bakerstreet | Suddenly!

[ deep cover marriage??? ]

[ Character is 17, but can be aged up to 18. ]

[ AU, arranged, etc ]

[ Au works the best. ]

[It had been sudden. An arrest gone well, a night that he and Bruce hadn't been at each other's throat almost at all. It had felt a little like old times, back when flying with Bruce's hand on his line had been reassuring instead of stifling. He'd bounced out of the Batmobile with a flip kick and a few fake jabs at Alfred, laughing as the butler only eyed him, amusement clear in pale eyes if one knew where to look for it.

Bruce had killed his good mood with five words, gruff and severe and Batman in every syllable.

'I'm assigning him to you.'

He'd argued. Alfred had argued. Gordon had argued. Hell, even Dick had argued, though it hadn't lasted long beyond Bruce's gruff 'She can't marry you and bite him. Are you both going to finally prioritize duty?'. Dick hadn't stuck around after that and Jason...well, Jason couldn't blame him, but he could hate him for it. Not that it changed anything.

There was no ceremony in a traditional sense. No softly spoken vows or gentle lips before the pain of teeth. Not even hormones to help ease some of the pain in the heat of the moment. Just a room with far too many people to witness the arrangement and an angry hissing in his ears as he broke the skin.

The hiss never really stopped, either. Not when Jason apologized. Not when he and Bruce ended up at each other's throats. Not when they'd been given the keys to a penthouse neither of them had seen before and Jason had let his new mate claim the bedroom for himself while he made a small den on the couch. Not even when Jason had stood still while Edward had locked angry eyes with Bruce and sank vicious teeth into Jason's throat.

It probably hadn't even stopped when he'd died, if he were honest with himself. And, if that honesty were to continue, Jason didn't really blame him. He certainly hadn't expected anything to change. Still, the first night that he was back in Gotham a dark purple flower had appeared on the windowsill of Edward's bedroom. Another a few months later. Another on the eve of what would be their anniversary. More followed, always on dates that held significance, always with just the slightest scent of the alpha that Jason had grown into being. Something spiced and citrus-y combined with a bit of smoke and gun oil.

It was no different that night, either. Well, save for the location. And the fact that Edward might get a few whistles from the surrounding cells if anyone else caught sight of the bloom sitting on his pillow.]

[There had been warning signs before it happened. Rumours and chatter about yet another new plan to corral some of the problematic Arkham elements. There was always someone with a plan that this time, this time would work to keep them from upsetting the delicate sensibilities of the Gotham citizenry. This one had admittedly been more likely to succeed than most. It was impressive in its pragmatism, but given it would mean a sacrifice for some poor, upstanding alpha, he'd disregarded it as unlikely to go anywhere.

But the talk had persisted. Never enough solid details to have him on edge, but a background element longer than Edward had expected it to last. Until, without warning from anywhere in his network of informants, he was dragged before witnesses, the Bat- and Robin. The memory was still sharp, infuriating every time he recalled his helplessness then and in the days that followed. Even knowing it could have been worse did nothing to soothe his fury, and if he could have in those first days, he would have burned all of Gotham to the ground as payback.

By the time it was an option when he was left in wonderful peace in the penthouse, grateful to the Joker for once, his ire had cooled. The situation had gone from intolerable to fortuitous. He had a rare freedom, unable to be thrown to another alpha, and he revelled in it and in every opportunity to twist a metaphorical knife between the Bat's ribs with reminders.

Edward had thought that was the end of it, that he'd never have to think of his short-lived mate again - until he was drawn to a cemetery late one night. And then he'd thought himself finally free when the comatose should-be corpse vanished. Surely that was the end of it and now he could put it behind him for good.

Then the first flower appeared. New rumours started up, and he watched this newcomer Red Hood carve out a spot in Gotham from a wary distance. The flowers kept coming to his consternation. He ignored them as long as possible, but now it was getting to be too much.

His teeth gritted at the sight awaiting him when he was escorted back to his cell at the end of another miserable day in Arkham. Sneering across the hall at Zsasz, he ignored the rest of them, swiping the thing to the floor and crushing it under his heel. The scent was harder to ignore as he usually did with the contained air of the cell - all of them designed not to let anything leak in or out unfiltered, the guards well aware of how many inmates were skilled at producing toxic gases - and it caught at something inside him that he stomped down like he had the blossom.

This was getting to be too much. It needed to be dealt with and soon.

Escaping took a few days to arrange. He needed the right guards to be on duty, the right timing if he didn't want one of his fellows to see him in the act and sound the alarm out of spite. But it was just another puzzle in the end, and once the pieces were arranged correctly, he walked out of the delivery dock and to the car hidden just beyond the perimeter like it was nothing. Getting back to Gotham proper, he dumped the car and returned to his home, the penthouse a welcome relief after Arkham. If he were handling this problem, he'd do it in his own clothes, feeling and smelling like himself again, not reeking of institutionalisation.

It was a few more days before he acted. Edward had planned for how to draw the vigilante's attention, what to do once he had it, how the encounter might go. He'd lingered over each element, checking every detail over obsessively until he realised he was stalling. He was... afraid. What if he'd miscalculated and he lost his freedom again? He wouldn't be kept as an obedient, leashed mate by anyone; the idea was intolerable. But ignoring the situation clearly wasn't going to keep working. Better to control what came next, make it happen on his terms, not the alpha's.

He forced himself to send the message before he could put it off any longer. A puzzlebox left in one of Red Hood's drop points, a simple card with a cypher within. Once solved, the string of numbers would be recognisable as coordinates followed by a date and a time. A simple office for rent in Coventry, late at night. He was there early, working through a book of cryptic crosswords to hide the tension drawing him tight at the prospect of the upcoming meeting. One eye firmly on the screen of his phone, awaiting a ping from the many sensors he'd planted about to avoid being caught off-guard. After tonight the matter would be sorted and then he'd never need think of]

Edited 2024-02-04 03:15 (UTC)

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