket. Right side— yeah.”
“You said your experience was better than mine already.”
“But don’t you want to try it again, a little improved?”
Ed quickly pops a piece of gum in his mouth and dashes out of the bathroom, Riddler’s mocking yet giddy laughter following him all the way back to round two.