A bunch of indulgent one shots

Scriddler I guess

Neither of them know what they're doing, and neither of them will admit they're doing anything. Maybe they're scared of saying anything. Scared. How Ironic.
Edward Nigma, the man who's come from absolute crap, who's only means of survival were the puzzles and mysteries and riddles he clings onto with a death grip. And now he still refuses to let go, despite the fact that maybe he should. He holds on to believing he's the smartest person in the world, he holds on to believing he has to do this. Even when things change. At first... He and the others were just... Mostly goofing off. Sure, some stole things, but mostly some asshole dressed like a bat tried to tell them what they couldn't do and they all decided to step up and make some noise. He remembers the old bar meets him and some of the others would go to, not to plot against Batman but to just have someone to be around.
He doesn't know where they went. Egg head, Bookworm, all the other ones themed in ways he always felt were *just a little bit* cheesier than he is. He hopes they're living happy, normal lives, as boring as that sounds.
Sometimes it does't sound that boring. Sometimes he thinks about how much times have changed. They carry real guns now, not trick ones. People die now. And it's just seen as normal life for Gotham. Was the city always like this...? Did he forget to look closely enough back then, in the early days?
Edward Nigma, the man who prides himself on being too smart for fear, is cowering in the shadow of telling the truth. Ironic, isn't it? The truth he fears so much, for the one who uses fear. Maybe he's using Ed's fear. Maybe he'd let him.

There's soft, coppery hair between his fingertips. A resting head against his stomach. A tv playing some show full of farms and animals, turned down low so no one can really hear anything more than background noise. Sunlight lightly filtering in, hitting dust in the air. Birds chirping outside. Even breathing from the one he's holding. But nothing stands out more to Ed than the fact that he probably shouldn't be here.
He doesn't sleep if Ed doesn't force him to. He comes here every night just to force him to, because Ed feels like he needs him. But Edward Nigma is a smart man, so he's honest with himself. Jonathan Crane doesn't need him at all. And it's pathetic, Ed thinks, that he's become so... attached... to Crane. God, he can't even think Jon's name without heat on his cheeks, a skipping beat in his heart like a record that refuses to play right.
He can't help but feel like he's utterly pathetic.

It's not like they aren't friends. At least, Ed thinks they're friends. He doesn't complain that much when Ed comes into his home late at night or early in the morning, trying to convince him to take care of himself. But he makes all these sarcastic little quips, jabs at Ed's ego, and Ed isn't sure if they're friends or if Jon's too polite to tell Ed he hates him. No one expects the Scarecrow to be polite, and yet Jon Crane always tries to be, even through thrown insults and glaring eyes.
Ed thinks about it a lot, how much Crane has helped him. He'll never admit it out loud, but Ed knows sometimes he needs to be taken down a peg or two. And Jon always grounds him.
Ed wonders if he's ever helped Jon this much, or if all he's doing is leeching whatever good is left within a man just as broken, just as troubled as he is. If that's the case... Ed would never forgive himself.

Jon stirs in his sleep, eyebrows knitting together even tighter. Ed's heard before, in books and the like, how much people adore seeing the person that matters most so at ease when sleeping. Sadly, Nigma doesn't know the feeling. Jonathan Crane is never at ease, and it worries Ed to no end, despite the fact it's yet another thing he won't ever mention.
Just like he'll never mention how much he cant stop thinking about how perfectly Jon's glasses sit on his face, or the way his eyes look like raw citrine when the light hits them just right, or the way his heart implodes every time he sees a real smile or hears a real laugh from him. Or that he's noticed the small, subtle dimples when he does smile, or make a face. The little moles under his eyes, on his nose, on his lips. The way his hair stands up like it's full of static when he first wakes up. The look he gets when he's concentrating, and how much it stops Ed's heart when he bites his lip making that face full of intent, concentration, care. Or how much it feels like his heart is ripping to shreds every time he realizes he only sees care in Jon's eyes when he's working on his experiments.
Maybe he's just keeping Ed around because he misses being a psychologist and picking people apart. Maybe he's just keeping Ed around because he's laughing at how pathetic he is.
Ed doesn't care what the reason is, he'd let him do whatever cruel thing he pleases. He just wants to keep being here. With him. For him.

Edward Nigma, the man currently sitting on Jonathan Crane's sofa, trying to keep him asleep, trying to soothe him... is scared to tell Jon he thinks he could possibly be in love with him, and he hates himself for it.