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Chapter Text

Digger Harkness wipes the sweat from his brow and props the broom next to the door frame. Humidity clings to his tongue, causing it to stick to the roof of his mouth. The warm mid summer breeze has been bringing in sand and soot into his store for a week straight. He has been meaning to invest in a door but other things have been needing his money more. He looks out towards the road. Australia is sleeping under a deep blue sky that twinkles with starlights. It was about time for Digger to hit the hay as well and possibly yell at the next potential customer for coming in during his closing. 

He peels his damp shirt off of his belly and pulls up his pants. He tosses his cigarette into the ashtray before making his way over to his big neon sign inviting anyone driving by to come on through. He had the money to call an electrician to reroute the power supply to his store so he did not have to walk all the way out to the road to turn the signs off. Again, his money needed to go elsewhere. 

He stops when he sees headlights inching… inching? He adjusts his cowboy hat and squints.

“That bloke pushin’ his car?” He wonders aloud. “Poor bastard.”

He glances at the switch. He feels a terrible dark cloud hover over him.

“He’s prolly broke too, Digger. What’s he gonna do for you except make trouble…?” He stares at the rusted piece of metal for a moment longer. “Dammit.”

He flips the sign off and then runs over to the stranger.

“Oi! You right, mate?!”

The stranger pauses and looks up. “Oh, hi! Do you have a phone that has service? I need to call a tow truck.”

An American? Digger eyes him curiously. “I’ll do ya one better, mate. I can fix ya car. ‘Ere, you keep turnin’ the wheel and I’ll push on this side.”

“Oh my god, thank you!” The man laughs breathlessly.

Digger helps the stranger eventually get his vehicle off the road, onto the dirt, and into his workshop next to his store. Now that Digger has a better look at the American, he notices his very dapper attire with the green suit and purple tie and also green bowler hat. A suit during the heat of Oz? Mate might have a death wish. Right now, the suit is doubled over and panting. He's sweating buckets to boot.

Digger grabs a water bottle from his workbench and hands it to him. "'Ere. It ain't too cold."

The American takes it with a wheezy thank you and downs it slowly. His Adam's apple bobs in gradual rhythm. The harsh overhead bulbs highlight the sheen of sweat on his neck. Digger's tongue rolls over his teeth.

"Thank you" He heaves, "I was... pushing for almost an hour."

"Bloody oath, why didn't ya call a tow then?"

"I'm afraid I lost service, unfortunately."

"Damn, ran outta luck didja? I see you got a flat too. I'm kinda outta gas right now and they said they would come by first thing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The American deflates, rubbing his oily face with a handkerchief. 

"Sorry, mate, whatever business ya had, you're prolly gonna miss it."

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten a damn rental!" He kicks the tire. "It was either this piece of junk or a hot bus."

"Yeah, I woulda chosen the rental too. Is it just the gas and the flat?"

"No, there is something wrong with the engine. I'm unable to come up with a diagnoses."

"Lemme take a gander." He flips the hood open and talks as he works. "So, yer American, right? Where from? Whatcha doin' in Oz?"

"I originate from New Jersey. I came here to Australia on personal business."

"Oooohohoho! Personal, aye? Guess thats one way of tellin' me to stuff it."

He waves his hands in defense. "Nothing so harsh, I assure you!"

"I ain't offended, mate. Just teasin' ya. You know, I got a computer in me store. If yer mates are waitin' for ya, you can email them."

"Oh? Thank you, but are you sure?"

"I mean, the worst yer gonna see on that computer is how in debt I am." Digger chuckles.

"You're in debt?"

"Yeah, no thanks to me step-dad. He's the reason I got this place."

The American looks at him strangely as he brings out his wallet. "Hmm, how much will I owe you?"

"Ehh, not much, it's twenty for the tire and maybe a seventy for the engine. It's pretty fucked lookin'."

"You don't work hourly?"

"Huh? Nahhh, I pay me-self with what's left over after I restock."

"Really? You manage this entire building by yourself?"

"It ain't that bad, mate. Sure, gets lonely but I'm used to it."

"Hmm..." The suit flips through his billfold and hands Digger a wad of hundreds. "Would this help your debt?"

"Awh, you tippin' Digger?" He looks up and his face drops. It's American dollars and Digger has never been the best with converting.

"It's five hundred. However, in your Australian dollars, it should come up to around seven hundred and fifty with some change."

He gawks, dumbfounded. He knew the suit was sketchy from the moment he saw him. No one these days walks around with twenties and fifties in their pockets for fun anymore, unless clubbing or back alley drugs were involved. He slowly takes the wad of cash from him and laughs awkwardly. "You ain't an angel in disguise, are ya?"

The American chuckles, beaming those perfect pearly white teeth at him. "I'm no angel. I am going to go ahead and use that computer."

"Yeah, no problem." Digger watches the stranger leave and he looks down at the bills. He takes one and holds it up to the light, one by one. So far, each one of them are the real deal. "Weird, that. Suit's gonna give me trouble." He pockets the money and resumes his work. "It's always the sexy ones that are dangerous..."

"Your name is Digger, yes?" The American asks once he returns.

"Huh?" Digger removes himself from the hood and looks over to see the stranger leaning against his workbench with his arms cross and a glean in his eye. Digger feels his heart pump faster. He wasn't sure if this guy was thinking about stabbing him or fucking him. Regardless, that gaze was exciting Digger. "Yeah, you got a name, mate? Or are you one of 'em mysterious nameless strangers that cuts and runs after rootin' a sheila?"

His brows go up and he gives him a weird smile with narrowed eyes. "Edward."

"Well, pleasure, Eddy." He turns back to the car, but keeps his ears open. "Can't say I've seen blokes like you 'round 'ere. Yanks don't drive out this far."

"No? Do you get much traffic out here?"

"I do, yea. It ain't much, but I make it work."

"You mentioned your step-father, yes? Why isn't he helping you?"

Digger scoffs, "That bastard can't even wipe his own ass right. Passed this debt and this shithole down to me because his real son is out there with a real job, not just makin' ends meet with some dirty work and gettin' arrested sometimes like me."

"Why haven't you left?"

"Where would I go, huh? I don't know how things work in the states, love, but down under they come aftah you if you try to run away from what you owe."

"And your... step-brother, I assume, won't help you either?"

"Why should he?" Digger is not sure why he is answering these personal questions that this strange American man could probably use against him somehow. Part of him didn't care if something happened to the worse half of the Harknesses if this Edward tried anything. "He's got some fancy ass job upside. Why would he work in retail with a felon, aye?"

"Are you a murderer, Digger?"

Fair question to ask a weird Aussie who is a bit too open to talk about himself. He blames the loneliness. "Ehhh, some aggravated assaults, but nothin' close to murder. Used to rob banks as a teenager with a mate. Haven't seen him in a while, though. Doubt he remembers me."

"How long have you owned this gas station?"

"A decade. Debt was much bigger back then too."

"A whole decade by yourself... sounds akin to prison life."

"Kinda is, yeah. Not done servin' me sentence, though... Y'know, Eddy, since I'm gettin' gas tomorrow, why dontcha use me trailer and get some shut eye?"

Edward pauses, seemingly surprised at his generosity. "Really?"

"Yeah. Mean, it ain't a five star motel like you're probably used to."

"Still, that is kind, but where would you sleep?"

Digger shrugs. "I've taken naps in the garage before. Ain't that bad. I've slept everywhere. The warehouse, the dunny, the store, the cars I'm workin' on... My trailer's also got air conditioning if that sweetens it for you. Can't promise it might work tonight though, you might have to give it a wack."

"I cannot help but feel a bit-"

"Nahhh, Eddy, don't feel bad. Guests get the bests as they say."

He relents. "Alright, can you walk me there?"

"Oh, yeah, righto, this way to your suite, sir." His heart skips a beat at Edward's giggle. Digger leads him across the sand, behind the car wash, to his humble trailer. "And here's your lovely room, a beaut ain't she? She's a one bed, one bath studio apartment built in 2014. Not real sure about the square kilometers of it but it's decent size for one man. It's got a nice kitchen with appliances that has the eighties callin' me." He grins bigger hearing Edward laugh again. "And maybe don't look too closely at the stains on the couch. A possum got in there and I haven't cleaned it up yet but there's no smell! And if you do smell somethin' off, it's the AC. Also, if you ignore the water damage in the bath, you can have all this for the price of free!"

"What a steal." Edward teases back.

"Yeah, it ain't much but it's livin'."

"Am I the first person you've brought to your... dilapidated abode, Digger?"

"Yeah, first and only. Maybe yer luck's turnin' around for ya, aye?"

"Perhaps it has." Edward looks him up and down again and Digger blushes. He knows that look. He has given that look to himself in the mirror, to pretty women who came in, and rugged men looking for a quickie. His saliva is caught in his throat when the American lightly feels his arm. "Alone in the middle of nowhere for ten years. You know, people who man lighthouses go stir crazy much faster than that."

Digger clears his throat. "Got used to the loneliness, I guess?"

"And what would you do if this loneliness took a break for the night?"

He swallows. His arms feel heavy. "Might, uh, start goin' crazy after."

"Ah, yes, I suppose so." He squeezes his bicep and pulls away. "We can't have that, can we?" Edward leaves his side and heads inside the trailer. "Good night, Digger." He closes the door.

His neck may as well be on fire. He sharply turns around and stomps back to his workshop, kicking rocks as he goes. "You stupid bloody bogan! You fucked it up for yerself! You had it! Where'd that charm go, Digger?! What, you got shy cuz a handsome man was feelin' up yer arm?? You dumb bike... this is why yer out here, Digger, wit nothin' but ya self."

After the delivery truck arrived the following morning, Digger pushes Edward's now fixed rental to the pumps and fills it up himself. He yawns wide and rubs his eyes. He didn't get much sleep. He kept debating on breaking the car further so Edward would stay longer, but that is not exactly sexy and attractive, is it? That's the desperation and the decade of solitude talking. The space where Edward placed his hand on him throbbed all night. He rubs his face again. There was no way for him to keep his mind from thinking about last night's flub. He was hard on himself. He craves to be touched. He is tired of wasting his life away here.

He didn't want to die here, alone.

"You're filling up my car." Edward walks up to his side. "Thank you. How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house, love." He replies, candidly, "You don't owe me a thing. Just, you know, tryna help ya on yer way."

"I appreciate it, Digger. Although, I still owed to you."

"Nahh, not at all." Digger flicks the lever and places the pump back into it's hold.

"You don't hold last night against me?"

His ears grow hot. Digger turns and smiles bashfully, "You don't owe me like that, Eddy!"

He stops breathing when Edward puts a cold hand on his cheek. It is brief, lasting too soon as if Edward changed his mind. His fingers caress his beard as he pulls his hand away. “You may want to check your computer if you haven’t yet.”

“What? What did ya do it?" Before he could stop him, Edward is inside his car and starting the engine. His chest tightens. "Wait, Edward...!”

“Perhaps one day we’ll see each other again under different circumstances." He offers him a knowing smile. "I believe that chance to be fifteen out of twenty, depending on what path you decide to follow. Until then, take care and stay out of prison for me, Digger."

Digger watches helplessly as Edward drives away, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. He did not mourn his loss too long when he remembered that Edward spoke about his computer. He hurries inside and shakes the mouse to see that his entire debt is wiped clean, fully paid for. He then hears the phone ringing from the booth outside. It's Ian, no doubt ready to scream at him for somehow paying everything off. Digger knew Edward was going to give him trouble.

"'Ey!" A local yells at him from the door. "Would ya hurry up and pump me gas, mate?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be a minute..." He clicks off the tab and back on to make sure that that zero was still there.

"Don't got all day here! I'm in a hurry."

"So am I..." Determined, Digger meanders outside and gives the man his costumer service smile. As the gas reaches to the line, Digger stops it and gawks. "Shit, mate, did you know you had a big ol' scratch here?"

"Awh fuckin' hell, do I?" The man runs around his car and bends down. "Where'd'ya see it?"

"Right here-!" Digger whacks the nozzle into his skull and the poor man crumbles to the ground. "Sorry, mate, but I need a car."  He throws the nozzle aside and gets into the vehicle. "I ain't spendin' another damn second in this dump. And I'm NOT fuckin' this up for me again. Which way did he turn? Left? We go left..." Digger turns onto the road and slams on the gas.

Chapter Text

“Boomerang, seriously, you don’t owe me.”

“I bloody well do. Look mate, we got this thing between us and I know if I was you, I’d be gloatin’ bout how you owe me for savin’ yer sorry hide. All this hangin’ over me head. I don’t appreciate you tryna be nice about it.”

It's not me being nice. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I don’t like bein’ pitied. We both know you think you’re better than all of us, ‘specially me. I get it, I’ll nevah owe you. But at least gimme a chance to try!”

Deadshot sighs deeply. Digger feeling obligated in this manner is going to cause him to make mistakes that will get him killed. He hates that his stupid Aussie’s insecurities has fallen onto him– God, he is still yammering on.

“Fine. You know how you can owe me? By shutting up for an entire day, that’s how.”

“Nahhh. You ain’t winnin’ like that, Floyd. Cuz if I do that for you, then everyone thinks they can silence Digger. I ain’t givin’ anyone that edge.”

There has got to be a way to shut him up. He has an idea but he knows neither of them are going to like it and Deadshot is exhausted enough to try it. See if Boomer and that tension between them holds any water.

“What, you gonna punch me now? That ain’t gonna get us even either…” Digger winces and raises his hands to block his face as Lawton gets closer. “Why ain’t ya talkin’ anymore? What’s goin’ on? What are ya…?”

Floyd traps Harkness by obstructing his only exit with his body. He leans down and places his hands on the arms of the chair. Boomer gawks at him with his big shifty green eyes that occasionally glance down at his lips. Seeing how shy and quiet Digger becomes at the closed space, Deadshot nearly considers him cute… for a jackass. The mouse running in a wheel must be doing overtime on that light bulb in Harkness’s brain as he tries to figure out his intention.

“Shit…” He finally says. “This is how you want us even…?”

Floyd raises a brow and tilts his head to let him know that it is completely up to him to accept the offer. Words seem to fail him right now as he is looking a little too close at Boomerang. He didn’t notice the freckles that spread across his forehead to his eyes.

Digger does not even seem uncomfortable by the concept of kissing him. He props himself up in his chair, gazing at him through half-lids. It is surprisingly gentle, chaste and too short, as if he is scared to press his luck.

Lawton smirks, finding himself liking this side of Digger. “That the best you can do?”

His mouth drops first before he grins, “Ohohooo, you want the Digger special, do ya? Go on then, Floyd.” He pats his thighs and wiggles his brows.

Deadshot rolls his eyes and scoffs but humors the Aussie by sitting on his lap. He can definitely feel his excitement under him before being distracted by his mouth. With Digger’s lack of experience, he makes up for it in passion. Floyd can hear how loud Harkness’ heart is. Nerves must be eating him alive as he tries to stay as composed as he can. Lawton decides to test the waters. He slides his hands up over his chest, earning him a small whine, and cradles his face. Stroking his beard with his thumb, Boomerang slumps instantly. His lips loosely hang open as he softly moans.

Goddammit, he is cute.

Chapter Text

"God look at you... how is that comfortable, Eddy? ... You work so hard, dont you?" His heart feels full looking at him. "You should be sleepin' in a bed, love. Digger will tug ya in."

Digger cannot help himself but kiss his forehead before carefully putting his arms under Edward and lifting him from the couch. He stops when his advisor stirs and softly groans in his sleep. Harkness lets him cuddle into his chest and he feels ten times warmer when Edward sighs in content and puts a hand on his pec. He feels dizzy, his legs weak. He knows God wont listen to him but he is looking up to heaven anyway praying that Edward does NOT wake up right now. When he looks down, he sees the man is still asleep and worst of all, absolutely adorable in his arms.

"Eddy... Fuck's sake youve got no idea what you do to me, you know that? The hell you smilin' like that for, huh? You that happy you're in Digger's arms? That's too good to be true, that." He kisses his head and melts when Edward hums in his sleep. "You're too bloody cute. You should wear your hair down more often."

He carries him into his father's wing and gingerly sets him down, lifting the covers so his legs can glide underneath. He shouldnt. He feels like he shouldnt but he gives him one more kiss to his temple before pulling away. "Night, Ed--"

Nygma's hand surges up and snags his shirt in a vice grip. Harkness freezes.

"Eddy? You awake? Yer not aboutta punch me, are ya?"

He swallows and takes his hand. "Just gonna... ease you... like this... com'mon, Eddy... Why are ya holdin' me so tight? Lemme gooooo... lemme goo.... let--'ere... there it is." He chuckles nervously, their hands now clasped. "You must be sleepin' hard, Eddy... ah shit." Now his hand is trapped in his clutches. He tries in vain to pull on each finger but this time the unconscious Edward was persistent.

"Oh god... what do I do here...? I shouldnt wake him up. He'd kill me it i did that... I'll just ah. Wait here until he lets go, I guess? How long is that gonna take... might as well sit down?"

He sits on the edge of the bed and in doing so sealed his fate. Like a baby kitten, Edward soughts out the heat source and clings to it, wrapping his arms around his waist. With his heart in his ears, Digger feel on the verge of cardiac arrest. He cannot control his breathing. His hands are hovering above his advisor, terrified of touching him. Every part of his brain is screaming at him to run. Too close to the beast's jaws. He is going to hate you when he wakes up. He will never forgive you.

Digger slowly, very slowly eases himself onto his back and Edward retaliates by holding him and pushing his head into his chest. Another contentful sigh.

"Am I taking advantage of him...?" Digger asks in fear. "He... wants me here... but what if he doesn't when he wakes up? Think Digger, I know you love him but what am I doin' here? ... Oh my god he's rubbing me leehheeehehggggssss..."

Harkness tries to pull away but Edward whines in his sleep, holds him, cuddles him.

"Fucked. I'm so fucked."

He puts a hand to his hair and Edward reacts by digging his face into Digger's neck and inhales in his scent. Harkness' breath is caught in his throat. The final straw. He wraps his arms around his small advisor as tears threaten to release.

"I love you too, Eddy... I'll stay with ya. I ain't leavin' less you let go."

So Digger remained with him before eventually falling asleep beside him.

Chapter Text

She presses a finger to his nose. Neither of them can stop laughing. Just as they are a breath away, the light turns on in Boomer’s attic and he reels back, “I don’t want Ivy killing me, Harls! The hell you doing?!”

“Oh, come on, homies kiss all the time! What?? I got Ivy’s word ages ago. She knows I got a lot of love to give. She don’t wanna restrain me.” She snickers at Harkness’ confusion. “I ain’t gonna force– even though I was kinda, well– I mean, I felt the chemistry going and we were laughinnng, gettin’ in each other’s faces… I dunno I probably assumed too much.” She starts smirking at his unyielding gaze. “Man, you make great eye contact, Digs.”

His face lights up like a traffic light. He doesn’t try to play it off or look away. He holds his stare.

She snorts again and teases him further. “You know, I woulda never took you to be polite.”

“Oi! I can be polite!”

“Yeah, you’re doing it right now.” She shuffles her knees and closes the space between them again. “But y’know, you could take a bit of initiative.” She wiggles her brows.

He giggles sheepishly.

“C’mon, you need a written invitation? I’m given’ ya permission.”

His mouth closes. She can see how his brain is working overtime to process what she said. He’s like a fuzzball of an animal seeing the world for the first time. Overly cautious and curious. He finally leans into her, their noses brushing. He doesn’t touch her, keeping his hands on either side of her for balance on the uneven cot. With him this close, she starts counting the freckles on his forehead. Not that she was impatient. No, this is adorable how he is feeling her out. His whiskers are ticklish on her skin. His lashes flutter and lightly graze her cheek. He presses gingerly into her lips. Harley smiles into it, closing her eyes. A small noise emits from the back of his throat, as if surprised at her quickness to return the gesture. His lips were soft if not kinda chapped. It started to distract her.

“Hang on.” She pulls away and crawls to the head of the mattress. She digs her hand underneath and pulls out chapstick. She applies it onto her mouth first as she waddles back over to Boomer. Harkness made a logical assumption holding his hand out, but this was Harley Quinn. She sees his hand and starts beaming mischievously. She caps the vaseline and hovers it over his open palm before tossing it over her shoulder much to his audible surprise. Then she pulls him right back into the kiss. It was as gentle as before but the shock had Digger seeing boomerangs spinning around his vision. There’s that noise again as he gains consciousness and pushes into her again. Harley can’t help giggling this time.

She wanted to squish this Australian man like a dog’s chew toy just to hear him squeak. When they part, it takes all of Harley not to submit to her cute aggression, but her hands have other plans.

She clutches and shakes his head. Harkness appropriately yelps and grasps her arms. “What’dido?!”

“You’re too damn cute!! AAAA!!! Sorry.” She lets go. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I ain’t bloody cute– awuh!” He rubs his side. “Why’d ya punch me?!”

“You can’t say that when you look like a puppy, Boomer.”

“A puppy?!” He hits his chest with his fist. “I’m a big dog!”

“Riiiiight. With your beard, you might as well be those dogs with the, uh, beard. What are those called? Shhhhnoutzers?”

“Puh-lease, I’m a bloodhound.” He smirks, “And you’re an anklebiter! A little pom-pom.”

Harley bares her teeth and snaps at the air in front of his face. Boomer instantly matches her maniac energy, growling and biting back until they both start full on barking at each other.

“Alright, that’s enough!” The guard posted outside Harley’s quarters snaps, smacking her baton into the wall twice. “Back to your cell, Harkness! It's getting close to curfew.”

The two of them groan in unison and Harley gets up from her bed and trudges over to the guard, “See ya tomorrow, Digs.”

“Uh-huh, see ya.”

The guard motions again with her baton. “I said Harkness, Quinn. This is your cell.”

“Oh yeaaaaa, I forgot. My bad, hun.” She spins around.

“Good try, Harls.” As they pass, Harley smacks Boomer on the ass.

“Waho! Easy with the bakery, love!”

Harley snorts into uncontrollable laughter and Boomer’s grin only encourages her.

Chapter Text

"Oi! Sharko... Wakey, wakey, mate. I got somethin' special for ya!" His whispering may as well still be a yell.

King Shark blinks hard. "Boomerang, what is the purpose of waking me up at this hour?"

"Use that big nose on ya, mate. What do you think I got?"

Shark looks around their cell first, at the squad who are in various degrees of soundless to noisy sleep. The only one unaccounted for is Victoria who is most likely with Nora. He then sniffs the air and looks to Digger in surprise. "Are those crabsticks?"

Boomer grins big and brings out a takeout box from behind his back. "I um, kept thinkin' about whatcha said so I went around to try to find ya some to uh... well, apologize for my mouth."

"Oh, you still feel bad for you pathological lies? I already forgive you for that, Boomerang."

"Yeah, well... Forget it, it's not a big deal." He tries, dismissing his feelings. "You said that you'd be fine spendin' an afternoon with me doin' this so..."

"It is not the afternoon, Boomerang."

"It is in Oz."

"You also promised to take me swimming."

"Yeah, um... that can come later. Come on, Shark, eat up."

Shark finally sits up with a grunt and sits cross legged. "Hmmm... You did say you were going to feed me the crabsticks... How did you get these?"

"I got my ah--Oh shit, I did, didn't I? Uhhhh..." He fishes a crabstick out and holds it out on his palm.

Shark hesitates before bending down and very cautiously uses his teeth to gently take the food without nicking his skin. Even though the Hall is dark for once, Shark can smell Digger's fluster and hear his heart racing. He briefly thinks back to what Joker said before about Boomer "obviously" crushing on him. He can smell that too. He decides against bringing it up. Harkness trusts him, likes him, and he knows how terrified he felt afterward. It was difficult not to run over and comfort him. Boomer needed his space. So, he is not going to throw that away with a question. Shark cares about him very much. He will wait until Digger is comfortable enough to confess his feelings.

"Crikey, you got some sharp chompers, aye? How'd it taste?"

"Not very fresh."

"Yeahh, did my best with what I could find."

"That is very thoughtful of you."

Boomerang's smile lifts his heart.

"Although, I think it would be best if you tossed the pieces to me instead. I would hate to bite you."

"Uhhh, y-yeahhahaha, let's do that instead."

Chapter Text

It is not that Captain Boomerang didn’t believe in love, but it certainly hasn’t found him. Hearing about the whole “soulmate” bullshit sounded like a conspiracy theory, something you would mention as a joke. It was a fairytale. The world has always been gray.

Until it happened to The Flash, he was going on television describing these marvelous colors. On this Earth, if anyone spoke about seeing colors, they were sent away to a hospital. Now that THE Flash was going on about it after he met his soulmate– suddenly, everyone was believing him. He said that the first words his soulmate would say to him were written on his palm and when he met her, his world brightened like magic.

This caused a stir in the tavern the rogues were in. Trickster immediately took off his glove to examine his hand.

Boomerang scowls. “It ain’t gonna appear on yer hand just cuz the Flash said it, mate.”

Axel returns it in kind before sticking his tongue out. “I already have something on my hand, Boomer.”

“I don’t bloody see anything.”

“Then, obviously, we’re not soulmates.”

Digger Harkness snorts, “Yeahhhh, sure, if you believe any of that.”

Before he could take a drink, he notices that the rest of the Rogues are also examining their hands, Boomerang feels a tug in his gut. He puts down his beer and pulls off both of his gloves. Nothing on his palms. He flips his hands over to see no markings on the other side either. He hears them muttering to each other.

“Mine has been counting down…” Cold states bluntly.

“I have the letters MM!” Heatwave announces, “Maybe it’s you, Marco.”

“Doubtful. My palm has the number nine.”

“I’ve got a drawing of a star, I think?” Sam frowns. “It’s crude…”

“Oh!” Axel jumps in. “Mine’s says 2024! I’m meeting them this year!

And Captain Boomerang has nothing. He slaps his fists down, rage consuming him, “Yeah, yeah, we’re all havin’ a bloody laugh! Shut up about it!”

He refuses to meet any one of their gazes. He doesn’t care if it was out of concern or irritation. He snatches his bottle from the table and stands up, leaving for the outdoors.

Everyone is a bastard, all playing the same trick on poor Digger.

The Riddler knew the only love for him was the art of riddles.

Yet Edward Nygma slowly removes his gloves by tugging each finger tip one by one, pulling it off completely at the pinkie. Neither one of his hands holds this secret key to infinite love that everyone is piping up about. Riddler hums, feeling a surprising emptiness inside him. He smacks his lips. His tongue kept tasting cheap beer. He wipes his tongue with a nearby napkin but even that does not relieve him of the flavor. The gears in his mind start spinning.

For a while, he was getting phantom pains. Throughout the day he would suddenly feel as if he was punched in the face and within the next moment his nose bleed. He had awful twinges in his back or cramps in his legs. On the rare occasion, he would get these painful dizzy spells. They were strange but most Edward chalked up to growing old and not exercising or stretching as much as he should.

Now he is tasting alcohol.

“I wonder… Could it be possible that mine is a bit more unorthodox?” He rises from his chair and heads over to his fridge. He opens a can of tea and drinks. Nope. The alcohol taste is still there. “If I’m right, my unwilling participant should be tasting green tea with ginseng and honey, but how am I to find that out for certain? Now that… is a rather challenging riddle. Perhaps, it may inspire them to make better drinking decisions.”

Digger spits out his beer all over the sidewalk and coughs. “Oh god, what the–? What…?” He thought he tasted cotton for a moment.

He gawks at the bottle, squinting to force his vision to stop doubling. “I’m maybe drunk…”

He tries again and he is not met with the flavor he is used to. He sticks his tongue out. “Why’s it tastin’ bad now…? Why’s it taste like…” He smacks and scrapes his tongue with his teeth, “Fuckin’ hell… is that TEA?! EUGH! Bloody waste of good beer…”

He tries to get the awful flavor out by wiping his fingers down his tongue.

Edward shudders. “Oh tha– that’s salty…!” He can even taste the texture, which makes his skin crawl. “It’s skin!”

An idea pops into Riddler’s head. “Perhaps, I can use this to determine who this mysterious person is… They get into fights often, they drink beer, and if that was them attempting to get the taste out of their mouth and not… that would be disgusting for me to feel that. Hopefully, they just have calloused hands…”

He pauses and starts writing down names.

“It may be unlikely to be people I already know… but searching through billions of people… no, that won’t do. I’ll start small…”

Curiosity was taking over him now. He grabs his phone and begins bringing up any forums he could find. With the Flash segment being broadcasted, dead sites are now slow with traffic. Powering through the irritation, he notices that people are using these websites to find their soulmate. Some people are trolling. Edward does not doubt that there are serial killers or worse out there using this mass hysteria of desperation to find an unsuspecting victim.

“Hmm… I suppose I too am this desperate, but this is not my typical way of solving a good riddle. There is also the possibility that my other half may not do the same. I cannot trust this to be my guide. I imagine most websites and apps are doing the same… Idiots, all of them. So desperate to find love, breaking up with their boring significant others, ending loveless marriages, traveling the world to find their match…”

Edward falls down the rabbit hole, typing into various social medias for anyone who tasted cold tea. There were matches but none of them showed anyone who was at a bar or said they were drinking alcohol at the time.

Pulling himself out of his trance, Riddler looked to the clock to see that he had wasted two hours of his life doom scrolling.

“Curious… nothing to eat or drink in that time, partner? Did you fall asleep? You’ll wake up with a hangover.”

He taps his pencil on the countertop and stares at the names he has written down. He doubts it was anyone in Gotham’s rogues gallery…

He perks up and checks their app. He does not usually go online there, except to be annoying when he is bored. He sees that he missed two calls from Catwoman. He squints and unwillingly returns her facetime call.

She answers and before she could react, Edward talks over her. “Miss Kyle, if you have been drinking tonight, you could have chosen a better alcohol.”

“What? I haven’t been drinking? Nevermind, did you do this?” She rolls up her sleeve and shows him a sentence etched into her arm.

If the day before yesterday is the 23rd, then what is the day after tomorrow?

Insulted, Edward yells, “Yours is a riddle?! How??”

“Okay, definitely not you then. Thank God. It just showed up tonight! I don't know what it–”

“The answer is the 27th. It means you’ll meet your partner on the 27th of next month, seeing that it is now the 28th.”

“Huh…”

“Yes yes that one is on the house. Now, have you been out with anyone drinking a cheap brand of beer?”

“Cheap beer? How classy. No, I haven’t.” She hangs up without a goodbye.

Edward sneers at the screen. “... She wasn't lying.”

He would take the plunge and open a chat, but with his reputation, no one is going to take him seriously. However, it seems some unlikely rogues have become a match with each other. “It may be possible.”

I can bring out the worst or the best in others when drunk. I can numb life's pains. I’ve been used as a remedy, but be careful not to drown in my embrace. What am I? He presses the post button.

He waits…

Calendar Man replies and Edward glazes over it with a sigh. “I know it’s not you, Julian… Yours was the number nine.”

Ten minutes later, Waylon responds with this emoji 🍺.

Correct, my scaly friend, I don’t suppose you’ve been drinking tonight?

He answers, 🚫

“Damn…”

Edward makes himself busy by getting ready for bed. He checks the app multiple times throughout his routine to see his post was not getting any more replies. He edits it stating that he had an awful beer taste in his mouth earlier tonight. He did not give away what he gave his recipient in turn. If anyone on there was his significant other, they would need to reveal themselves to him, not the other way around. He was not going to look like the desperate one here.

He brushes his teeth and flosses with his eyes cutting over at his phone like a teenager waiting for their crush to respond.

Even as he tucks himself into bed, he glares at the bright screen. His mind clings onto the Flash’s words, the way he described these strange colors. Edward hated not knowing. He needed to know. He had to see this world for himself.

“… Just because our soulmate is out there doesn’t mean we should… you know.” Axel softly admits, still looking at his bare hand. “I’m happy with us… Are you guys?”

Captain Boomerang does not answer. He watches the rest of the Rogues around their hideaway think. They can speak more openly about this with Cold on a beer run. He told them to not get distracted. Color was not important to their role in Central City. However, they all knew Leonard was as curious as everyone else. With Jesse not in the Rogues anymore and Walker taking his place as well as being a man in his twenties, so he is younger and less knowledgeable (and if not more or less immature) than the rest. He is not included into their somewhat vague, on some days, polycule. However, he is part of the Rogues regardless and his worries about the Rogues disbanding in search for their soulmates is valid concern for the young man.

“I do agree with you, Trickster.” Marco acknowledges him after another minute of silence. “Love comes in all forms. Who knows? It’s possible that a soulmate is not necessarily romantic.”

Mick turns to Sam who has been uncharacteristically quiet for the past few days. “Have you gone to see Lisa yet?”

“No…” He replies just above a whisper.

“Afraid that it’s not her? You’ll never know unless you find out, Samuel.” Marco comforts him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Even if it is her…” Sam sighs. “I’d want her to be awake to see all those colors.”

Axel uncomfortably kicks his legs. “Hey, I’m no doctor, but what if that does wake her up?”

“I don’t like what ifs. I want to be certain.”

“You cannot be certain of this possibility if you don’t try, Sam.” Marco offers. “Just think about it for now.”

Heat Wave finally glances over at Boomerang. “You haven’t said anything.”

Digger scowls. “All this is just a heap of bullcrap. Flasher is finally off his rocker and we’re all just eatin’ it up? We’re better than this.”

“I knew you would take Len’s side in this.” Mick mimics his glare.

“I’m not takin’ his side! He’s lyin’ anyway! It’s been an hour and he ain’t even back yet. It never takes this long to get a twelve pack. He’s out there lookin’.”

“He did say his countdown was in the minutes now…” Marco recalls and puts a hand to his chin.

“You bloody hear yerself?! His stupid soulmate prolly killed him!”

“Or he’s visiting his sister.” Sam speaks in a tone that warns Digger not to step over the line.

“If his soulmate is his sister that would be really weird.” Axel comments to himself.

Marco rolls his eyes. “What did I just say, Axel?”

Trickster ignores him. “Hey! Digs, you never told us what’s on your hand.”

“It don’t bloody matter what mine is.”

“I suppose it wouldn't for someone who doesn’t have one.” Rory states mirthlessly.

Boomer stands up, eyes blazing with fire. “Why’d’ya say it like that for, Mickey?”

Weather Wizard quickly tries to defuse the situation by standing in between, acting like a barrier in between two hissing cats. “¡Suficiente! Let’s not say anything we are only going to regret later. Everyone is on edge. We should all… move to a different room and collect ourselves.”

“You first, George.”

“Yeah, I flamin’ figured, didn’t I?” Boomerang growls before turning away and stomping down the hall. “Everyone wants to take a crack shot at Digger because he ain’t in the bleedin’ club! Yah, I got the idea!”

“Mick! Digs– come back!”

Harkness slams his bedroom door and slaps himself down on the bed. He can still hear their muffled voices, talking about him. Digger buries his head underneath the pillow. He ignores the knocking at his door that he recognizes as Mirror Master. He doesn’t get up. He presses his hands into the pillow to silence the world around him. All this talk of soulmates was eating him alive. He was like Axel at first, wondering if the Rogues were going to leave one by one in a search. Leave old Digger behind.

He didn’t want to be alone again.

Edward has been actively avoiding Penguin for a while now. Ignoring his calls, his texts… it’s not him. Even before all this soulmate talk, they were not meant to be. Too much toxicity, too much jealousy, too possessive. Riddler is older now and wiser. Perhaps his soulmate won’t blow up his phone…

Nygma only misses Oswald when he drinks. Edward takes a rather large gulp of his wine, glaring down at his phone that vibrates every so often. Penguin was away on a business trip in Metropolis. He got the Flash news late.

Riddler knows the second he touches his phone he is going to say something stupid and clingy to Cobblepot like how much he missed him. It's the alcohol talking. It’s the loneliness slowly killing him.

He was not about to do this to himself again.

And why is he drinking? This soulmate business is riddles on riddles on riddles with no solution. It has been driving him mad the past few days so much so that he has forgotten to eat. Easy to get drunk faster when your belly is empty. He does not often resort to alcohol, but he feels at a loss. The Taste Swap as he dubbed it was gone. And there is nothing on his body to indicate another hint.

He had resorted to forums again. He found out, allegedly, when a soulmate dies, a part of you dies with them. Edward did not feel any such thing. He just felt angry at himself.

The constant dinging and vibrating was not helping his situation either. He was drunk enough to consider putting the phone on his lap and get himself off on the rumbling but that would require leaning over and touching the blasted device. The lack of food and liquor has his head spinning. So he lays on the couch, motionless.

All of the sudden, it's quiet. He must have fallen asleep. His head is not pounding anymore. He opens his eyes and he gawks at the sight of his childhood room.

“No, no, no not this dream, no–” On cue, he hears his parents yelling and feels that horrible twinge of fear creep up in his throat. He knew what was going to happen next. His dad was going to bust through his door, shove him down, and beat his ass, screaming that he’s a liar and a cheater. All the while his mom pours more liquor down her throat and ignores Edward’s shrill screams.

Even as an adult, this may as well feel like yesterday. He tries to block the door from the inevitable with his body. His hands pull on his hair and he is curled up into a ball.

Then, he feels arms wrap around him. His eyes pop open. He does not recognize the stranger embracing him, physically. However, in his mind, he knows that this is his soulmate. The hug itself instantly calms him down. Edward can't seem to get a better look at him. He focuses on what he feels.

His soulmate is a man with big arms that help him feel safe. He can feel his scratchy beard and hooked nose on his neck. His chubby belly is pressed into his own. He has big strong thighs… His presence is so comforting.

He hears his father call out to him in a rage. He shudders and clings onto his soulmate. Edward is then lifted up off the ground and placed aside. The man is holding something unfamiliar to Edward. It seems censored. He looks battle ready. For some reason, fear did not consume Nygma. He watches as the door flies open and his soulmate pounces on his father, taking that object and slicing his throat with it.

Who is he? A mercenary? A serial killer?

The moment he turns to face Edward, the scene abruptly changes and the man notices too.

Riddler’s clean and organized room transitions into a living room full of dated furniture with a heavy stench of musk and humidity and garbage on the floor.

The stranger is gone but only briefly. A big man that Edward can only presume to be his father carries his soulmate into the room by his hair and throws him onto the ground. His head hitting the corner of the table. Edward winces at the impact. The man stays dazed as his father berates him.

This dream is showing them how similar they are, coming from abusive upbringings that have molded them into the men they are today. A woman, his mother most likely, runs in and kneels down to his soulmate. His father snags her by the back of her shirt and rips her off of her son. Breaking out of his stun, the stranger sees this and hurries onto his feet to attack his father for laying a hand on his mother. His father counters with a horrible swing to his jaw.

Fire in his soul, Edward springs into action. He grabs a decorative pillow from the loveseat and backhands it into the father’s head. He crumbles to the ground and Riddler quickly straddles his chest and shoves the pillow into his face. The father squirms and punches the air to resist but Edward keeps up the pressure until the arm waving slows down.

A much slower and more painful death than his soulmate gave to his own dad. He can feel the stranger’s eyes on him, watching in awe.

This must be some kind of test, Edward figures. This dream is showing them who they are as people. What they resort to when threatened…

They are both murderers.

They have both suffered from horrible father figures.

They feel protective of each other because of that.

Edward finally looks at his soulmate to see that his face is completely etched out like a drawing.

Riddler goes over to him and offers his hand. The man takes it and stands. Feeling a strong magnetic pull in between them, Edward goes in for another embrace that his soulmate quickly follows suit. He is shaking. His shoulder feels wet. Edward cannot blame him for feeling overwhelmed.

Then… Nygma wakes up. His face is wet with tears and more well up as he realizes that warm, safe sensation is gone. The headache has returned and his stomach is in knots. He stares up at the ceiling. He tries in vain to picture the man’s face. He attempts to imagine how those arms felt around him. But that also is waning into the ether. The Riddler allows himself to cry at the loss which soon turns into a drunk sob that is hard to stop.

Digger wakes up bawling, pleading. “Come back!! Come back…!!”

His pillow is wet with drool and tears and snot. He knows he looks and even feels pathetic. He can't stop crying. That wondrous, amazing feeling of being loved is flying away and he cannot catch it. It is tearing him apart from the inside and it is the worst pain Harkness has ever been through. He would go back to sleep forever if it meant he could feel that man against him again. He wasn't a hugger but he felt compelled. In that moment seeing him on the floor in distress, Boomer felt a connection with him. He held him because that is what his mum did for him after Ian’s tantrums. Boomer saw Ian in that man’s father and did what he should have done at the mum’s funeral. He was not expecting his soulmate to return the favor and to embrace him.

The world continues to taunt him. Jiggle the keys of happiness in front of him only to take it away again.

He can hear the Rogues gather outside of his door, remarking that they have never heard Boomer cry like this.

In front of him even though he is weeping, he can see her. Lisa. Her head is shaved and she is wearing an oversized sweatshirt that belongs to her brother.

“Lisa?! I gotta still be dreamin’...” He wants to say but his sobs make him incoherent.

Lisa seems to understand. She helps him sit up and she scooches into an embrace. Digger returns the firm hug in kind and momentarily balks at how small she has gotten.

The touch does not offer him the same beautiful sensation as in his dream. He doesn’t pull away, though. He is happy that she’s back in the land of the living but nothing is allowing him right now to feel anything but the agony of loss.

Eventually, Lisa pulls away. “Are all of you just going to stare or are you going to come comfort him?”

“You know I'm not great at that…” Cold says in discomfort. All of them except Lisa seem to feel much out of their depth with Digger openly weeping like this.

“That doesn’t matter. One of you, get over here and hug him.”

Marco is first without hesitation. His embrace is soft, courteous, and sweet. His clothes make him feel like a blanket. His hair smells recently conditioned. The hug is long and affectionate with Mardon rubbing his back. While this is not what Digger needs, still it does calm down from funeral weeping to crying and sniffling.

“Te quiero, Boomerang.”

After pulling away, Sam is next and Boomer has always liked his hugs. His arms are strong and he is always warm to the touch. Schudder holds his head and mindlessly plays with his curly hair that causes Boomerang to melt. Sam plants a kiss onto his forehead.

Axel awkwardly steps up with an equally awkward smile, “Heyyyy… uh, remember that boomerang you were missing a couple of weeks ago? I may have done something with it but you can have it back now.”

Trickster hands him a boomerang with his signature touch on it. Yellows and blues and googly eyes and a mustache with glasses on the bend. Digger takes it from him. He feels numb looking at the missing boomerang. He can't bring himself to feel happy that he has it back or angry because Axel made it his accessory. He places the ‘rang on the bed and stands up and hugs him.

“Oop, okay. Here we are. You’re welcome? Is he happy? I can’t tell…”

“He looks dead inside.” Mick states with guilt.

Axel awkwardly pats his back a few times before easing himself out of his grasp.

“George,” Mick begins, “Listen, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. You’re obviously taking this worse than the rest of us and… I’m sorry I took my pain out on you.”

Again, nothing. Digger trudges over and leans into Mick, his arms wrapping around him. He is very warm to the touch but that does not sway Boomer.

“I hope this is an I forgive you hug… and that you're not going to suplex me.” Rory tries to lighten the mood but Boomerang does not take the joke. He hangs there limply. Heatwave frowns and squeezes him.

“It’s your turn, Len.” Lisa prods.

“How about I get him a beer? C’mon, Boomer.”

Harkness follows Snart like a shadow into the kitchen. He brings out a beer bottle from the fridge, opens, and hands it to him. Boomerang does take the alcohol from him but also steps further and lays his head on Leonard’s shoulder and puts an hand on his side. He is cool to the touch.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” Cold gives his arm a pat. “Get off.”

Boomer does and heads out onto the porch. He sits down on the steps and takes a big swig of his beer. Not even too long of a moment passes by before someone interrupts his alone time.

Glider sits beside him. “The boys told me you don’t have a soulmate. And I’m assuming that was what your dream was about… I think everyone has a–”

“Lisa.” Boomer cuts in. “I’m happy you’re back, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t wanna hear it.”

She frowns deeply. “The Rogues love you, Digs. I love you.”

“They all pity me. You love Sam, married Sam. I’m just the guy they go to for a good time. Never been romantic. Never has one said that they loved me and how long have we all known each other? Sure, they appreciate that I’m back, but… you all were doin’ just fine without me. I ain’t integral to the team. I don’t got elemental powers, I don’t control the weather, I can’t travel faster by goin’ through mirrors, I don’t make traps and I can’t fly… I’m just some guy with boomerangs. Who’s gonna love someone like me when I can be easily replaced with someone better?”

He ignores the guilt in her tone. “Digs… we never replaced you when you were with the Suicide Squad.”

“You should’ve. What am I even got to offer here?”

“... What did you offer to the squad?”

“Muscle… Just another body in the field. They always underestimated me.”

“I see that. It’s gotten to your head.”

“Yeah, well, the soulmate shit ain’t helpin’ neither.” He takes a long drink of his beer. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you not answerin’ what I offered to the team, Miss Leader. If you really got to stop and think about what I bring to the table, then maybe it’s time I go solo.”

“Digs, don’t say that. Some real rest would do you some good, you’re not thinking straight.”

“Funny fuckin’ words comin’ from someone who can see in color, aye?”

“... Marco told me what Mick said to you and I see that’s really hurt you. Do you really not have anything on your hand?”

“Nope.”

“Yours might be unconventional!”

“Lisa, love, just… just stop, alright?”

She pouts but tries one last thing. “I can let you see in color. It’s brief but… it’s beautiful.” She holds her hand out. “It’s given the boys hope, a new look on life, and I think this is what you need.”

He glances at her hand in consideration before inching away. “What I need is you to get the hell away from me. Please, just leave me alone, okay?”

“... Okay. Be alone.” Lisa slowly rises and heads back into the hideout, closing the door behind her.

Boomerang sighs and chugs the rest of his beer. “I miss her already.”

The following morning treated Edward like scum. His tea kettle stopped working so he decided to go try coffee only to watch his coffee maker malfunction and spit out water. With his horrible hangover, he sternly glares at everything around him. This is why he doesn't drink. He feels all out of sorts and sick to his stomach. It took him two hours to even get out of bed. He needed to start his day, be proactive, but nothing aids him. He stands in his kitchenette, sulking. He lazily paws open his bread box and... he does not trust himself with a knife right now, but he grabs one anyway. He forgot to put his contacts in or he fell asleep with them on and they rolled to the back of his eyes. He isn't sure. Either way, he squints as he saws a slice off and flinches at the sudden pain.

"Yup. Good going, Ed." He belittles himself. He brings his index to his mouth and sucks the on the wound. That is when he notices something on his palm.

In dark letters, it reads... "Central City...? As in Ohio?" So, he finally has clear directions, however... "Oh dear, that could be a problem..."

Last time he was in Central City, it was to inflate his ego by taking down the speedster, which went as wrong as one can imagine. The Rogues would have killed him for taking advantage of their own if Flash did not step in between them and sent him back to Arkham.

Edward attempts to remember his dream, the man's clothes for any clues. He is a killer. He didn't hesitate to strike. He can check off the gang of misfits who call themselves: The Rogues. None of them are strictly murderers unless no other option is given. They don't even have the gumption to kill Flash like he tried to. His mind begins to churn. Captain Boomerang was just recently released from the Suicide Squad on account for Amanda Waller's inevitable death. It is possible that, if it was him, he was holding one of those steel boomerangs. Metal like that can easily lacerate skin. If it is George "Digger" Harkness, he was out of costume, making him harder to identify. No. That's just it. It IS him. The phantom pains had to have happened while he was still in the squad, the cheap alcohol and fast food on his tongue, and now the dream... Even though he could not hear them speak, they had to be in Australia.

Riddler did not want to believe it.

"If it's true... if my soulmate is Captain Boomerang. Why? Why him of all people? He's a brash, selfish, incorrigible, childish..." His mind drifts to the embrace they shared. "Sweet... Loving, soft but strong, impulsive... sensitive. I wonder if I am simply letting my loneliness get the best of me yet I cannot deny how terrible I felt... Although, I still feel unsure. I suppose there is only one way to find out for certain..."

"However, it would be unwise of me to go without a disguise. Glasses, no hat, no suit, no cane... A simple button up and slacks. I will look like most average Joes on a business trip. What I'm more concerned about is how long it will take to find him without the rest of the Rogues seeing me... Sunglasses then and perhaps a different hat..."

Boomerang trudges out of his room. He feels heavy, numb. No dreams last night. His sleep was as restless and empty as he feels now. He steps through the kitchen. Sam seems better, more emotionally available now that Glider is back. He addresses him with sweetness. “Good afternoon, Digger. Sleep any better?”

“No…”

He falters slightly. “Sorry to hear that… Lisa told us yesterday you were thinking about leaving the Rogues. Have you… made a decision?”

“Yeah, I’m stayin’. Not like I got anywhere else to go.”

“Oh…” Mirror Master offers him a smile. “I’m glad you’re not going.”

“Hmph…”

“You know, the Rogues haven’t been the same without you. It’s been nice to have you again.”

“Yeah? Is that what yer girl told you to say to me?”

“What? No, I’m being genuine, Digs.”

"Sure, mate."

“Sam, we're about to hit the-” Cold comes in and immediately notices the tension. He looks directly at the culprit, Boomerang. “You're finally up. You good?”

“Yeah. Fine. Great. Just headin’ for the dunny.” He brushes by him and quickly closes the bathroom door. He does his business and nearly leaves without washing his hands until he notices what seems to be black ink on his palm. He looks down and sees GOTHAM inscribed on his skin. The dark cloud over Boomer grows deeper in shade and thunders heavily. He goes over to the sink and drowns his hand in soap, scrubbing it under the water. His anger boils over the brim the longer he continues to scrub. “Why ain’t it comin’ off?!”

He jumps at the knock on the door. “Boomer? Are you okay, man?”

Sam. Boomer shuts the faucet off and swings the door open, startling the man. “Where’s Trickster?!”

“Goddammit, what did you do now, Axel?” He hears Cold, still in the kitchen.

“Me?! I didn’t do shit!” Axel pleads his case. “... Unless he found one of my older pranks I hid too well–”

Seeing red, Digger shoves past Mirror Master and makes a beeline towards Trickster, who trips on the bar stool he was sitting on as he tries to scramble away. Harkness grabs him by the collar. “This ain’t flamin’ funny, Trickster!”

“I-I swear I didn’t put anything in the bathroom last night!” He squeals, squeezing his eyes shut.

“It’s on me hand, you cunt! You did this! How do I get this off?!” He shoves his palm into his face.

He peers and his brows furrow. “D-Digs? Dude, um, there’s nothing there–”

“Don’t bloody lie to me!! Stop makin’ fun of me, alright?! I’ve had enough of this shit!”

“Trickster, this is a bit low for you.” Len comments, stoically.

“Digs, listen–listen to me, man– listen! LISTEN!” Harkness begins reeling his fist back as Axel squirms. “I cannot be more serious right now! I don’t see what’s on your hand!”

Cold snatches his wrist before he could deliver the blow. “Let me see.” He opens his hand and studies both sides. “I don’t see anything either.”

“That ain’t funny, Lenny.”

Sam quickly steps in. “He’s right, Digger. Look.” He shows Boomer his hands. “Do you see anything?”

“No…?”

“See, for me, there’s a star on my left hand. We can’t see each other’s marks. But you know what that means for you? You’ve got a soulmate, Digs!”

The numbness he feels in his body lessens, yet he feels worse than before. “If… If that’s true then why now?”

“I don’t–”

“World’s makin’ fun of me too, huh? It’s all just one big pity party for Digger, aye? Well, I ain’t attendin’.”

“You’re being too sensitive about all this, George.” Cold states.

“Can you get off me now…?” Axel pleads and Boomer begrudgingly stands to the side.

“Can I ask what your mark says?” Sam inquires curiously.

Digger huffs. “... Says Gotham on it.”

“Gotham?” Leonard echoes. “Your soulmate is in New Jersey?”

“That could mean that your soulmate has the name Central City as their mark.” Sam tries to comfort him.

But he doesn't accept the sentiment. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Hey, I can take you there easy if you want–”

“Don’t bother, Sam. I’m not interested.”

“Why not? You were really bothered about it yesterday–”

“Just because they’re my bleedin’ soulmate doesn’t mean shit. They’re gonna take one look at me and say no and walk off.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Sam, you didn’t have the balls to go visit your girl to see if she was your soulmate. But I guess she ain’t, aye? She’s Lenny’s. So, don’t talk to me about what I won't do, alright?”

Axel whistles, eyes big and looking everywhere else but at them.

Ignoring both looks from Cold and Mirror Master, Digger hurries out the door. “I’m goin’ for a walk.”

Edward feels like a fool staring at his palm as he rides the tram towards Central City Station. He feels as if he is making a mistake. He is out of his element, letting the mysterious mark on his hand guide him to his supposed love of his life. And that soulmate being Digger Harkness is like a kick to the face. It was not anyone smart or powerful in ways of wealth or persuasion. Not that he thought he would ever have a chance with someone like Lex Luthor, but still he wanted someone who would match him intelligence wise and not get in the way of his ego, unlike most people he has dated.

But Captain Boomerang? That man can lower everyone's IQ just by walking into the room. He was on the Suicide Squad and survived what was thrown at him; so he is not entirely useless. Nygma could not be seen with someone like him in Gotham. He is good muscle but... Riddler does not typically date the help.

Even if they do share a similarities...

He sighs and rests his head on the window.

It had to be Captain Boomerang. Edward does not believe in karma but he feels like the universe is mocking him, trying to knock him down a peg.

He notices fear in the pit his stomach. He fears the idea that he may look upon the man and decide to throw his reputation out the window.

Yet when he does arrive at the station, he does not make a beeline towards the ticket booth. He walks out into the city and studies the cityscape. He fixes his suspenders to appease his nerves. Now what? Where could this man be? He glances down at his hand as if that would supply him an answer.

To his surprise, it does.

It's coordinates.

Boomerang did not expect to run into Hartley on his booze run, attempted run anyway. Most places he went to, he knew he was banned from, but Digger felt as if he wasn't in control of his body anymore. Walking around to familiar places just for the sake of it. So running, literally, into his old mate, Pied Piper, is a shock.

"George?" Hartley exclaims. "You look like shit."

"Yeah?? Well..." Harkness struggles for an insult, "You look... happy...? Must be so bloody nice that yer soulmates a flamin' cop, aye?"

Piper tries to put the pieces together. "Did yours reject you?"

Boomer scoffs, "Not yet, but he's bound to. Sod off, will ya? I'm tryna get a drink."

"You've always been incredibly hard on yourself."

He stops before getting too far and looks at Hartley with big puppy dog eyes, begging for comfort. In the Rogues, Rathaway was one of the few that actually expressed his feelings very openly with the rest. Of course, that was met with some mixed reception at times, but he was always a good listener. It is natural for Hartley to extend that olive branch to Digger. To be honest, Boomerang did miss him. He was the first rogue to make him feel loved, appreciated. When he left for a cop, those feelings became bitter and brittle. He wanted to grab his hand and snap his elbow or punch him in the jaw.

"I am glad you're back, George. Do the Rogues know?"

There he is being sweet again. He deserves better than a cop. "Yer happy a criminal's come home? What? You wanna arrest me?"

"No! I'm just happy you're okay! You've been gone for a long time. It hasn't been the same without you."

Hearing Hartley say that takes on another meaning entirely. Boomer knows he stands by his word. He is touched by it.

"Been stayin' with our mates for a month now."

"A month? Huh... I felt like I should have heard about that."

"Ehhh, we've been lyin' low. No worries."

"Well, regardless, it's nice to see you again... I know a cafe nearby. You wanna catch up?"

"I, uh..." A lie doesn't come to him. There is a part of him that wishes that his soulmate was Piper instead, just so he can get him away from that prestigious vigilante life and get him back on the team. Hartley was his first after he came out to them. Boomerang was curious, open to experimenting and Piper didn't mind. Digger was not sure if he could call it his first gay relationship when it was a situationship at most. With these rekindling feelings building up inside him, it is all the more reason to get away from him. "Nah. You go on. I need to be alone. 'Sides, Rogues would kill me if they saw me fraternizin' with you."

"Yeah, they would." Rathaway chuckles lightly. "But you get really destructive when you're alone, George. Don't let me catch you, alright?"

He winks. "I'll be sneaky about it, Hart."

"Take care of yourself, Digs." And he leaves, nearly disappearing into the bustling crowd of people.

And once more Digger feels empty.

"Stupid bloody mark." He looks down to sneer at it.

It's changed to an arrow, pointing behind him. He turns around confused, seeing no one looking stupid as they stare at their own hand. He checks again to see that the arrow is pointing forward across the street.

"Strewth... he's close, ain't he? He's here... He's-he's lookin' for me!" That set his heart alight with hope. He bolts across the street.

"The bloody Flash Museum? What the hell is he here for? Sightseein'?" His head spins as he thinks. "Righto, maybe... Maybe, he knows who I am! I did bring me rang in that dream. He could be checkin' out that statue of ol Digger, aye? Well, he's bout ta get a taste of the real thing!"

To his credit, Edward is studying his statue. It is where his coordinates told him to go. He has never come across Captain Boomerang in person. He has a nice jawline. His sideburns are more grown out into a beard than mutton chops like Nygma's. Standing here, he notices that every other patron only gives this statue a glance than a curious gaze. He hears a child ask his mother who the funny looking man is. Teenagers only look to make fun of his dated outfit. Ever since Boomer's abrupt departure, it seems all of Central City has forgotten him. That must put an awful damper on his ego.

He feels a tug in his chest. He figures that means his soulmate is possibly nearby. In order to not look desperate, as demeaning as that would be for him, he casually surveys the room before finally turning around. It is just as he figured. The real Captain Boomerang is standing right there and no one bats an eye at him.

They meet each other’s gaze. Suddenly, an invisible rope between them suddenly tightens. In an instant, they watch their lives unfold before their eyes, hearing their thoughts in those moments, feeling how the other felt. Edward diagnoses that Harkness is... a broken, needy, desperate man who loathes his very existence. And Digger sees Nygma as a prudish, arrogant  prick with a god complex and yet...

There is a sense of similarity.

"My soulmate's the Riddler?" He blinks and sees how close Boomerang is to him. "Would'a lost money on that bet."

“According to fate, apparently so…" He can feel Digger's emotions as if they are tangible. His anxiety wraps around him in an uncomfortable hug. He pushes on. "But why YOU of all people?”

He gapes in shock, despite knowing this would be the outcome. He lies anyway, hyping himself up, praying Edward would take his bait. “Whaddya mean ME of all people?! You bagged yerself the handsomest Rogue in Central City!”

“Uh huh and that isn't saying much from an Ohio resident.”

“Oi, I aint even a resident here!”

“Regardless… I refuse.” He regrets that the second it comes out of his mouth. And Digger knows he does.

His sadness hits him like a semi. “Yer just leavin’?”

Edward is pushing him for a reason. Just because they have experienced each other's lives does not mean he trusts him. Digger will always look out for himself first before anyone else, even though his memories at times betray that. Nygma knows himself. He would leave this man behind when push comes to shove. “Obviously. You’re an alcoholic degenerate and I would never associate myself with you.”

He deflates faster than a balloon. “You– you bike! I-I’m more than that! Y-you know I am.”

"I am not interested in being your therapist. I refuse to be your soulmate. Goodbye, Harkness." He turns to leave.

“Don't you leave me here!” Digger cries out and grabs Edward by the arm.

“Unhand me–!” An explosion of colors rains down around and on them, each color spreads across their surroundings in various shades and hues. Riddler gawks with his mouth wide. The museum is no longer gray but a rich brown. Around them, the crowd of people and their clothes burst in a wide range of various marvelous colors. Edward looks towards Harkness and his breath evicts itself from his lungs. He has the most gorgeous auburn locks. Red splotches on his nose and chin from the sun as well as freckles peppering along his forehead and down his neck. He is wearing shades of blue akin to his older costume, which makes his hair stand out more and when he finally faces him Edward’s heart gallops.

“Oh my god, your eyes…”

“What? What about them?” He asks with worry.

“They’re green…” Falling head over heels for a certain color is not something Riddler knew was going to happen today, but on Boomerang, that green is so immensely beautiful. It is like looking through a grassy meadow. He isn't sure why he associated grass with green so fast. Another riddle to solve. Regardless, he cannot stop staring.

Digger seems to understand that. “... Like yer shirt?”

“My shirt…?” Nygma looks down and low and beyond he is wearing a lime green shirt with a purple tie and black pants. “Ah… no, not exactly this kind of green. It’s darker. Richer.” Handsome.

“Handsome? You think me eyes handsome?"

"I-I didn't say that."

"Yeah, you did. I heard you." He places his hands on his arms, not to keep him here, but to hold him. Edward lets him. His hands are big, calloused but comforting. "You got some rich dark eyes too, Ed. Didn’t think you were a ginger.”

“Ginger? I suppose we match then.”

“We do??” He doesn't look away. “Strewth…”

Riddler shivers. He can feel Boomer's love pressing into him like a kiss. “What did you mean by… rich dark eyes?”

“They're a pretty brown. Like dark chocolate.”

Somehow, he can put that comparison together without a hitch.

“I kinda wanna swim in it…”

Pulled back into reality, Edward breaks out of his hold and instantaneously the vibrant colors vanish, startling them both.

“OI! Where’d they all go?”

The Riddler hates his realization. “It’s only when we are touching. Oh, I despise that.”

“No, you don't.”

He also despises that he cannot get away with words anymore. “I hate PDA.”

“Especially with me, right?” He bares his teeth. “Go on, say it. You can’t just act like neither of us witnessed a bloody miracle only we can see… I wanna see that red on ya again–”

“Don't touch me!” Nygma slaps his hand away and, like water rippling, a wave of color washes over them and their surroundings, carrying the sound of the slap until it dies into gray once more.

His now gray eyes beg him. He misses that luscious green on him. Digger tries to step closer, his voice soft. “C’mon, Eddy…”

“Oh, please don’t beg. I’m already humiliated.”

“No, yer not! I ain’t beggin’! I just… I wanna see how the sky looks with these colors, is that so bad?”

Riddler scoffs. “What a sorry excuse to hold my hand.”

“Yeah, I know but I know you, Riddler. I know yer curious. I know you're gonna get on back to Gotham and regret leavin’ because all you’ll get is nothin’. You won’t ever see these pretty green peepers again. I saw that face, Edward. I heard you. You think ol Digger is handsome with all ‘em colors. You saw all me flaws laid out like that and... I just wanna hear you say that you like me, cause I feel it. Yer just putting on a show cuz yer scared.”

Edwards feels hot and annoyed. “I am NOT scared.”

“Yeah, I'll believe that when you're actually tellin' the truth, Ed. No one's gotta know about us. That's what yer scared of, yeah? You got a reputation... I don't anymore thanks to Waller. Fact, I don't got anything for you, except..." He offers his hand. "Someone who gets ya. No one understands us, no one wants us around... Honestly, mate, we're kinda perfect for each other. You're just as lonely and petty and bitter as I am."

"I suppose you make some decent points."

"I know I ain't smart, but I know I can give ya something much better than what Penguin did." He takes a trembling breath, pouring himself out to him. Needily. Clinging. "Real love." He swallows. "I know you don't need protection, mate, but lemme be that. I want to be useful. I-I want to-"

"Shut up." Riddler snaps. His heart hurts. "You're sweeter than I thought you'd be."

"I can be anything you want..." He whispers weakly.

"Be yourself." He grasps and squeezes Boomerang's hand.

Once more, the museum is flooded with vibrant colors. Digger's heart swells big enough to burst out of his chest. Blinking the tears out of his eyes, he leads the Riddler outside where they are stunned once more at the setting sky. The reds, oranges, and purples paint the sky as the yellow sun tucks itself to bed under the horizon line.

“My word…” Edward is breathless.

Harkness only looks at it briefly, but, as corny as it sounds, nothing can compare to Riddler right now. He wants to kiss him. He wants to take him back to his room and give him the night of his life.

Nygma sharply jerks to look at him, his pupils huge. His face is red.

"Oh shit, you heard all that."

"Loud and clear." He says through gritted teeth.

Feeling uncomfortably warm, Boomer tries to pull away but Edward is firm in his grip. "I-I gotta ah- I gotta go-"

"Oh no, you're not running away now. It's time you face the consequences, George Digger Harkness."

"Blimey, the full name?!"

"If you want to get in my pants that badly, Harkness, you owe me at least a couple of dates."

"Least it ain't riddles... ahhhhh bloody hell! I just gave you that idea, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." He chuckles with great amusement.

"I'd take the dates over the riddles... if I had any cash."

"You don't need money for dates, Digger... I just want you to spend time with me."

"Yeah... Yeah! I can do that." With their hands still connected, he puts his arm around his shoulders. "So, ah, would ya consider this a date?"

Edward leans into him, much to his delight. "I don't know... I'm not sure if I would define it as a 'meet-cute'. Our meeting was not cute at all."

Boomer snorts. "How you were lookin' at me was pretty cute. I wanna go back and see that again."

He can feel Nygma's fluster and he clings onto that. The urge to kiss him consumes him once more. He doesn't want to go back home to the Rogues. He wants to stay with Riddler, wherever he wants to go.

"I can book a hotel." Edward offers. "It's best that you go back to your teammates for the night. I would rather them have no idea that I am here if you can keep this a secret. We have a bit of a... sordid history while you were gone."

"Yeah, I saw it. Honestly, I don't give a shit if they kick me out cuz yer my mate."

"That is a very Romeo and Juliet sentiment, Digger. However, that is not how I want us to go out. I'll stay here for only a few days then... I should return to Gotham."

"Only a few days?" He puts on his big pleading eyes, "Can it be for a week?"

"Hmmmrmmm... Depending on how the dates go... possibly."

"Deal... but y'know, I kinda stormed out on them to look for you. Usually when I do that, they don't really look for me. So... maybe I can..." He loops an arm around his middle.

"I don't want to take that chance. You have Mirror Master. Who knows? He could be watching us right now."

"Shit... He could be."

"You should go and tell them you found your soulmate but tell them I'm a civilian and I don't know that you're Captain Boomerang."

"Yeah." He replies with determination. "Don't worry, Eddy. I'll keep you safe."

Chapter Text

"Edward! I'm home!"

Feeling Diggers body press into his own from behind emits a heavy dose of sterotonin into his brain. Edward stops his fiddling with wires and leans into him and releases a small sigh. His mind tingles as Boomer's hands feel over his chest and stomach. Normally, Riddler would get irate at Boomerang interrupting his process, but he had been gone for the whole day and Edward hated to say it but...

"You missin' me?"

"Very much."

"I missed ya too, love." He plants a kiss onto his neck.

Edward spins the chair around, gets up, and fully embraces Digger. Eagerly, Harkness squeezes him and their standard routine that Nygma adores so much begins. Edward has a compulsive need to do things in exacting fashion and Digger is more than happy to acquiesce to that request. Resting his hands on his hips, Digger deliberately trails a line of kisses down his jawline. Riddler's eyes flutter shut as Boomer continues down his neck. His beard fuzz tickles his delicate skin. This next trail is in the shape of a question mark and the dot is right on the crook of his neck. When he kisses there, Edward bows his head back with a soft moan and he tightly grips the back of his shirt. Warmth washes completely over his body as Digger licks and nibble at the spot.

"Boooommieee..."

His desperate need for attention and validation is being fulfilled most adamantly. Boomer lifts him by the thighs and sets him down on the desk. It would be more romantic if the platform was not full of Edward's tech.

"Careful...!"

Without a word, Digger continues to ravish him. Riddler breathes heavily as Digger changes sides and kisses up his neck and towards his ear to hit the next sweet spot. How his hair dances against his lobe makes him squirm. His legs that are wrapped around him squeeze his middle. He loves feeling the muscles on his biceps.

"Didja think about me?" He lowers his voice, speaking directly into his ear.

Edward feels plain hot now. "Yes."

"You were on me mind all day." He strokes his thighs. "Wanna take this to the bed?"

"Carry me?"

"Mmm, with pleasure, love." Edward feels unrealistically safe in Digger's arms. Not that he has ever felt in danger. Even when the Batman in front of him, he always had a way out. But the way Digger holds him opened something in his chest that he had no idea that he needed. Carrying was also the third most desirable thing. The second being his embrace and the first is his lips. Harkness can lift him up so easily. Typically, Edward has only been carried around like a bag of groceries when he is on his way to being sent to Arkham. The first few times Digger forced him to defy gravity, he panicked and squirmed until he was swiftly put down. Now on occasion, Edward wants to be carried by him. He wants to be completely engulfed by his touch and be worshiped like the god he wants to be. And he knows Digger is more than happy to give that to him.

Chapter Text

From his watchtower, Captain Boomerang doesn't even remember what he is supposed to be looking for. And with no one to banter or annoy, what is he to do? Waller has startled him awake a few times, asking for updates and the convict truthfully replies with Nuttin' new.

Digger is a survivalist. He has had to camp out before in the woods, but that doesn't mean he has an affinity for nature. He wasn't scared of what could be below him in the forest. He has faced far worse things than wild animals. However, that is not what he thought about when he exited the portable toilet underneath his safe haven. He heard a crack behind him. His mind flickers from movie to movie The Thing, Cujo, Cocaine Bear, Friday the 13th, Alien- the list goes on to horrify the man of what could possibly be out there. In the dark. Watching him.

Slowly, he raises his boomerang as well as his flashlight. He doesn't call out to the noise nor does he go towards it. He has seen enough horror movies to- there's scorch marks on the earth.

"Ahhhhh, bugger..." He brings his walkie up to his face. "Waller. Think I got somethin'. Grass got footprints burnt in it."

"Burned? Follow them."

"Follow 'em she says..." He grumbles as he follows the tracks further into the brush. "If this is how I bloody die, Waller, I'm doin' more than hauntin' yer arse..."

After five minutes of walking, he sees where footprints stop and destruction begins. Trees are are bent, and the smell of burning bark wafts through the air. How did he miss this from where his tower is? ... It most likely happened when he was asleep. In the middle of what looks to be reminiscence of an explosion is a man in a trench coat bending over a husk. Light on his feet, Digger hides behind a fallen trunk.

"False alarm." He hisses into the mic. "It's that bloody derro Constantine."

"John Constantine?" Waller asks in disbelief. "The Hell is he doing?"

"Dunno, he's lookin' at the same shit I am... Whatever happened here weren't good, but he's all unscathed, hunkerin' over somethin'. I ain't engagin', am I?"

"If he's here then it's nothing good, but he could be a link to what we're tailing..."

Digger sighs loud with his head in his hand. "I'm not talkin' to him, am I?"

"If you want ten years off your sentence."

He pockets walkie and looks over to see that the Scouser is on the move. Digger crawls out from his cover and notices that the burned up corpse is gone. Great, more questions to ask. Harkness stays a fair distance behind Constantine, minding his step as they make their way through the uneven terrain. It was not long before John made the circle and they are both standing under the watch tower Digger is inhabiting. John takes a moment to survey the stairs with a gruff exhale before climbing them. Carefully Boomerang continues to shadow him, aiming to mirror Constantine's pace. As the Scouser reaches the top, he pauses to catch his breath, forcing Digger to stay still in the darkness. With his strength returned, Constantine enters the lookout. The glow of his cigarette the only source of light.

Captain Boomerang swiftly closes the gap between them and strikes the occultist on the head before he could react.

"Righto, Johnny." He chuckles, lightly kicking his unconscious form. He takes the cigarette that fell to the ground and places in between his lips. He takes a puff. "Got an idea 'bout how you work, mate. So, we're doin' this on my terms."

Digger watches as Constantine rise out of his sleep. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the harsh overhead light.

"You don't stay gone long, aye?" Harkness smirks, casually flipping the boomerang in his hand.

"Auhh, bloody Hell, not you." John whines, trying to stretch his back against the rope Boomer tied him up in. "Seriously?"

The convict beams wickedly. "For the record, mate, much prefer these circumstances. You're triflin' with TFX business, and since it's just me here..." He steps closer, his steel boomerang shining in the light, which causes John to squint. "Waller ain't gotta know a thing 'bout what happens with you."

"Sounds like your promisin' me a good time, Aussie."

"Trust you, me, mate, only one of us is goin' to be havin' fun here."

Constantine cocks a brow and sits straighter, matching his smug tone. "I wouldn't be so sure... Is that my fag?"

Boomerang takes a drag and blows the smoke into his face. "Might be."

Instead of coughing, he breathes it in and moans slightly with a sigh, his blue eyes gazing into him like he is peering deep into his soul.

Digger doesn't bite. He presses his rang into his throat. "Onto business, aye? Whaddya doin' here?"

"Personal affairs." He answers, casually. "What's Waller lookin' for?"

"I'm askin' the questions here, Johnny. What was that shit I saw out there? What exploded and died? I saw you loomin' over somethin'."

"You didn't see it?"

"It was, er, I mean... it looked like a corpse or a shell of somethin'? Not real sure. That's why I'm askin'. You got real close to it."

"It had something I wanted."

Harkness eagerly encourages him. "Yea? What is it?"

"Oh, I put it somewhere on me." John says all pompous.

"It ain't alive?"

"Mmm, whose to say?"

"... With teeth?"

"It's possible."

Boomerang narrows his eyes, puckering his lips in thought. "Yer lyin'."

"Am I?"

It is possible that if Digger took a wrong turn in his upbringing, he would have a similar life to John. He has seen the occultist's file. He is a nuisance to everyone around him, gets more people killed than he can keep alive, enjoys his fair share of bad company, a snake or fox would blush at his string of lies he maintains... not to mention he's a lonely man whore. Honestly, he would be up Boomerang's alley if he wasn't a Brit. Digger has been out here for two weeks. He's bitter and lonely. Worst of all, he is starting to think that Constantine also knows that with how he is replying. He has to be vying for that kind of attention. Feel around his body for whatever Waller is possibly looking for and if he does that, he fears of what is to come after. He isn't scared that he'll enjoy it but... To Hell with Waller, but Constantine can get stuffed if he thinks he can coax Captain Boomerang this way. He'll cut and run afterward, taking whatever it is with him.

In place of his hand, he taps John's coat pockets with his boomerang. He feels something respond in his left side. He reaches in and pulls out a nearly empty cigarette pack.

"Be a dove a gimme one of those, will ya? Since you took mine."

With a raised brow, Harkness places the pack on the counter behind him. "I ain't a dove. You want one, get it yerself."

Constantine shrugs, "Alright."

Suddenly, a cigarette appears a few centimeters away from his face. John leans forward and take it into his mouth. "Got a light?"

He trying to turn things into his favor with his roguish charm. It's possible that things are already falling into place for Constantine. Digger glares at him. "No."

"Sure ya do. It's right on your lip."

Boomerang reaches up to take his cig and drop it on the ground before stomping it, but his body stops it. He has to trick him... "If I do, you'll talk?"

"More than happy to talk over a smoke."

Already, he knows what the Scouser wants. He complies, begrudgingly. He moves closer and leans down. He hates the knowing grin on his face as he tilts his head up. The cigarettes gentle nudge and they both hold still. Digger forces his mind to focus on anything else that isn't those scathing blue eyes that watch every twitch of his face until the cinders smolder the butt sufficiently. He pulls away and steps back.

Constantine inhales and blows smoke through his nostrils. "Ta."

"Yeah, yeah, talk."

"If your Waller is lookin' for an artifact, then yea, I have it on me."

"What's it look like?"

"Yellow, coin shaped... Bout the size of pill cap."

Digger takes the walkie off of his belt and holds the button down. "We lookin' for a... yellow coin lookin' thing, love?"

"You have it?" She asks with excitement.

"Johnny has it."

"Of course, he does..." She growls before commanding. "Take it however you can."

"Happy to oblige." He grins, placing the device on the counter. "You heard the sheila, Johnny."

"It's in my back pocket." He replies a bit too cheerfully for Digger's liking.

"Is it? You schemin'?"

"Only one way to find out, right?"

John Constantine is a hard man to kill. He couldn't send a boomerang through him; he can easily displace it with his magic. Strangling him wasn't an option either. "Yer gonna give it to me."

"Oh? You're untying me?" He seems all too pleased to hear that.

"Yeah-wait, no, that would..." Actually, he could easily make himself disappear but here he was, humoring Digger, playing with him. Come on, Digger, think...

"If you're at a loss, Harkness, I'd go with your gut."

"I don't need your flamin' advice! ... And my gut wants to make ya bleed but I can't bloody well do that, can I?"

"Weeeeell... there are other means of bruising me." Now he is just laying it on thick like Harkness was too dense to figure it out. "How long have you been up here?"

"None of ya business."

"Long enough then..." He gathers from looking at the trash scattered around. "I'll tell you this, Harkness, we both resolve our problem and I'll let you have the artifact as long as you return it to me."

"Return it?" Better than him running off with it. "Yeah, Waller ain't good about givin' things back."

"That's fine." Constantine decides with a hum. "I can deal with her better than you can, given your position."

"You're stupid to try, mate. It'll be a fun watch for sure."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Don't know how I can trust ya on it, mate."

The ropes constricting him abruptly fall onto the floor in a heap and John stands, dusting himself off. "No, I wouldn't recommend trustin' me on a lot of things. But I am a man of my word."

"Oi!?" Digger raises his boomerang out of instinct only to have it knocked out of his hand. Constantine shoves him into the cabinets. His eyes cross as the Scouser roughly thrusts into him as he bites down on his neck. Boomer has always liked it rough but he was usually the one giving instead of taking it. John coaxes out a restrained groan from his throat, akin more to a growl. The occultist is passionate, Digger will give him that. He is as lonely as he is, if not more so. Harkness snatches his hair and rips him off to apply those lips onto his own. Their tongues are quick to dance together. Boomerang gropes and feels up his ass to find that dumb coin Waller wants so bad- Despite the noises that are coming out of John that Digger could not deny the hotness of- he finds himself upon the bed, more of a cot, in the corner of the room with Constantine's shit eating grin above him.

"No cheatin', love." He purrs. He tears off Digger's shirt with ease and mumbles something under his breath, tracing his finger over his chest.

His brain tingles with pleasure. He blinks out of the sensation. "Hey! None of that magic shit!"

"Don't get yer knickers in a twist, mate. You don't have anything that would be helpful up here. I had to improvise. Don't give me that, you'll like it. Here..."

Boomerang is unsure what part of him John is touching but it is sending waves of a blissful, almost peaceful sensation throughout his body. Looking up at Constantine, he is feeling it too, his eyes fluttering. Harkness grabs him by his head and pulls him into another wet kiss, inspiring another plume of elation through them.

Digger could get addicted to this.

Chapter Text

Being a single parent to a growing baby would take it's toil on anyone. But it's another when a much bigger and louder man child like Digger is also trying to co-parent. He refuses to change or bathe her, which Lawton does not see this as too unfair. Zoe isn't his kid. But he does get distracted too often, leading to Zoe getting into mischief. There was not a parental bone in Harkness' body. He had no idea what to do when she cries- or even when she's happy. He can play with her, he's good at that. But he stares blankly at her as she tries to climb up his leg. For some reason, she has taking a liking to him. It's most likely his wispy hair she grabs and pulls on more than one occasion. And speaking of hair... Recently, Floyd had the displeasure of having to very- no, taking EXTREME care to pry out the wrong brush from his daughter's thick curly hair because of the Aussie. Harkness looked as guilty as a dog, smiling like one too. This later led to a fight.

Digger trying to help always leads to yelling. That isn't good for Zoe. She may be a tot, but she is smart. She can tell the mood dipped and she toddles off to play by herself.

Floyd sits on the deck with his head in his hands. He hears the door squeak as it opens. He doesn't need to look up to see the Aussie pouting at him. He expected the man to have his bag in his hand and stand outside with him as he waits for his uber. Instead, he sits beside him. He doesn't try to apologize again. Lawton knows Digger isn't trying to make his life harder, not on purpose anyway. It is also on Lawton that he never properly instructed him on how to act around a developing child. He merely assumed Harkness would brush him off. He shouldn't have assumed when Digger seems to want to learn, even if he is nervous and hesitant. Floyd has been shoving his insecurities onto him... Digger has good reason to leave, but he doesn't- he isn't.

"I really am a deadbeat." He sighs out the breath he has been holding. Not a good boyfriend either, he confesses to himself.

"Ehh, could be worse. Could be like my step-dad and beat her when she got too fussy."

Harkness never spoke about his family often, but when he does, it was short and painful. He wasn't trying to make it about himself. For once, he is genuine. It's his weird and slightly traumatizing way of being comforting. "I... Yeah, I guess I'm not the worst." He confirms awkwardly. He peeks at him through his fingers to see Digger bent forward with his elbows on his knees, looking out to the desolate street. His blonde hair lightly moves in the summer breeze.

"Unlike him, you actually give a toss about ya kid, ya know?" Digger has also been minding his language about little Zoe. "If Ian saw me cryin', he'd punch me for it. Tell me to suck it up. You don't do that. You were comfortin' her. Right?"

"Right..."

"See, Floyd? You ain't that bad." He looks at him and gives him a half smile. "You're doing much better."

"Yeah? And who's watching the kid right now?"

His face pales, "Uh... the Telly...?"

Lawton snorts, in spite of himself, "Did your parents do that too?"

"Nahh, too poor for one. The outdoors was my TV."

"And playing with roadkill?"

Digger chuckles, "Yeah, that too. Mum hated that."

"You've told me..."

With the tension between them ever present, Harkness attempts to quell it. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are... I know you're trying and I haven't been the best at explaining anything to you. I just..."

"I'm too much?"

"You've always been too much, George. But I don't want you to leave."

His brows raise and he gazes at him with hope. "Can always call up Harley. You can go take a break."

Floyd pushes away his sentiment. "Zoe isn't used to Harley. I think the make up freaks her out... and Zoe likes you, weird as that is."

"She knows I'm the fun one." He says complacently with a smirk.

Lawton rolls his eyes but does not fight him on that. "You... are good at playing with her."

"Yeah, she's real easy to please. You know, I never understood why people go all crazy for kids. I've been a kid. Everyone hated me. But hearing that lil ankle biter coo and laugh? I think I get it."

That touches Floyd's heart in ways he is not sure what to do with. He tries teasing. "Don't tell me it's giving you baby fever."

"Oh hell no! God, could you imagine? A little Digger runnin' around?"

"He'd be a menace." Lawton lets himself laugh.

"Too right. I wouldn't know what to do if I had a kid. He'd have all my DNA and that's just gonna fuck him up."

Floyd looks the Aussie over, wondering how someone like him can be so insecure about himself. "You know, babies are good judge of characters."

Harkness meets his gaze with scrutiny. "She's a baby. She don't know crap."

"She didn't mind being held in Shark's arms. And he's a big fucking shark. You can't tell me that baby you wouldn't shit yourself if a shark came to your house one day and picked you up."

"Yeah, that's a bloody nightmare, ain't it? She's a proper trooper." He snickers and stands up. "We should go check up on her."

Following Digger back into his house, they find Zoe, as he had said, preoccupied with the television. Floyd goes over and picks her up, earning him a confused coo before she looks at him with those big brown eyes. She can still feel the oppressive atmosphere. She reacts passively at the sight of him. She looks down and paws at his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Zoe." He says softly, kissing her wee head.

"I got an idea. Watch. Oi. Look at Digger." He pokes her belly to get her attention. "Ya see yer dad there? See him? He's my lil cheddar stick."

"Your what now?"

"My lil cheddar stick. You know what else he is, Zoe, you know what else he is?"

Zoe begins to smile. "Buh!"

"That's right! He's my sexy portable microwave too."

"Don't say sexy in front of her... portable microwave?"

"She don't know what that means. Do ya, Zoe?" She giggles cutely in reply.

"I think she's laughing at your accent, man."

"Nahh, she's laughin' at you. What else is yer daddy, Zoe? My lil elf on the shelf. Cuz he's short."

"Alright, that's enough." He glares at the Aussie but Zoe's laughter keeps him from moving. Digger's proud grin is not helping either.

"What's wrong, truck nuts?"

"Nooo!" He groans. "Don't say- don't call me that!"

"Go on, lil biter, what else is he?" Zoe babbles, smiling all giddy and swaying to and fro in Floyd's hold. She extends her little arms out towards him and his face falls into a panicked expression. "Ah shhhhhhhuger..."

"She wants you to hold her, chapstick."

"She's gonna eat my beard, that's what she wants." He digests the name a second later and shoots a glare at him. "Oi! Chapstick?!"

"Yeah, you could use one." Floyd says over his daughter's belly laugh. He steps forward. "Do you want to hold her?"

Digger looks back and forth between them, startled. He leans back with his hands up. "I-I'll drop her."

"No, you won't."

"I don't wanna hurt her again!"

"You won't hurt her, Digs." He reassures him, softly. "I trust you."

"... You do?"

Lawton gingerly hands Zoe off to him, instructing him on how to prop her up correctly. He is awkward about it but his form is accurate. Zoe excitedly coos and before either of them could stop her she grabs onto Digger's beanie and yanks it over his eyes.

"Zoe!" Floyd lightly scolds, which only makes the baby squeal with delight.

"It's fine, Floyd." He laughs it off. "Least she ain't eatin' me hair."

"She's trying to eat your boomerang thing on it. Zoe, stop, we don't do that to George. He likes this hat. That's why he doesn't wash it."

"I bloody wash it! I just use the shower."

Knowing Harkness, he probably has story he doesn't consider tragic to go with the fact of why he doesn't use the washers and dryers available to him and why he occasionally showers with his clothes and boomerangs. Regardless, Floyd doesn't bring it up. He watches Digger babble back at Zoe as if they are having a competition of who can be the loudest. Lawton gently pulls his beanie out of his eyes and the Aussie thanks him. He seems to be getting more comfortable now. He makes faces at her as he carefully swoops her from left to right.

"See? Real easy to please, aintcha, Zo-zo? Aintcha?" She cries with joy. "Aintcha?? Awwhhhahaha... you're so cute."

Maybe, it's Floyd who is getting baby fever. This is killing him.

"Digs."

"Yeah, mate?" He looks at him with a big smile.

Placing a hand on his cheek, Floyd steps in (the real test on whether Digger will accidentally drop the baby) and kisses him on the mouth. He doesn't have to look to know that Digger is staring at him with his big green eyes full of cute astonishment.

"Something wrong, catfish?" Lawton smiles at his open mouthed gawking, much like a fish.

"Zoe, girl, don't look." Harkness mumbles before leaning down for another kiss.

Chapter Text

Deadshot could have killed him by now. He is on the rooftop, looking into his room on the tenth floor. Digger can see his scope reflecting the sun onto the TV screen. He takes a swig of his drink and sets it down on the coffee table. Floyd normally doesn't waste any time with his kills. If this was his way of checking up on him, that's cute.

And it gives Harkness an idea. He stands up and stretches first, rolling his neck and shoulders. He cannot remember the name of or lyrics to the song he hums. Buh nuh nuh duh nuh or something like that. Regardless, he begins removing his duster to the rythmn, shimming it down slow. He wanted to tease Floyd as if he was in a burlesque show. Eventually, he throws the coat aside and gets on top of the table.

Swinging his hips from left to right, he follows how his hands unravel the scarf from his neck. He grins as he turns around and lets the white fabric fall to the floor. He debates on taking off his hat. Eh, just this once, only to show Floyd that he's serious. He plucks it off and tosses it behind him. Squinting through the glare, Digger directs Deadshots' eye with his hands. He opens his mouth and licks his teeth before inserting his finger in and sucking on it as seductively as he thinks he is accomplishing. He pulls it out with a wet pop and lets the bead of saliva string along until it broke on its own. Raising his head, both hands straddle his neck, his eyes flutter, and he opens his mouth wider just to tease the assassin. Telling him to come over and shut him up.

He then feels down the front of his torso and his hands dive under his shirt. Digger may have gotten a bit too into it from there with imagining Floyd's calloused palms carressing him. He swears if this doesn't convince him...

Digger opens his eyes to see that Deadshot had left. He stops with a pout. The assassin has left him high and dry before or rather - frustrated and wet. He looks to the door. He even waits by it. He should have come up the elevator by now... unless he is trying to be sneaky? He looks around his temporary apartment, studying the room as if Deadshot is going to up and appear.

Knocking startles him and he lets out a shout. He quickly peels his shirt off and he throws the door open.

Floyd Lawton meets him with an disgruntled glare. "Are you stupid? That could have been anyone and you did that?"

Digger's grin falls immediately. "I knew it was you, you galah."

"That doesn't matter. What if you are wrong next time and you pull that again? You'd be dead."

Leave it to Floyd to be so concerned about the future that he cannot stay in the present. Digger sighs. "Mate, I'm still alive. I'm good at it. 'Preciate you worryin' 'bout ol' Digger. Now put all that worry in yer pocket and get in here."

"You're not listening to me."

"Yeah?" He sees an opening and takes it. Reaching out and feeling his chest, he smirks. "Why dontcha get in here and make me listen, aye?"

Lawton does relax at his touch. His gaze softens. Boomerang snickers, adoring the affect he has on the man.

"Love it when ya miss me, c'mon, Floyd... Boss."

Floyd lets out a hum and finally smiles. Digger feels lighter as Lawton steps inside and closes the door. Even more so when he grabs and pulls Harkness in for a satisfying kiss.

Chapter Text

Arkham can suck the life out of her sometimes. Harley feels heavy. Her tightly knit bun is now messy and there are stains she does not want to think about on her clothes. She fumbles with her keys, dropping them twice before even inserting them into the hole. As Harley enters her abode, the smell of perfume overloads her senses. It definitely didn't smell bad. It was citrus. Then she notices flower peddles on the ground, mixed in with leaves from said flowers.

This had to be from George... or rather Digger, but that name is not sticking well. She had texted him her troubles and... her smile takes up her face. Following the trail it leads her into a drawn bath that is fizzy and bright blue from a bath bomb. She spies chocolates and a bottle of wine on the counter top. Her chest fills up with bubbling happiness.

"Digs!" She calls out. "You here?"

She can hear shuffling from her bedroom. She scurries over and nearly opens the door before her boyfriend- well, she isn't sure what to call him yet- on the other side slams it. "Yew can't come in yet!"

"Why not!"

"It ain't ready!"

"But I wanna seeeee youuuuu!"

"... Guess I can't deny you that."

The two met because their mutual friends set her up on a blind date with 'a new guy in town'. Harley had no idea they would be so literal. He shipped in from the land down under a few days prior, and it was definitely not love at first sight. But for Digger? He fell hard and fast. It was cute when he first saw her, his eyes got big and his mouth got small. Harley found herself charmed by his unconventional advances. He was awkward and can be kind of clumsy with his words but she can tell he meant well. He brought out the fun side of her and she considers that a wonderful positive. He has been striving to make this situationship work, despite her busy schedule. Harley wouldn't say she loved him quite yet, but so far all of this was working it's way towards convincing her. Even if he has a habit of being a bit of a degenerate with breaking into her house, instead of using the key she gave him. There ain't nothing romantic about comin' in the normal way, He said. If anything that habit has enlightened her about how insecure her home is and she has fixed that accordingly. When she told Digger, he grinned and told her you're welcome... but yer still gonna let me in right?

It must have pained him to go through the front door this time.

Finally, Digger squeezes through the gap and closes the door behind him. Harley also likes how tall he is. He gives her a toothy smile. "'Ello, Harl."

"Hey, cutie. Whatcha doin' in there?"

He preens. "Oh, uh, nothin' just... um... cleaning."

He is also a terrible liar. "Cleaning?"

"Yup! Cleanin'. It's a pig sty in there."

"Right, sure, the room I'm barely in is filthy."

"... Yep!"

"... Can I see?"

"No...? It's a surprise. And yer bath is gettin' cold, love."

Her stomach flutters at the pet name. "Is the surprise you?"

He grins impishly and wiggles his brows. "All that depends."

They have gotten intimate more than once. Harley does feel a little excited about that because of one reason: Digger actually knows what he's doing. It's not magic mike level of pleasure but she would consider it very close.
Harley has never had the best of luck when it comes to gratifying pleasure with most of the men she has dated. But when Digger said that he is good with his hands, he didn't mean just carpentry. She saw stars the first time he placed his hand down there and worked his thick fingers into her. They were a little too perfect to grind into and she finished faster than pleasuring herself would normally take her.

After the initial shock, she grabbed Digger and rode him like a bull.

Harley is thinking about that again right now. Getting off after a long day felt like exactly what she needed.

Did she want it now? Yes. But that bath is also calling her name.

Giggling, she gets onto her toes and puckers her lips. Digger acquiesces to her request, leaning down and kissing her.

"I'll- hang on a sec..." She sniffs him. "Is that my conditioner?"

His mouth wiggles around before speaking. "... Maybe?"

Calling Digger a slob would be too nice of a word. The man was a freeloader over at their mutual friend's place. What he creates occasionally sells in the market place downtown but it wasn't enough to make rent by himself. What she learned about him is that he barely has an education, let alone literate, due to his upbringing. Despite this, Digger always seems very happy. He told her he considers himself lucky to be able to get out of Australia.

However, Harley being who she is, she cannot turn her work brain off. She can see the man is struggling internally. She can tell he doubts himself, even though he has not personally told her. It's in his eyes and how his hands sometimes fidget when he speaks. He uses a rough exterior and toxic masculinity to hide how insecure he is.

She gave him a chance not to fix him, or because she pities him. They clicked almost instantly when they met. And she wanted to give him a friend who understands him.

"Was there something wrong with your shower?"

"Uh. Yeah, Waylon was in it. You know how he is."

"Yuh-huh. Sure. Did you take that wine from him too?"

Diggers face keeps getting redder. The man is a klepto too. Once learning that, she treating him leaving her apartment like she was part to the TSA. She didn't pat him down but she forced him to empty any and all pockets. She has never caught him with anything valuable or what she would consider creepy. Most if not all cases, it has been her perfume bottle. "I like how it smells." He told her. That she helped fix. She sprayed the fragrance on his shirt and sent him on his way. She doesn't use it that much anyway.

She learned much later that he has a tendency to be clingy. It wasn't just towards her, but to their friend group.

Harley chalks that up to abandonment issues combined with feeling uncomfortable being alone. June told her that the man refuses to wash the shirts Harley had sprayed. Only to find out later that he heats them up in the dyer, puts them all in a small pile on his bed, and falls asleep using the collective fabric on the pillow.

June found that creepy, but Harley can see in his perspective. He is a very lonely man that has been isolated for a majority of his life.

Harley can understand that to a T. Hell, she did that after her first boyfriend dumped her over text.

"What about the chocolates?" She adds.

Digger squirms. "Um..."

"Uh-huh... Remind me later that I owe June and Waylon, okay?"

"I... I can take 'em back..."

"Oh hell no, I need this more than them right now. I'll just say that I had no idea if they ask." He yanks him down into another kiss, earning her a weak squeak from him. "See you in a bit, sweetie."

He smiles dreamily at her. "Take yer time, love."

Chapter Text

Weather Wizard, stir the waves up so I can surf!

Hey Marco, make the wind stronger so I can throw Mick off his game.

Yo Wiz, I'm gonna get sun burnt, make a cloud, would ya?

Marco thought this was a vacation, not see how fast each Rogue can annoy him. He makes his way down the shoreline towards a giant rock formation. He stands where the water has carved out a significant hole and notices a small cave that has a puddle of water within. Marco crawls in and immediately the temperature shifts. The cold feels nice on his hot skin, cooling his anger. He settles down on the uneven surface and draws his knees up to his chest. He lets out a breath and allows his mind to relax. No more voices. No more favors. Just the sound of the ocean. On and off he has thought about why he joined the Rogues. With each passing day, he considers leaving.

"Oi! Marco? Where'd ya go, mate?"

Marco shrinks further into the cave, which honestly does not take much moving til his back hits the sharp wall.

The light coming into the cave disappears. "Marco?"

He does not need to look up to see Captain Boomerang.

"You didn't say polo."

Wizard just sighs.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You get that a lot... Just tryna..." Digger is silent for an uncharacteristically long time that Marco finally withdraws his face from his arms. The Aussie is just standing there with an expression he cannot see due to the sunlight shaping his outline. "Need me to leave you alone? Noticed you were gone... Wanted to check up on ya."

"... Is it just you?"

"Yeah, mate. Only me." He leans out for a moment. "Yea, don't think anyone else has noticed you left... or care that I left."

As long as it is only Digger... His body relaxes a little. "You must want something from me too, right?"

"Nah, mate. Saw how the clouds were brewin' over here. Figured you were gettin' peeved cuz e'eryone was botherin' ya. Like I said, was just checkin' in. I'll leave ya be." By his word, he turns around.

Marco calls after him. "Wait!"

Boomerang pokes his head back in. "Sup? You need an icy pole?"

"No... Actually..." He fidgets under Digger's smile. "I may be craving a paleta."

"I'll go get one for us. I'll be back."

As Boomer leaves, Marco crawls out into the open air and settles on the wet sand, soaking his feet in the small pool. Just as he says, none of the Rogues even acknowledge the Aussie as he walks over to the cooler, which is past the makeshift volleyball court, and back. Marco and Digger seem to have the opposite problems when it comes to this team. Wizard has too much attention on him while Boomerang cannot get anyone to listen. He was one of the more annoying members of the group besides Trickster and Top, but unlike them, Digger tries too hard to be likeable. He only joined just to belong somewhere. Marco can tell he has some underlying thoughts beneath his skin. His face is not the happy-go-lucky Digger he is used to. This one is stoic and distant but his expression changes when he sees Marco watching him. He grins as he hands Wizard the strawberry one as he sucks on the mango. Marco quietly thanks him and holds the popcicle in his hand to let it slightly melt before taking a bite.

The clouds are slowly whisked away by the wind. The waves gently touch the shore before receding. The two watch James eat shit on a wave and laugh to themselves.

"Sucks, dont it? Bein' wanted all the time." Digger eventually speaks.

Marco swallows his bite of the refreshing strawberry ice cream and hums. "They will all owe me later."

"Guess so..."

Marco knows that Digger is thinking without needing to ask. He edges closer to him and nudges his arm. Boomerang leans into him and rests his head onto his shoulder.

"But I am happy that you are spending time with me." He admits, genuinely. "You could have been playing volleyball with them."

"Top's a dirty cheat. He aint fun to play against. But uh... yeah, yer welcome."

"You know, Digs, it doesn't hurt to be genuine." He teases with a smile. "It's just us here. We're far enough away from them."

Digger hums, somewhat disgruntled. "I know..."

Marco decides to let the conversation slide again. This secret relationship only started a little over a month ago. He does not fault Digger from being cautious. He places a hand on his back and his thumb rubs his bare skin in small circles. With a little hum, Boomerang readjusts himself and gives him a swift kiss on his jaw.

"Ohh, gracias." He chuckles, "Feeling bold?"

His eyes look everywhere but at him. "Figured feelin', y'know, appreciated might help ya feel better."

Marco's smile softens. "You think I'm underappreciated?"

"Didn't hear any of those wankers out there mutter a bloody thank you for what you did. So yeah. Entitled, all of 'em."

"They can be that, I agree. That's why we're here... tensions are running too high."

"No thanks to Cold and Top..." He remarks bitterly.

"Hmmm... you're not wrong." He gives the Aussie a light squeeze. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine." He replies quick.

Marco gives him a lopsided look and sighs. "... Which one of them insulted you?"

He grunts, chewing the last of his ice cream. "It ain't nothin', mate."

"It clearly is if you're in this much of a mood."

"I don't need ya doin' yer weather thing as payback. I'll do it meself. Just gotta figure out what."

Wizard feels his face heat up. "Knowing you, it's going to borderline a crime and we'll have to vacate our vacation. Was it Roscoe?"

Digger finally looks his way. "How'd you figure him?"

"If it was Snart, you'd have a black eye. What did Roscoe say to you?"

The man picks up a stone and chucks it into the water. "It was just somethin' he said to piss me off, ain't nothin'."

"Digs." Marco takes him by the chin and gently turns his head towards him. "What did he say?"

His big green eyes shift from side to side like a guilty pup. "... We were comin' in the hotel and y'know, checkin' in. Cold said we were all gettin' five rooms so someone's gonna have to be off on their own. Top asked why and Snart said it was because we had nine people. Top did a head count then, when he saw me, he said, 'Oh yeah, forgot you were here'."

Wizard blinks. "What the hell was I doing? How did I miss that?"

"You were somewhere with Lisa. Cold wanted all of us to gather together to draw straws or whatever for the one bed and Top bloody volunteered me cuz I snored in the van."

"Well, you did, but that... Where is Roscoe?" He stands up and looks to see they are all still playing volleyball: Roscoe, Mick, Sam, Lisa and Hartley is on the edge as referee.

Boomerang snatches his wrist and tries to tug him back down. "Mate, don't! He's gonna figure us out if you do that."

"Not if I take out all of them." Marco says with a mischievous glint in his eye as he takes his wand out of his pocket.

Digger gawks up at him in a way that makes his heart gallop. "You gonna use a wave?"

"I was thinking about it."

"I hope a jellyfish lands of Top."

"I would rather have him not in anaphylactic shock or deathly ill, as much as we would probably want him to be... I don't want to be responsible for ruining our stay." He flicks his wand to the left, and the waves react, drawing backwards.

Getting up, Digger stretches his back. "Nnnuhhm, Lisa would get over it."

"Digger, don't make me throw you into the water too."

"What she needs is better taste. Like me. I've got great taste." He nudges his hip.

Marco scoffs, shaking his head. The compliment made him feel warm, though. "Good save."

He gives him a sickeningly sweet albeit cute grin. "Ta."

He swishes his wand to the right and the water follows suit, dashing onto the shore. Hartley seems to be the only one who noticed but instead of shouting, he runs away towards their chairs instead. The wave destroys the volleyball court before returning to the ocean, leaving behind five sprawled out bodies. Trickster had been brought back to land but his surfboard is nowhere to be seen... or his shorts.

Captain Boomerang snorts and laughs as Weather Wizard snatches him and hurries him behind the rocks before the frustrated Top could spot them. Digger doubles over, unable to breathe. "Did ya see how he flailed gettin' that seaweed off?! Bloody idiot!"

Marco smiles big, giggling. "They're so furious!"

"You saw how Cold was tryna not to bust his gut laughin'?! And Hartley ran like a dipstick! You're perfect, Marco."

Wizard stops laughing all together. His heart feels ready to pop. "What did you say?"

"I-I said it was perfect! Brilliant." He clears his throat. He cannot hide his nervous twitches. "We should probably make tracks if they decide to come over here 'n look."

Digger called him perfect. Of course, he cannot repeat himself, but Marco has other ways of lowering his guard... "Let's head back to the hotel. Have some alone time in your room."

"Yea, that sounds good-" Digger straights up and looks at him with his mouth pulling down on his face. "Wha- alone time? In my room? My room that's got a single bed and on a completely different floor, that one?"

Marco bites his amusement. "I dunno, if that sounds so uncomfortable to you, we can both retire to our separate-"

"Ahhh! Nah! No, my room's nice and um, quiet. Let's go." Although trying to appear nonchalant, Boomerang hurries towards the stairs.

Chapter Text

Edward has been locked up in his office for three- no, four hours now. Had to be making up some silly puzzles for the Batman. Of course, Digger can get away with calling them ridiculous when he's alone. Usually, he busies himself with going out or catching up on a show, which inevitably leads to him falling asleep. Today, however, it was snowing and Digger despises snow. He was not about to go outside and brave it for a quick beer run. Nothing was on TV either and he has made sure to check every channel before getting bored in the middle of that task and chucking the remote onto the cushions.

He isnt allowed to bother Edward when the office door is closed. That was one of the many house rules Nygma has. It took Digger plenty of earfuls until it was finally engrained in his mind. He still wanted to see him.

In the past, Riddler has opened the door a few times while he was standing outside just waiting there, like a dog with separation anxiety. Digger always delighted in his shocked facial expressions. He will even swoop in and give him a fast kiss. Edward melts every time.

"Should I even ask?" He would ask.

And Digger would play along. "I wouldn't."

"You need to find some hobbies."

"My favorite hobby keeps lockin' 'emself in here."

"Aside from me!" Edward's laugh is the greatest gift he has ever received.

Right now, Boomerang is in the kitchen, staring at the fridge. They had went on a grocery trip yesterday before the storm hit, but nothing is calling to him. Still, it was past five. He should make something for Edward. He can make a sandwich. That's always easy. Riddler is always very particular about his food though. No onions on anything. Eggs have to be made to perfection and with the correct amount of salt. Toast has to be slightly crispy and hot enough to spread butter across. Cucumbers must be evenly spread out in a salad... Digger loves this man but god is he impossible to please when it comes to cooking. Boomerang isn't much of a chef either but since he can't order out...

He huffs. "Guess I'm bloody dealin' with the food critic."

Digger isn't hard to please. Strawberry jam with ham, a cheese slice, and mustard on toast suits him just fine. That choice makes Edward gag looking at it. He always refuses to kiss him afterwards.

He is such a big baby... Digger takes a big bite of his already made sandwich and starts prepping Edward's. Riddler yells at him less if he is bringing food. Telling him 'I could have done that', Digger knows the man could go on without eating for a full day.

He flips the fried egg and salt and peppers the other side. He lets it cook as he puts two whole grain slices into the toaster and pushes the lever down. He lifts his arms up to the sky and stretches out his back, groaning. This brings out a yawn from him.

He hates that Edward becomes so engrossed in his work. "I don't hate it. I just... i miss him."

And it isn't that Edward doesn't prioritize their time together. He does. A bit too well. He loves to plan their dates as big events. He definitely likes to treat the Aussie, and Digger does his best to treat him. It is just never as grandiose but Edward never seems to mind his lack of budget.

The toast pops up and Digger takes them and puts them on the plate. He grabs the pan by the handle and carefully eases the egg onto the bread. Setting the pan into the sink (he'll get fussed at otherwise), he flips the other slice onto the top pf the fried egg. Almost forgot! He snags a can of iced tea from the fridge. With his hands full, he knocks with his slipper. When that does not arouse a sound from Riddler, he puts the can underneath his arm and opens the door himself.

He finds Edward at his desk, fiddling with some gadget. He has not noticed his presence, even though he is standing right next to his chair. He carefully sets the plate down first and scooches it to where Riddler would see it. Edward must be deep in thought as he uses what looks like a screwdriver to fix the position of a gear. Digger leans down and kisses his head. "Made ya dinner, Eddy."

"Huh? Oh...! So you have... Than..." As he looks up, his head wanes too far to the side. Digger catches him before his body follows suit in trying to fall out of the chair.

"Edward! Shit, mate, you alright?"

Riddler blinks hard, rubbing his fingers into his temple. "I'm fine. Albeit dizzy..."

"Eat, love. Yer hungry."

"I... I don't feel... quite right." His eyes flutter.

He grits his teeth. "Strewth, love. Yer workin' yerself to death that's why!"

"I am not...!" He bites back with a groan. "Get me some painkillers, dear... I'll be right as rain."

"Yeah nah, I don't believe that." Gearing up for an exaggerated reaction, he leans down and scoops the man up into his arm and carries him out of his office.

"George Harkness, put me down!" He groans, pressing his head into his shoulder. "I'm so dizzy..."

Worry gnaws at his chest. He sets him down on the couch and, as Edward tries to stand, he shoves him back into the cushion. "Nuh-ah! Stay!"

"Harkness-!"

"I don't wanna hear it! You sit there and stay." He begins backing away. "Staaaaay... Staaaaaaaaaay. Good boy."

"Dont good boy me." He hears him grumble while retrieving his dinner.

Boomerang sits beside him and holds the sandwich up to his mouth. "Have a nibble."

Edward sneers at him. He looks so sad, sitting there with his head pushed into the pillow. His eyes are cloudy.

He removes his glasses and places them on the table. "Don't bloody give me that. You haven't eaten all day! Don't make me give it to ya like a bird."

Disgusted, Riddler does wrap his mouth and bites into the sandwich. He lets out a little grunt, tasting it. "Bit too much pepper..."

Here it comes. Digger sighs. "Look, mate, I tried-"

"I didn't say I hated it." He squeezes his eyes shut in a grimace.

"Ahhh, nooo... Still dizzy?"

"Yessss, I can't swallow. I feel sick..." His poor whines forms a pit in his stomach.

"You feel sick cuz you haven't flamin' eaten." Digger sets the plate down and gently encourages Edward to lie down. "There ya go, my beautiful. Any better?"

"Mmmhm..." He finally swallows the bite in his mouth.

"You gotta stop to break, Eddy. Don't like seein' ya all scrunched up and tired."

"I'll regain my strength soon."

"And yew need ta take better care of yerself." He pets his head like Riddler would do when he feels ill. "My poor Eddy."

"Hmph-please, don't touch me. It's all very overstimulating."

He rips his hand away with a quick apology. He reaches and moves the sandwich over to his face. "Take another bite, darl."

Groaning, Riddler does so and puts his arm over his eyes.

"Diiiiggssss..." He whinges.

"What is it, love?"

"It's too bright in hereeee..."

"I'll settle it. Yew just keep eatin'." As he heads for the light switch, he noticed that he forgot to turn the stove off and quickly remedies that. He flicks off the lights.

"Diiiigssss."

Digger smiles, "Yeah, Ed?"

"I'm cold... can you get me a blanket?"

"Which one?"

"The thin one. It's in the closet."

Boomerang enters their bedroom and scans the upper shelf in the closet. Finding the blue blanket, he pulls it down, knocking over a few empty boxes in the process that belong to some of Edward's thing. You never know when you'll need them! He told Harkness. Digger just thinks his little habits as cute.

He lays the blanket across his lower torso. Riddler has already eaten half of his sandwich. That settles a bit of his anxiety.

"Diiiiiigggsss...?" Edward moans, dramatically.

"Yes, gorgeous?"

That earns him a smile. "Can you get me a drink?"

"I already got you one. You want a straw?"

"Yes, please."

Digger returns with a silicone straw and dips it into the can before handing it to him.

He swallows his sip. He lifts his arm from his face "This is tea... How did you know...?"

"Because I know you, Ed."

Edward pouts in his smile. "Thank you."

"Course..."

"Diiiigs?" He says sweetly.

Love is such an overpowering emotion for Digger. He wants to scoop the man up and try to return the feeling Edward is giving him. "Mmmm?"

"Can I have a kiss?"

"Sure can." He dips down and pecks his lips.

"Oh god, your breath...! You ate that horrible jam and-and cheese- the mustard! Eugh!"

Digger rolls his eyes. "And you taste like egg. What's the problem?"

"It's awfuuul!" He giggles through his bitching. "Go brush your teeth!"

"I already kissed ya! It's too late now."

He briefly sticks his tongue out before taking another bite. "Horrible..."

"You just worry about eatin', Eddy."

Riddler hums, looking from his meal to him. "Thank you for making this for me. I am aware I can be a hassle."

"Yeah, but yer my hassle."

Edward snorts and laughs. "I don't think you can somehow be more corny, Digs."

"You bring it out in me, love."

Chapter Text

Edward managed to withdraw from his work in the basement to take the elevator. He has never minded the speed but right now he is thinking about getting into the lift's wires and changing the speed. Harkness came back to the Hall an hour ago, wounded. If this was any other day, Boomerang would be back out into the field under ten minutes but it came to Riddler's attention that the man was enduring horrible frostbite and a concussion.

When the platform finally reached the upper level, Edward hops down. But when he starts to hurry over to Boomerang's gurney, he abruptly halts his run to a walk. He reminds himself that their relationship is not exactly out to the help, not that it was any of their business. Edward did not need their judgement. He doesn't need government agents teasing him when he cannot retaliate. He quickly resumes his more naturally smug swagger and makes his way into the ward.

"What do you want, Nygma?" Dr. Kolchak asks, stepping in front of him with her hands on her hips.

"Oh, settle down. I'm not going to touch him. I'm simply curious about this Elseworld's frostbite." He attempts to step around her but gets a clipboard to his chest.

"Dr. Fries and I have looked him over. It's typical frostbite." She pushes him back. "I really don't need you riling him up while he's recovering."

"Well! Dr. Fries and I should really compare notes sometimes, because I have found bacteria that is disguising itself as harmless germs when it is defrosted, but sure let's pretend that that won't be a problem in the future."

She narrows her eyes. "Are... you serious?"

"As a heart attack." He brings out his portable computer from his pocket. After opening the document, he shoves it into her hand. "See? I'm also suspecting Lex-2 is also harboring these specimens. Why do you think he is not physically here, mmm?"

"I... I need to have a better look at this."

"Of course, go right ahead. In the meantime..." He slips by the doctor. Digger looks better than the worst case scenario, given that he has been under medical watch, but that does not stop his anxiety from giving him heart palpitations. He looks drugged out of his mind. "Hello, darling..." He calls softly.

His eyes lazily gaze towards him. His heart monitor briefly spikes at the sight of him. Digger gives him a lopsided smile. "Hiiiiiii Eeeeddyyy..."

"Hi." He restrains his laugh, trying to not melt at the sweetness. "They have you on some strong stuff, don't they?"

"Mmmmmhmmmmmmm, feels goooood... I got hurt real bad."

"I heard. Let's see what all you're here for." He grabs the small stack of paper from the sleeve hanging off the end of the bed. "Minor to moderate concussion... How's your head?"

"Ain't hurtin' no more cuz of de drugs..." He slurs. "Doc said to rest. Can you get me a tinnie?"

"I'm afraid alcohol is not being prescribed to help your treatment."

"Damn..."

"Possible bone fractures..." He glances at Boomerang's bandaged up arm and chest. "Level two frostbite... How are you the only one sustaining injuries...?" Edward mumbles.

"Big bloody bomber bombed me into the bloody ocean..." Harkness groans, trying to stretch his neck but the constraints keeping him attached to the bed make that difficult. "Missed me shiverin' like a flamin'... flamin'... thing."

"No one tried to catch you?" Anger gnaws at his face, making his mouth twitch.

"Don't rememb-ah... Oiii... Eddy. Could use some stimulation. I'm bored here. No one will let me move."

"It's for your own safety, Captain. You need to stay still and rest." And I need to speak with a certain doctor...

"You know what'll help warm me up?"

"What's that?"

"A quickie..."

Blush dusts over his cheeks. "Digger. We are in public."

"No one's lookin'."

"There are two children in the vicinity. No."

"Awwhhh... thought it'd be a nice treat for ol' Digger nearly dyin'..."

Edward clears his throat, glancing around to make sure no one is listening in. "That can be... later. When you're fully recovered. And in private."

"I love you, Eddy..."

His heart swells up like a balloon. He shouldn't be, but now he is wondering that after killing all the Brainiacs, if Boomerang will have the courage to say that phrase publicly to him, sober. "I..."

"Christ, how doped up is he?" Colonel Flag snickers, stopping his mindless patrol.

"He is on the strongest medication A.R.G.U.S. has." Edward answers, annoyed.

"And what are you doing?" He asks, mimicking his tone.

"Conducting my own experiment." He adds with mock cheerfulness. "I'm sure Dr. Kolchak wants to show you and our Director what I've found."

Rick Flag squints at him as if he is staring down a pesky unkillable fly before meandering over to the doctor.

Riddler clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Mouth breathing fools..."

"Edward...? Am I dyin'?"

"No, my dear. You should be fine. After you are mostly healed, we'll get you disinfected."

"I hate that I can't touch you."

Edward frowns as he fights off his impending disappointment that Digger won't be coming down to 'bother' him any time soon. "I'll miss that too."

"You'll come see me, yea?"

"I'll try to."

"Can I get a kissie?" He puckers his lips up.

He mentally slaps his hand that is begging to touch his hair. "When we don't have eyes on us, Digs. I will." Edward forces himself away to dominate the conversation between the two A.R.G.U.S. members and to distract himself from the hurt in his heart.

Chapter Text

Digger could hardly contain himself, driving through the crowded downtown street to get to his spot in the race.

“Woowww…” Harley looks all around, unable to stay in her seat. “You know, I’ve been in Gotham since forever but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this big-a turnout before. I mean, I guess it is the last one for the year, so it makes sense why there’d be this many people.”

“And the cash.” Digger reminds her.

“Mmmmhm! How muchya wanna bet someone’s gonna try to make off with the prize? Honestly, I’m more surprised you didn’t do that.”

“What?! That spoils the spirit of racin’, Harl! That prize is earned.”

She grins at his determination. “Jeez, this really got you all stirred up, huh?”

“Course! I haven’t raced since I was a kid!”

"You're not gonna get all rusty on me, are ya?" She teases, playfully.

"Yer askin' if Captain Boomerang rusts?" With a wild look in his eyes, he revs his engine with the rest of the cars. "Digger don't rust, love."

“YEEEHAWWW! ATTA BOY!” She grabs her pistol and waves it in excitement. “Let’s get that CASH!”

The flag girl walks out in the middle of the cars, signaling the count down before throwing her flags into the air. Flying out of the starting line, Harley grabs hold of the ceiling handle and Digger navigates through the crowd of cars as they collectively take narrow turns into slim streets.

“Why ain’t ya rammin’ into them?!”

“We’d get disqualified if I do that now! It’s the rules of the race– SHIT!” Digger pulls out and into the sidewalk to avoid an oncoming sports car. They watch the vehicle take out two of the other racers in front of them.

“You know what? Disqualification makes sense." She nods as they work their way by them. "That was just plain stupid.”

“Yeh, it weeds out the idiots… Once we get to this checkpoint at Perkins, hell breaks loose. Don’t poke yer head out til I tell ya.”

“You’re the boss, boss! This is definitely more controlled than a typical police chase.”

“Hohoho! Wait till the cops show up!”

As they turn onto Perkins, an onslaught of gunfire breaks up the roaring engines as they speed down the highway. Harley sees the vehicles ahead of them abruptly stop. “Boomie!”

However, Boomer is already reacting before she speaks. He expertly switches lanes and uses the momentum to ram their side into the stopping truck, where the driver side door was open. The impact crushes the door alongside the driver who was attempting to jump out onto their vehicle. Harley watches the truck spin out behind them. Grinning, she smacks his arm. “Damn, Digs!”

“Fuck yeah! Start shootin’, Harls!”

“Finally–” Harley rolls the window down and perches herself upon it. Aiming ahead, she blows out one of the competitors' back wheels with three shots. A bullet whizzes past her head. She turns and immediately fires upon another sportscar. Seeing their passenger pop out with a machine gun, she squeaks and ducks back inside. “The guys behind us got a turret!”

“Bloody course they do! Get down!”

Harley dives into the foot area of her seat. As the shots fire into their truck, Digger ducks his head and he pulls out his own gun. Trying to keep on the road and not die and fire back is much harder than he thought it would be. He feels a bullet singe his wrist and he yells, dropping his pistol. The weapon clatters onto the seat and Harley quickly snatches it and pops out of her hiding spot. She switches Boomer’s gun to auto.

“You keep drivin’, Captain, I got this!”

Extending her hand out, she eyes where the bullets are hitting and angles the pistol accordingly. It did not take long after spraying bullets that she heard a harsh cry and tires skidding.

“Holy shit!” Digger exclaims, easing away from the railing.

“You’re welcome!” She hops into her seat and climbs out. Another checkpoint flies by them that is hanging from a road sign.

“How many are in front of us, Harl?!”

“Maybe three??” She squints. “I think one of them just turned off the highway!”

“Hang on!” Digger presses further on the gas and crosses into the right most lane. Harley continues her assault before getting an idea.

“Hey! Pedal to the metal, Digs!”

“I’m tryin’!”

Harley completely exits the truck and crawls on top of the roof and down the hood.

His heart flies to his mouth. “Harley?!”

She waves him to keep up the speed. Before they reach the exit, Harley jumps on top of the neighboring car. The impact of her fall alerts the passenger, but Harley shoots the passenger in the skull the moment her head peered over the roof. Hearing the driver curse, an SMG emerges from the window and Harley hits the deck as it fires above her. She fires two shots at the arm. With the driver distracted with the oncoming ramp, Harley holds on and waits until they are on the next street before crawling forward. She gives a thumbs up to Boomer who is now trying to keep up with her. She giggles at the panic on his face.

She dips her head down to the driver's side. “Hey hun!” And fires her last bullet into their neck. Hurrying, she gets up and leaps over, successfully grabbing onto the truck’s pickup. She hauls herself inside the cargo bed and wobbles to stand upright. She opens the small window in the back. “Didja SEE that?!”

“That was beautiful, Harl! You almost made me shit me-self.”

“You’re acting like I’ve never been in a chase before!”

“I saw you fly off a car, Harl!” He yells back. “Twice! And I had to save ya arse the second time! Is there anyone behind us?”

Harley looks back. “No! We’re clear!”

“Then get up here! And be flamin’ careful, Ivs’ll kill me!”

“Yeah, she will!” Harley jumps onto the roof again and makes her way into the front seat. She reloads her magazine. “How long we got?”

“We just passed another checkpoint. I think there’s two more…”

“How have no police come by to run us down?”

That thought also stuns Boomer. “I-I have no idea…!”

“Damn, I was kinda hopin’ they’d show up after I said that. They usually do! Whatever–” They zoom by a two car wreck. “Was that the last two guys?!”

“Nah! There’s some others up ahead. I think some cocky bastard has nitro. Dontcha hear it?”

Harley listens for it. “I do now!" She grabs the ceiling handle. "Try to keep the truck steady, alright?”

“Don't do it yet!” The tires skid horribly as Digger makes a sharp right turn that nearly spins them out. Harley hits the back rest with enough force that she briefly sees stars. Boomer points at the bright blue electric car that is now slowing down. “That’s him!”

She aggressively shakes her head and looks. “The guy with a friggin’ ROCKET launcher?!”

“Shit!” Digger starts swerving. A rocket blast pops their right back wheel. He yells as he fights for control. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!”

“He’s reloading! Gas it!” Harley peeks out with her pistol and shoots rounds into the blue car’s tires. Whatever the tires were made of, they are taking the bullets without repercussion. Harley tries the driver window. The electric car veers to the left, getting closer to them. The driver side door swings open and he leans out with an SMG. Digger yelps as the windshield gets sprayed, a few of the bullets flying into the truck.

“Keep it steady!” Harley screams over the onslaught, blindly firing her gun.

“I’m bloody trying!”

Suddenly, another rocket blast assaults their ears but to their surprise it was not their truck that was flying. The blue car soars above their heads and lands behind them sliding through an intersection.

“HAHAAAA! It was a Prius!” Digger barks with laughter. “What a loser!”

“Serves him right!”

They fly through the last checkpoint with three remaining cars behind them. However, none of them could get to their placement in time before their truck crossed the finish line into first place. Boomer jerks the vehicle in reverse and spins the truck until finally coming to a stop. Once it does, that does not put a pause into Harley’s excited hollering and laughing. She yanks Boomer by the collar into her lips and he energetically surges into her, attempting to crawl into her lap.

Chapter Text

John was supposed to come in on Saturday for this "gardening" job. He had missed the bus heading for the small dutch town. John decided to 'borrow' a car and made his way there. The town was far from the airport and he didn't exactly have the directions either. He stared blankly at the locals when they spoke. Eventually, he found someone willing to write down the directions, instead of turning him away. He arrived at the house just before midnight. He parked the car on the side of the road, close to the bus stop. The email stated that he can rest in the shed, there is a bed for him there. And to NEVER enter the house.

He didn't trust the sender but that is why he took the job. It rubbed him the wrong way. There was something else that was more sinister to this area. It was teeming with bad energy.

After two hours of sleeping, the smell of blood woke him up, firing up his curiosity. It is coming from the back of the house past that rotten wood that is blocking the way. John tears it down with ease to find another yard and car. The blood is coming from beyond the hedges that surrounds the house and garden. John grabs the shears from the shed and makes his own exit (since the bridge to the garden fell apart after he walked across it. Great signs that he is welcomed here.) He walks through the hole he made and follows the dirt road towards a house on the water. The stench is getting stronger and worse, familiar. John breaks into a sprint. He whips the door open to see a horribly bloody scene.

It was an interrogation gone wrong. Blood everywhere, even on the ceiling. Two bodies are on the floor. Bullet holes and boomerangs decorate the walls. John has become desensitized to these sights, it comes with the occupation. However, when he sees that one of the dead bodies is Captain Boomerang, he feels his heart sink to his feet.

"Why is it always you, lad?" John asks his corpse. He has seen the man dead more than he can count on one hand. It was a habit at this point. The world didn't want him alive and yet he kept coming back, like his namesake.

"What are ya doin' here, mate?" The Aussie asks, but his voice does not come from his corpse. John looks to see his ghost perched on a nearby bench, looking out towards the lake. A doberman sits at his feet and gnaws on a bone. Most likely the watch dog for this abode. His form flickers in the moonlight. Everything about him lacked color. His once pretty green eyes now sullen and black. His incorporeal form harbors the recent wounds he received before death claimed him. His chest has a gaping hole in it, his neck and nose are bent.

Constantine frowns and pockets his hands. "Could ask you the same."

"Shit's classified." He states bluntly.

"Right..." He glances towards the crime scene. It was fresh. Hardly a day old. If John came when he was supposed to... "Looks pretty bad in there."

"Yeah, kinda messed up. Said the wrong things. Then again, wasn't supposed to talk, but they weren't gonna give us what Waller wanted! I had to do something!"

"Don't think you had to." John mutters to himself, closing the door. "Who was your other mate?"

"Floyd. Dunno where that bastard went."

"Didn't feel like going after him?"

Digger shrugs. "Been left behind more times than I can count on both hands... I got bloody tired, so just sittin'."

Boomerang seems completely unaware of his death. The dog being able to see him may have something to do with that. Ghosts typically feel a sense of placation or generally aloof and the Aussie does not seem particularly inclined to move too far away from his body. Constantine thinks about bursting his bubble but his tongue ties instead. "You two came by earlier?"

"What? Oh, yea. Yabbos weren't there this morning so we had a wander around. Weird place this."

John has time then.

"You didn't say why you're here."

"Was offered a job. Here to appease a few irritated spirits."

"Uh-huh... Why dontcha go do that then? I'm busy." The doberman barks at John as if backing up Boomerang's statement. The convict smiles. "Yeh, tell him, Fido."

"You don't want to come?" John isn't sure why he asks when he already knew the answer.

"Nahh, perfectly fine to laze around 'ere. They usually remember to come get me in a day or two."

"I can send you there, you know." He adds, merely out of curiosity.

"Yeah? Then I'd owe ya. No offense, mate, but I rather not owe ya anythin'." Digger processes what he says for another moment. "Why do you care?"

You know why, he wanted to shout. "When I work, it gets dangerous."

Boomerang snorts. "Awww, worried about ol' Digger, Johnny? That's cute. I live and breath danger! You forget where I'm from? Don't gotta worry about me none. I'm content here."

"Suit yourself." John carries on, pausing when he is standing directly behind the convict. Part of him feels guilty despite knowing there is a chance to save his life. Boomerang always gets himself killed one way or another. With a heavy heart, the occultist forces himself to walk.

Constantine wakes up in bed and jerks upright. He catches a glimpse of a tall pale faced man staring at him through the window before dashing away. The door to the shed aggressively shakes with each profound knock. The occultist trips over himself to burst outside only to see that the tall man vanished. Yesterday, John discovered that his magic is dulled here, no doubt due to the spirits toiling with the place. Even as he waves his hand around to locate what was definitely a spirit, he feels a buzz in his head that is worse than a hangover.

He spent the entire Sunday exploring the town. He tried to engage in the locals again but none of them were interested in speaking to him. He found one watching him through the window before hiding behind the curtains. They did not open the door when he knocked. That's fair. The food truck was closed all day, as much as he would have loved a bite to eat. As he walked through the church courtyard, he could feel that it was brimming with energy, sucking John dry. There is definitely something he needed to see beyond the chapel door but for some reason it was closed. On a Sunday? Very strange. He checked out the gas station on the other side of the road to find it closed. He peaked inside the nearby ferry to find Floyd's dead body underneath one of the dining tables, but his ghost wasn't there. Nothing was tethering him to the earth, Constantine concluded, or his ghost wondered off. Either way, there was not much he can do for him.

John was not a stranger to starving throughout the day. He weeded through the trash and ended up stealing a slice of pizza from some teenagers. When he did finally fall asleep, he received a vision from his client trapped inside of an orb. He could just barely make his words out. Something about tending to the garden to find what he's looking for? He figures it would be worth a shot.

The weekend restarted. John appreciates that the loop put him in bed instead of the car. It has been a while since he has done any kind of outdoor labor that was PHYSICAL labor not magical. He is already sweating but he refuses to take his coat off.

The morning sun beats upon him as he clips the hedges. Behind him he can hear... cackling? He pauses and looks around for a moment. He hears a magpie chirp that briefly calls his attention. It sounded like a call for help. Pursing his lips with a hum, he continues albeit slower until he hears that impish giggle again. He whips around and his eyes lay upon a garden gnome standing guard in front of a bed of dead flowers.

"Ahuh, it's you, ain't it?" John addresses the gnome but he is offered no reply. "It's always a bloody garden gnome." He picks the statue and flips it around in his hands. "But you ain't gonna tell me where your idol is, are ya? No? Yeah... guess we'll do this the hard way."

Constantine drops it onto the grass. Upon shattering into big pieces, the gnome lets out one last and more menacing chuckle.

"Shit, man, what did he do to you?"

The occultist jumps and looks to see Waller's grunts: Floyd Lawton and a much more alive Digger Harkness.

John swipes a coin among the porcelain pieces and holds it up. "He owed me money." He states with a smile. "Fancy seein' you two here."

"Can't say the same for you." Lawton replies gruffly. His body language stiff and unconvinced.

"Yeah, no one ever really happy to see me. Right, Harkness?"

Captain Boomerang was not paying attention, itching his inner ear with his pinkie as he looks over the house to his left, until he called him by name. "Wut?"

Digger does not appear to remember anything before the loop. John points at him with his thumb as he addresses Deadshot. "Actually, can I borrow him?"

"Borrow him?"

"Awh, hell no! I ain't goin' anywhere with you!" Laying the disdain a bit too thick there, Harkness.

Constantine gives them one of his more charming smiles. "You're both heading towards that house on the docks, right? You don't need him for the interrogation, Lawton. With him, things are gonna go south faster than-"

"Oi! How did you know what we're here for?! You got that from that magic shit?" Harkness puts his hands on his head, eyes big in realization. Did that jog his memory-? "You don't read minds, do ya?" Nevermind.

Deadshot leers for a moment then his shoulders relax. "You know what? Take him."

The Aussie gawks with his mouth open. "What the hell, Floyd?! Floyd!"

"Don't act like you weren't trying to bail out of here earlier, Harkness." Lawton snaps at him before turning away. He hops over the gate and heads through the church's cemetery.

"They're not at the house yet, by the way!" Constantine calls out to him. "All you're gonna find there is a mad dog. I'd wait it out."

Despite his skeptical glare, Floyd nods and carries on without a word. John feels a minute wave of relief to see Digger sneering at him. He scoffs and spins on his heels to walk back towards the bridge. "Thanks for bloody nothin', Johnny. I'm outta here."

"Ah-ah," He grabs the convict by the wrist before he could get too far. "You're stuck with me, love." He pouts as the Aussie tries to get maneuver his hand out from him. "C'mon, mate, we're alone now. Drop the act."

Digger finally retrieves his hand and cross his arms. "I'm narked at cha."

"Yea, I can tell. What did I say?"

"You git! You called me useless! What do you think you said?!"

His face twitches and he sighs. "Digger, I found you dead in that house."

His anger disappears in an instant. "... You what?"

"I came here- tomorrow, Sunday. I was supposed to arrive yesterday- which is today. I smelled something off and I found you and someone else dead."

Digger blinks in confusion, grimacing. "You... mean Floyd?"

"Found Floyd dead on the ferry that was supposed to leave that night. Got four spirits at play here, Digger. We can't leave-and if we try, we die and get sent back to the beginnin' of a loop, so I need your help. We only have today and Sunday. I figured it was best to let Floyd do his thing and then stop him before he gets on the ferry."

Boomerang nods. "Yeah, that's... Sounds good." His lips tug down. "How did I die?"

"You went down fighting. Bloke there must have taken advantage of the small space and snagged a boomerang from you, it was lodged in your chest. Your ghost was there but you didn't know you were dead. You didn't really express any emotions. Told me you were tired." He wants to be completely desensitized to his own emotions. He shouldn't be feeling guilt or be upset, especially when his loved ones are in danger. He is supposed to be used to loneliness by now, but seeing Digger like that... it still hurts.

"Oii... get outta yer head, Johnny." Digger cups his face and leans in for a kiss that John returns eagerly. He holds him by his waist and pulls him in, needing more of his touch. Constantine can handle long distance. Hurts less that way. Don't have to worry so much about upkeep when both parties have busy jobs. It's rare when him and Waller's Suicide Squad are in the same area. When they are, John tends to be a bit clingy. Boomerang is the same as ever, feeling and grabbing him wherever he can. They push as they open their mouths to taste each other. Harkness' distinct musk combined with cigarettes and alcohol from his tongue reminds John of home. He melts when the Aussie fondles the little hair on the back of his neck. He hikes one of Digger's legs up just so he can step further into him. The man giggles and moans more out of contentment than arousal.

"I'm here, love." Boomerang soothes him when they finally break, tucking his hands underneath his overcoat and rubbing his back. He kisses just under his ear. "I'm alive."

He squeezes his waist. "For now, you are..."

"That's worth somethin', ain't it?" He tries to lighten to mood, nudging his chin with his knuckles. He takes his hands into his. "C'mere, I can get us inside that house and you can make love to Digger-"

"As much as I'd love that, we're on a time limit."

Harkness clicks his tongue. "And what's stoppin' us from screwin' around before the loop starts again, aye? You said time loop, right? If I forget, you can just fill me in again, nothin' really all that lost... Come onnnnn Johnnyyyyy~" He wiggles his brows for emphasis as he grins. "Digger wants to try out some moves he thought up~"

"Startin' to think you're a bloody incubus, darlin'." He smiles just as mischievously. He should be saying no but damn is his heart and body and mind screaming yes. "Always tryin' to tempt me."

"Shit, I am pretty good at that. Maybe I should switch careers."

As difficult as it is, John finally manages to pull himself away. "After, we'll have a go after."

"Damn!" Boomerang throws his head back. "I almost had ya...! I saw it!"

"As hot as it would be fuckin' in a continuous loop, we wouldn't get any work done, you know that? I'll explain the same damn thing and you'd spring the same bloody question."

"What's wrong with that?" He flirts to slither his way back into his heart, rocking on his heels.

"We both need money, Digger."

"Aww, that's cute. Johnny thinks I'm gettin' paid!"

"Alright, listen, mate I'll make it up to you. I'll come up with something so you can linger behind when we're done here." The occultist adds, sensually. "I'd prefer to take my time with you."

His brows raise high above his head and Constantine imagines something else is perking up too. Digger can hardly stand still. "Ooohohohohoo! Wouldja?! Bloody hell, let's get this done then! What you need me ta do, Johnny?"

Chapter Text

Underneath the Hall of Justice and inside his closed off space, Edward mumbles to himself as he works on another AR course for the squad. This new team member Lawless has anti-gravity on her side, which is giving him great ideas on how to go about- hands cover his vision.

"Guesss whooooo~?" Digger's grin is present in his tone.

However, Riddler does not smile back. "I'm in the middle of something, Harkness."

"Aughh, this won't take long, Ed! Say, remember that look I was talkin' to ya about?"

Edward blanches. "Oh god, the spandex and the hairdo that pays homage to the golden age? Boomer... you didn't."

"Hahaha! Take a gander, Eddy!"

Gritting his teeth, Edward slowly swivels his chair around and... has no idea where to look first. He dyed his hair back to his natural color and styled it similar to Superman's haircut. His muttonchops are cleanly shaven and- no wonder Digger has been avoiding him. He's been growing a mustache! And so quickly? He must have gotten his hands on some kind of growing serum... His goggles are a bit, well, far be it from someone who names himself THE Riddler to call the accessory dorky. His gaze travels down his glistening spandex- he bites his tongue not to tell Boomer off that he does not have a six pack. If the Aussie wanted to pretend that he does, Edward is going to let him but then... there is his bare legs. Surprisingly shaven too and untouched by ink. Riddler was a bit distracted to notice that the first time...

Pleased with himself, Digger does a cute little spin for him and that's when Edward sees it.

"My beloved..."

"Aww, love it when you call me that, Ed. You checkin' out the bakery? Pretty shiny, eh?"

He was but however... He takes a long inhale. "Absolutely not. You are NOT going out like that."

Harkness stumbles as he whirls around. "What?! Why!"

"I- I'll lay this out to you gently, darling. The hair is fine...  The goggles looks goofy on you. The handlebar mustache is interesting and the cape strapped in the belt is... a choice."

Digger shifts his weight. "... When you say 'a choice'...?"

"It means you... made a decision, whether it is a good or bad one, I really... It makes me feel conflicted in a negative way. And don't get me wrong, Digs, I love your thighs but it really makes... your bulge... um..."

"What about it?"

"Digger, your side profile, everyone can see... everyone can see IT. Your dick is making a statement."

"What are ya flamin' talkin' about, love?! Superman wears shit like this all the time! Flasher, Batman-"

"Yes, but they are not generous done there, are they?!"

Boomerang snorts, "Yeh! You think Flasher gets rashes down there? I mean he's-"

Edward claps his hands together. "Harkness! You cannot wear that in public, end of. This is not me being biased, I'm serious. You have a huge penis and everyone is going to notice how big you are. BUT it is NOT the kind of attention you are desiring from this outfit."

Deflated, Digger carefully pulls off his googles which have made an indent on his face and... it is adorably funny, in all honesty. "Is that better?"

"It helps slightly, but if you really want to wear this out, you need to do something to cover up your lower torso."

He turns to the side and leans as if trying to see from Riddler's perspective. "Is it that bad?"

"Incredibly. Your bulge is going to take an eye out."

Digger suddenly grins. "You know, ehhah, could, ah, use for other means. You like it?"

Edward gives him a look. "Harkness."

Boomerang creeps closer, setting the goggles on the desk just to pin Riddler in. "Does it make ya horny?"

The hair and mustache combo now that he is looking at it closely is... doing something to his brain chemistry. He can see more of his freckles that trickle down to his jaw line. Edward takes his face into his hands and caresses his now smooth cheeks. Digger hums, smiling and closing his eyes. If he had the ability to purr like a cat, Edward is fairly sure he would right now.

"I miss your beard."

"Aww, love, it'll grow back. Wanna see how a 'stache kiss feels?"

"It wouldn't hurt, I suppose." Riddler leans into his lips. His hairs definitely tickle his upper lip, but Edward cannot find it in himself to hate it. His brain does ache for the familiar scratchy sensation on his chin. The mustache is soft and he can smell traces of gel Digger used to curl his hair. He feels an itch in his fingers. His hands travel up and completely ruin the hairdo, making Harkness whine from both pleasure and complaint.

He breaks the kiss and yanks his hands out of his hair. He tries to salvage it as best he can without a mirror. "Edddyyyy! This look took a flamin' hour to get right!"

"Now you know how I feel... Although, that unkempt hair does suit you rather well." Nygma smirks. "Might even call it sexy."

Digger stops immediately, ogling at him. "Sexy...?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Just me hair? Not all of the fit?"

"I'm not as into spandex as I used to be, dear. But um... that bulge is certainly giving me ideas."

That is all Boomerang needed to hear. He snatches Edward by the wrist and pulls him into the connecting bedroom. "Yer showin' off these ideas, NOW."

"Harkness! I am in the middle of-!"

"We can make it quick! I promise it'll be quick, okay?" He puts his hands together as he begs, bending his knees "Please, please, please, please-"

"Good Lord- Alright! Okay, quick. Like five minutes..."

It did not last five minutes and Edward realized that he may possibly like spandex again.

Chapter Text

"Harley, you know if this goes wrong, it's all on you." Floyd warns her with a serious inflection in his voice.

"Boomerang seems to like Riddler quite a lot." Shark adds with a nod.

"Boys! Boys, caaalm yourselves. I've got it all under control." Harley waves their concerns away as she pops open the container of store-bought variety cookies.

"Right, sure." Lawton goes on. "I remember you saying that when we were on that one underwater mission. I still don't know how you blew up your own oxygen tank."

"Or that one time in Washington." Shark shudders and stops there.

"Crap, alright, before you two go on! I admit it, I've made some massive mistakes that resulted in injury. But that's the thing! It was only physical trauma!"

"And mental trauma." Shark says distantly, as if he is still present in Washington. Deadshot affectionately pats his arm, offering a soft you're good, man. You're good.

"And... mental trauma." Harley repeats with a lip bite. "Okay, but um... Guys, it's Riddler. I like Eddy, I do but- you both met him! You know how he is! I just wanna make sure that he's... that he won't take advantage of our Boomer."

"Boomer is a grown ass man, Harl." Floyd points out gruffly.

"I hear you, but also Boomer makes bad decisions all the time. If this is one, we need to find out NOW rather than later. I hate it when he gets in one of his depressed spells, you know? I can't have Eddy do that to him because he couldn't see the red flags."

Shark tilts his head. "Would we not find out after three months?"

"That's three months from now and I don't wanna wait!"

Lawton sighs, "You heard her, Shark. Can't stop her once she's rolling like this."

"I know." He exhales with remorse.

"Jesus, you're both talking at me like I'm dead."

"Boomerang might kill you if he finds out your plan." Shark warns her.

"Yeah, I already have the funeral home's number." Lawton adds in half-jest.

"Wowwww! Fine, ye of little faith, just watch-"

"Boomerang is back with Riddler." King Shark suddenly announces.

"What's Riddler smell like?" Quinn asks, immediately distracted.

"Arrogance and..." He sniffs again. "Coconut."

"Coconut?" Floyd makes a face. "I never would have expected that."

"Right?" Harley beams as she regales them. "I remember when he used to douse himself in Axe body spray. He stopped using it when Batman told him he just followed his stench rather than his riddles."

"Why is an axe in a body spray?" Shark wonders softly.

"Oh, that's hilarious! Is there a blank card for this game? We gotta use that."

"I have no idea-" Hearing the door unlock and swing open, they all look to see Digger enter with a nicely put together Edward Nygma. Harley shoves her laugh back down her throat. "Heyyyy Eddy!" "

"Greetings, squad." Edward blinks when Harkness gingerly removes his coat from him and hangs it on the rack. He smiles in surprise. "Oh, why, thank you."

"'Course, love. Go ahead and take your shoes off. Get comfy."

Lawton leans towards Harley, whispering, "Someone's trying to get laid."

Harley snorts. "Right?! He doesn't take my jacket off." She pulls away, raising her voice. "You can't dress casual, can you, Ed?"

With a quizzical brow raise, he looks down at his attire fit for a job interview. "You stated that this is a game night, which is an event. Why would I not look my best?"

"When do ya not?" Digger asks mostly to himself but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear it. Nonplussed, Riddler glances at him with blush lightly coating his cheeks.

"God, Boomer flirting." Floyd mutters the same way but somewhat playfully. "Gag."

"OI!!" Harkness shouts, his lips curled back like a growling dog.

"HA!" She leans on and shakes Deadshot's arm. "Zoe's rubbin' off on youuuu!"

"I thought it was sweet." King Shark shares in confusion, not understanding the tease.

"Ta, Sharko." He clears his throat. Although his face is still red from embarrassment, he still tries to put moves on his man by looping an arm over his shoulders. "See what I get when I try to be nice around them? This is why I didn't want ya to come."

"I'm seeing it." Edward is smirking, which is a good sign to Harley.

"Yeah, yeah, like you're any better, Boomie! Both of ya get over here, I'm sick of waitin' to play!"

When everyone settles down around the dining table, Harley deals out her own handmade cards that have everyone's name written in their respective colors and symbols. "Okay, so the point of Bad People is someone is supposed to be the Dictator and everyone has to try and guess who the Dictator thinks would most likely do the prompt on the card. I thought it would be better if we all collectively decide who that person is and if it's not a majority vote then we have to openly discuss... If you are voted enough times you win! Which is what you don't wanna do. So! If you're the target, you gotta debate with everyone else to try to sway opinion. I have realized I have lost all of you. Look-"

"I would prefer if we just go by the rulebook-ow!" Harley slaps his hand that is reaching across to the box. Edward recoils.

"My house, my rules. You'll understand if we just start, okay? I'll draw a card."

"... What happens if I vote for myself?" Shark asks.

"Well, you shouldn't but I guess if you really identify with the card you can? Don't stress yourself out, hun." She reaches over and pats his arm. "This is just for fuunnnn. Treat it like Whose Line, points don't matter."

Edward frowns. "But you just said that we get points if-"

"Eddy. Live a little. Okay? Not everything has to be structured." She ignores his glare that threatens to gouge her eyes with daggers as she reads out. "Most likely to have a naked
picture of themselves on the internet?"

"Ah shit..." Digger grits his teeth.

"Does it matter if we already know who has done that?" Floyd asks smugly.

"Does it matter if wehwehwehweh- shut up, Floyd." Harkness bites back.

Edward chuckles. "Already, Digger is at an unfair disadvantage."

"Heyyy! Okay, I'll pick a different card... Who has slept with someone in the shortest amount of time after meeting them? Oh shit, hang on, I have to do math..."

"Yeah, I already know who I'm pickin'." Boomerang grins with pride, moving his folded piece of paper to the middle. Floyd eventually throws his opinion in, followed by Shark, Edward, then Harley.

Harley unrolls hers first. "Kay, so I put Boomie."

Digger makes a buzzer sound with his mouth. "Nah-ah, it's you, Harl. Oral ain't sleepin'."

"I also voted Harley."

"Thank you, Floyd." Digger watches as Edward turns his over and sees his name. His mouth drops. "Me?!"

"You told me you've had plenty of flings with strangers. Or is that also not true?" Edward inquires, teasingly.

"Y-yeah, well, they ain't- they ain't always..."

"Sharky?" Quinn's voice goes an octave higher in astonishment. "You voted for yourself?"

"I, um... believe it could be me."

"Okay, well... we have a split. I guess it could come down to just confessin' it... Boomer's going first."

"Why me?!"

"Because you're gonna lie to make me look worse! Now answer!"

Digger crosses his arms and leans back, sneering. "Who says you won't do the same bloody thing?!"

"This is going to take all day." Floyd groans rubbing his face. "Just pick a different card, Harl."

"No! I wanna win this!"

While they were all arguing, Harley sneaks glances over at Edward. The Riddler seems very unperturbed by the yelling, edging the bowl of caramel popcorn closer to him and popping a few into his mouth. He seems to be enjoying himself. His gaze is glued on Digger. Harley hums. Eventually, the argument dispels and she draws out another prompt.

"Who would I call if I needed help burying a dead body? Ohhh, wait, this is a good one."

"Takes a lot into account..." Floyd agrees.

Everyone silently ponders before picking their choice.

"Alrighty, I'll go first. I'm pickin' Floyd."

"I also chose Deadshot." Shark concurs. "He would be efficient."

Lawton approves of their choices with a nod and a hum. "I picked Harley."

"Awww! Cowboyyy~"

Digger clears his throat. "Well, uh, I was in between two- not that Floyd was one of 'em I've buried blokes with you. You ain't fun."

"Burying bodies ain't supposed to be fun."

"With that attitude, yeah. So I uh, picked Harl."

"And who didn't you pick?" Edward asks, leaning in.

Harkness squirms. "You..."

"And why didn't you pick me?"

"Cuz if we ever got into a fight you'd use that as blackmail?"

His somewhat angry expression melts away. "... I would actually, you're right. Hmph... regardless, I did choose you. We can make a day of it. Get some wine, look at the stars."

Boomerang's eyes light up. "Awwhhh, Eddy..."

"Burying a body is not romantic." Floyd kills the mood between them.

"It can TOTALLY be romantic!" Harley immediately comes to their defense. "You're just not doing it right!"

"If we were all stand-up comedians, who would get the least amount of lau- Boomer."

"What?! I'm funny! I'm funny?" He looks at his newer boyfriend who just smiles back at him.

She picks up another card, "Most likely to sell out their family and friends for fame? Boomer, no contest. Who should be banned from creating offspring? Boomer."

"Oi!! Harley, what the fuck?!"

"Most likely to commit a hit-and-run?" She gives Digger a look before tossing the card aside.

"Okay yeah, me..." He admits in defeat.

"Whose funeral will have the smallest atte... no, that's sad and existential. We're not answering that. Most likely to get upset playing Bad People? Boomer... Most likely to appear on the "NO FLY LIST"? Boomer-"

"Ah, no?! There's a bloody SHARK here!"

"Oh yeaaaa! Sharky, definitely. Who has secretly done something VERY illegal and gotten away with it? Pfff, who hasn't? Who would be the most successful serial killer? Discussing that one might cause actual murders, I'll skip it too. Who's the most high maintenance in a relationship? Oh my god, no, we have to do this one."

"And you think THIS question won't cause murders?" Edward queries.

"It'll cause fun ones." Harley already plucks a paper out of her hand.

"Oh, and she's ready to answer too." Riddler smirks.

"I believe this prompt to be very thought provoking. I tend to take up most of the water bill but Boomerang does not shower at all." Shark explains.

"I showered today...!" Digger mutters.

"Deadshot and Harley both use their car frequently-"

Floyd cuts him off. "The card is not about our individual financial situations, Shark."

"Oh... then what does it mean?"

"It means pick Harley."

"NUH-UH! It ain't me! You're the guy I can't find a good gift for!"

"Wha-How does that make me high maintenance?"

"Because you're impossible and I spend so much money on you!! And Shark... and Boomie... but you're so expensive!"

Shark only looks more confused. "So it is financial?"

"You're the expensive one here, Harley!"

"Who did you choose, Boomie?" Edward asks as they get into another shouting match.

"Um... picked you cuz of, uh, all yer rules."

"That's fair. I chose you too."

"Me?? I don't need much maintenance. I mean, I don't need much to be happy."

Edward starts scratching just under Boomerang's chin, causing him to melt, "You need my attention twenty-four seven."

"So do you, love..." He purrs, his eyes closing.

Riddler takes a piece of popcorn and nudges it against his mouth where Digger takes it with his tongue and munches down with a hum. Edward's giggling strums his heart strings.

"Who was the last person to masturbate? Oh my god-" Harley snorts, covering her mouth.

"Nope. Skip that one." Digger stands to reach for the card that Harley yanks away from him. "SKIP IT!"

"Oh, calm down, Boomie! I have a high sex drive too! I would beat everyone here, chillll." She throws it over her shoulder and grabs another one. "Who has had sex in the most random place? Oooo, okay, I wanna do an alternative. Let's all confess of a place we think is random... and not make it up to look cool- and we all judge it from there."

"I'm hedging my guess that King Shark's random place is going to be somewhere in the ocean." Edward looks to him expectantly.

Shark rolls his shoulders. "You would not be incorrect."

"That'ssss, I dunno if that's random for you tho, Sharky. For me, uhhhh... I mean. Random? So not like, in the kitchen?"

"Why don't we limit it to outside of the home." Edward suggests.

"Mmmmmm, airplane. But not in the bathroom. I was in the cockpit."

"HA! More like the cockpit was in uh, in..." Digger falters when he doesn't get a laugh out of any of them. Edward gives him unsympathetic pats to his shoulder.

"We've fucked in a motel bathroom, Harley." Floyd admits bluntly. "That's as random as it's going to get for me... Go on, Boomer."

Harkness hides his face with his scarf. "... Funeral."

That stuns everyone at the table into silence.

"That is NOT what I thought you were gonna say..." Floyd says softly.

"I didn't fuck the body!" Digger hurriedly defends himself.

Harley barks a laugh. "I did not THINK you did but NOW I am!"

Boomerang starts sinking in his chair. "Goddammit..."

Was that a fleeting hint of pity in Edward's eyes? "I had sex in a church." He states nonchalantly.

"In front of God and everyone?!" Harley gasps, feigning offense.

"If that isn't random enough for you, I could also add in instead: a golf course."

"A... a golf course?" Lawton knits his brows. "... During the day?"

"Mmhm."

"I didn't think you'd play any sport."

"Golf and calculations go hand in hand, Floyd."

She grins mischievously. "Eddy got a lil freak streak in him... Maybe you and Boomie are meant to be." She loves seeing Boomerang's face go completely red.

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, you datin' him? Can't help bein' a lil wary. 'Cause, you know," Harley takes a cookie from its container. "If you ever make him cry, I'll snap ya neck." She crunches down on it to emphasize her point.

Riddler does not so much as flinch. His eyes do grow slightly wider before he quickly collects himself. "I'm quite aware of the lengths you'd go to make my life miserable, Harley. I've already run the possibilities of what could happen to me concerning the three of you."

"Shit, and you still said yes to Boomer?"

"Said yes to Boomer? I'm the one who asked him."

"I don't know why I'm surprised." Floyd gives the Aussie a disappointed look. "You said you manned up and did it."

"I-I technically did? Look, I gotta head to the dunny-" He panics seeing Shark rise to his feet. "I'm serious, Sharko!! Get outta me way!" He ducks under him and bolts down the hall.

Edward turns to the group, "Well, now that he is out of earshot, let's cut to the chase. You invited me here to scope me out. I cannot exactly fault any of you for that."

Shark states quickly. "It was Harley's idea!"

"Sure, but really. Do any of you actually trust me?"

"I meaaaaaaaaaann, with like... maybe certain thiiiiingssssss... Kindaaaaa..."

Floyd leans back in his seat. "I thought the only thing you had an affinity for was puzzles."

"Well, you learned a lot about me today, didn't you, Floyd?"

"I trust the Riddler." Shark says with conviction. He jerks back a little at the sudden head turns he receives. "I've been keeping an eye on him! And smelling him... He seems to really like Boomerang."

Riddler lifts his shirt to sniff, blinking in confusion. "Um... I cannot exactly deny that he has wormed his way into my heart. He's..." The smile that pulls on his lips is unlike what Harley is used to seeing from him. Edward's face softens. "He's fun."

Floyd nods with a chuckle. "Boomer is fun."

Harley slaps her hands onto the table. "Alright! That settles it! You've got my blessing, Eddy. You're allowed to date Boomie."

"Uh, there should be more than just Shark sniffing him out." Lawton tries butting in.

Quinn tilts her head. "Deadshot. Sharky's got a keen nose- you're really gonna be skeptical about that?"

"Wut are we skeptical about?" Digger asks as he returns.

"Apparently, our aquatic friend can... sniff out emotions? Am I understanding that right?"

"Don't look at me, love. I don't get it either."

As the time for Edward to leave nears, Boomerang jumps up to get his coat for him.

Edward smiles after him before standing up. "Someone's antsy."

"Can't imagine whyyyyy~" Harley sings, which earns her stomp and a curt shaddup! from the Aussie.

"Thank you for inviting me." Riddler tips his head, "It has... definitely been enlightening."

"Thank you for coming!" Shark waves politely.

"Wanna bet that Boomer is coming back tomorrow than tonight?" Floyd whispers to Quinn and she gives him a quick nod.

"Righto, be back soon!" Harkness opens the door for his boyfriend and hurries behind him.

Harley springs out of her chair and scampers to the door to look out the peephole. She watches Boomerang follows Edward off the porch and grab his arm, stopping him.

"Eddy?"

"Yes?"

"Look, I'm- I'm sorry about all that."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"They were... I mean... Most of it was me gettin' teased and the bloody questions, they... and I..."

"Feel emasculated? Self conscious? Come here..." Edward steps into him and kisses him on the lips. Digger melts into him. Seeing that makes Harley feel all bubbly. "I don't see you any differently, Boomie."

"You don't?"

"No... You're very reactive. I can see why they tease you incessantly."

Digger groans in reply. "... None of what I said was a turn off, was it?"

"What? No! Digger... You know, I was nervous about this too. About how you would feel about me after tonight."

"Shit, really? No, no, Eddy, I... learned a lot about ya tonight. Heaps of stuff I didn't even know you were uh, into."

Edward giggles, squeezing his arms before tugging him along. "I suppose we can get more into that tonight."

There is a breath of silence until Boomerang practically yells out, "Wait, really?!"

Harley snorts and pulls herself away from the door. "Yeeeeeeup, he's definitely not comin' home tonight. What are we bettin' on, cowboy? Next morning? I'm startin' to think we won't see him until tomorrow night!"

Chapter Text

Shark follows the stench of intense body odor and shame until he found Captain Boomerang on the roof of the Hall. Two Soder Colas lay beside him and there is another in his hand. His hunched over body language tells him not to disturb him while he is sulking, but Shark is too worried for his friend. His footsteps make himself known far before he is able to announce himself with his voice

Digger glances behind him. "Sharko, came up to hide too? Ah- wait, yours was one of the first, right? Less those weirdos are tryna hound ya..."

"You mean the Lawless' viewers. They do lack manners and ask some fairly invasive questions."

"Don't get me started..."

Shark eases onto his rear beside Harkness, letting his legs dangle. "Then I will not ask."

"I mean- what was even the bloody mindset, you know?!" Digger shouts, getting started. "Askin' me questions like that! Assumin' things- what did ya even tell 'em, Shark?!"

"Me?" He blinks, startled by his accusation. "I told them about our great friendship... Perhaps, I may have gotten a bit personal talking about our naps together."

"So it was you! You put it in their heads that we were- were uh-" His face is brighter than a traffic light as Shark looks at him blankly. "Like a thing! Together! In a relationship!"

"Oh! I did not know this was my fault. I was just happy to speak about you."

Digger lowers his head into his shoulders. "That's... really sweet, Sharko, but you gotta be careful with whatcha put online! People'll take it wrong!"

"I- did familiarized myself with internet safety before coming onto Lawless' stream."

"Clearly not good 'nuff!" Harkness scolds, "Ya big piece of blubber..."

"Sharks do not have blubber."

"Whatever!" He turns away, chucking his third soda can off the building.

Shark frowns, feeling his anxiety stir within him. "I am very sorry, Boomerang. If I had known they would twist my words like that, I would not have said anything."

Digger's silent treatment does not last. He sighs, deflating. "You're fine, Sharko... It ain't your fault. But um... guess it's got me all curious."

"Mm? About what?"

"Just a, uh, real general question, nothing connected to it- um... Would ya ever date a human?"

"Hmm, I used to find it objectionable, but now as I spend time with my friends... and procured some crushes of my own, I think I would not mind a relationship with a land dweller."

Harkness laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, ah, I don't think Waller or Luthor's interested, mate."

"My feelings for Waller are very complicated but I would not pin them as romantic... But Luthor... yes, I am sure what I am feeling is unrequited."

"I wouldn't worry too hard about it, Shark. You'll find some freaky bastard that'll love ya, dorsal fin and all. They'll come to ya. Who knows? Might even be close by..." His voice trails off, looking towards the skull ship.

Shark can smell his nervousness with his shame.

"Yes, maybe we can swim together and grab sushi." He offers.

"That's the spirit, mate." Digger says unenthusiastically. "Sure they'll love it. Just don't go to the one in Gotham."

"I will keep that in mind..." He decides against pushing the matter. He did not want to freak his best friend out by assuming too much. He puts his big hand on his shoulder and drags him over to his side.

"Oi- hey!" Digger cries out, nearly falling off the side if it wasn't for Shark's grip on him. "Wha-whuh-what are you doin'?!"

"You still seemed upset. I am offering you solace by bringing you into an embrace."

Harkness blushes. "I-I mean, I don't need a hug."

"Are you certain?"

Boomerang sits there and hesitantly leans against him. "Maybe just one, for a little while.."

After a little longer than a little while, Shark decides to let Digger continue enjoying his touch for another little while longer.

Chapter Text

Earth-1(?)

"Edward?" Harkness pipes up, disturbing their comfortable silence. Riddler's, who is taking up most of the couch, legs rest across his lap.

"Yes, Digger?" Edward replies, not taking his eyes off from his book.

"There's a lot of worlds out there... Apparently, there's a lotta us'es."

"Indeed."

"I was a sheila in one. Least that's what Lex said." Boomerang pauses. "Talked about her all... sad."

"Perhaps, they were an item. I'm sure that is hard for you to imagine."

"Eh, not really gonna give that much thought."

"Oh?"

"Nah, I mean... maybe."

Edward stops reading and looks up at him. "Maybe what?"

He shrugs, playing with one of Edward's puzzle cubes that is more stimming with than actually solving. "You're both smart."

"This is true. One more than the other..."

Digger smirks. "Righto, but uh... if this lady Digger was hittin' it off with someone like Lex then... Do you think, Ed, that in other Earths... I'm with you?"

"Considering that there are an abundance of other Earths and Elseworlds... I would not doubt the possibility."

"Do ya think we're together in most of 'em?"

"No."

His heart chips. "No...?"

"Think of it like this, Digger." He marks his place with a bookmark and sits up. "The possibility of us meeting face to face is approximately in the 1 percent. Who knows what is going on in other planes of existence? Perhaps in one we are both dead before we had a chance to meet. Or there could be another where we hate each other's guts. One where you kill me. Or I kill you. One where we don't even know that the other exists. One where we are born in different eras. You could still be in Australia or never became Captain Boomerang. I could be with someone else and so could you. Do you see what I'm saying? There are too many variables. I highly doubt we are particularly soulmates and if we are, then the worlds do not want us together."

Digger digests his rant, his fidgeting with the cube coming to a stop. "... We'd be too dangerous together." He reassures himself.

"That is a sweet sentiment, Boomie. If that were true, this world would be at our feet, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess... Still, I'm glad we're together in this one. Even if it's a 1 percent of it happenin'. I love you, Eddy."

Touched, Edward leans in to properly kiss him on the lips. "I love you, Digs."

Earth-23

“Speaking of Kenny," Lois Lane continues. "Why did you not testify against him when his court date came around?”

George Wiggins, the CEO of Wiggins Game Company, blinks. “... Uhhh, honestly, love, I didn’t know that was even happenin’.”

“Mr. Wiggins is in one of his better moods due to intensive therapy.” Edward Nygma, Wiggin's advisor, explains in a passive manner. “His doctor recommended that he should not look into the news or social media for the time being so that he does not relapse. However, this interview was his decision since he felt guilty for staying quiet for so long.”

“There’s no need to feel guilty, Mr. Wiggins. I heard what was going on behind the scenes was quite intense. But I’ll keep those questions to a minimum. Can I ask where Edgar Nachman has…?” Edward shakes his head. She looks to her notes and changes subjects accordingly. “Actually, let me ask you about why you chose Kennedy Jamison.”

“Wasn’t exactly a choice. Didn’t choose him either. I think it’s eh, common knowledge by now that my father left me with debt that I need to fix. When I announced at my company’s milestone party that I was aiming to get married, I got flocked by producers wanting to take me on. Became a biddin’ war, really, since the Wiggins name is such a big deal. Kennedy won by offerin’ the most. We took it because we had to.”

Lois takes his lie with ease, like sipping water. “That’s interesting that you say that about the Wiggins’ name… I have it on record here that your sales have been gradually going down throughout the year. I know your, um, your father was really struggling to keep his business afloat.”

“Well, that’s why we decided to get into the movie business. Showcase what the young’ens, and anyone honest, are missin’ with Captain Boomerang. We’re tryna branch out to a wider audience. I’m proud of it… and I’m sure my pops is too.” He adds with an air of melancholy.

“... I certainly hope so.” She offers her condolences with a sympathetic smile.

As Edward watches on, he notices how well George is carrying himself in his role as grieving CEO. He does get into how he has tried to make everyone who was traumatized by Kennedy’s dictatorship a little better by providing money for medical services. That was done by Edward, himself. But that needed to come out of Wiggins’ mouth in a humbling way as to turn the audience onto his side, taking the blame and explaining that his search for a spouse will continue quietly and untelevised. Lois then takes a side step to talk about the movie in which George complies. He leaves out his near death and explains that the change in director (“before his unfortunate death”) was due to communication issues. Nygma does not let pride show on his face until the interview finally ends with another handshake.

As she grabs her recorder, Edward rounds the desk, “May I walk you back to your cab, Miss Lane?”

“Oh no, that’s alright, but thank you, Mr. Nygma.” A nosey reporter like her is mostly likely going to head to Kennedy for his side of the story… or possibly to any of the other contestants she can find that are still in the area. He did not need to bribe any of the traumatized “guests” but Kennedy… Edward knows the fear gas was and will be enough to keep him quiet.

“Be safe, Miss Lane!” George calls after her. He glances at Nygma sideways with a growing grin.

“Whatever is that look for?” Edward whispers, waiting for Lois Lane to take the elevator.

Spinning his chair towards him, he wiggles his brows. “Why dontcha take a seat, aye?”

“We are on the clock…” He hisses between his teeth. Finally hearing the elevator ding, the two look over and wave her goodbye until the door closes.

Letting his hand fall onto the armrest, George leans forward and purrs. “We can take a break. I mean, poor George Wiggins had to talk about his trauma, right? Needs a proper distraction.”

“You’re a terrible influence.”

Wiggins bites his tongue and smiles. “Hate to break it to ya, love, but so are you.”

"You're not wrong..."

He surprises George by straddling his lap. Nygma watches as his mind halt in its tracks to feel every burning desire inside his body all at once. His hands are frozen in mid reach and his eyes are dark from his dilating pupils. Edward chuckles and kisses him, just under his ear before trailing a line down to his neck. George releases a long exhale and presses his hands into his back.

Earth-41

Sweat trickles down his face. Edward fumbles with inserting the keys into the lock. When he finally enters his home, he shuts the door with his back and sits down on the floor with his head in his hands. A pulsing headache. The gunshot is still ringing in his ears. The look on her face is burned into his eyelids. He didn't feel good about killing her. It was a mercy for her situation. That did not quell his aching belly. She looked like Quinn.

"Dr. Maynard?"

He jumps out of his own skin. He looks up to see the spitting image of George. Owen stares at him in concern.

"Owen! I-I had no idea you were here..." He hates that he sounds like he just came up from drowning. "Where's Quinn?"

"She went to the bathroom." He steps forward, bending down. "Are you okay? No offense, doctor, but you look like shit."

"I had... I had a very stressful day. That's all. My line of work can take quite a toll. But I'm alright... Your father isn't here, right?"

The teenager's face hardens. "Unfortunately."

"Great... I'm sure he just let himself in."

"You can say that... Quinn's letting him stick around."

Something sharp poked his chest. "What? She is?"

"If it makes you feel any better, he's behaving for what it's worth... Or if you want, you can blame me. I mean, she tolerates me, so I guess she thinks George is the same."

"Quinn is a remarkably good judge of character, Owen... and I think the only compliment your father will ever receive." Owen snorts at the jab. Edward sighs as he stands up. "Where is he?"

"In the kitchen."

"Auh, god, is he touching my things?" Not waiting for a reply, he hurries to the kitchen where he finds the boomerang slinging convict at his dining table, snacking on an apple.

George sees him and gives him a devious grin. "Eddy!"

"So much for confidentiality, George. Does..." He glances back hearing the toilet flush and sees Quinn making her way back into the den. Upon seeing her father, she rushes over to him and hugs his waist. "Hello, darling. Did you have a good day?"

The little girl nods shyly, her eyes on the trespasser. George at least has the courtesy to smile and wave at her with his mouth full of apple. He talks openly. "Be outside in the rain if it weren't for her. Maybe you should give her extra desert."

"Do not tell me how to parent." He snips before seeping back into a much sweeter tone to his daughter. "Quinn, dear, are you going to play with Owen? Go on ahead, I'll be right there."

George barely waits for the children to be distracted before he speaks. "Crazy, that... a cold blooded killer can turn inta a sweetheart just like that."

"Would you be quiet?" Edward hisses. He presses his hands onto the table, leaning to leer at him properly. "Does he even know you're here."

"Told me to come over." He takes another bite out of the apple.

His eye twitches at the sound. "He told you?"

"Gotta play his lil errand boy, sometimes. Mean, this is your trial run, right? Playin' with the big fellas. So!" He takes his feet off the table and sits up right. "You done her in, aye? Ya get the, uh... the thing?"

"Must we talk so openly about what we do, George?"

"Awwhh, scared your kid will find out her daddy ain't what he says he is?"

"Would your son like to know where and who his real mother is?" He rebuttals.

George stops chewing, his caterpillar eyebrows furrow. "Yer bluffin', mate."

"Mallory Ryan. Her father, Stanley Ryan. I believe she's a cop now, taking after her father. Has been married to her husband for five years and was just put on maternity leave for their second kid... You already know this, because someone in Central City has connections to Australia and has been filling you in on how she is doing. That is what that previous call you took was about, wasn't it? You drank yourself sick for the rest of the day."

His face is pale. "What the fuck..."

"There is a reason why your boss likes me, George. So do not test me. If you wish to discuss our jobs, then we shall go into my office."

Defeated, the Aussie saves face by quickly collecting himself. He sucks air through his teeth. "Fine."

"My lips will remain sealed as long as you replace the apple you ate."

"Whatever."

"No whatevers. I want certainty. Or I'm calling Owen over."

"You got certainty, mate. Alright? You've got it. One bloody apple... I'll get ya one tomorrow."

Earth-52-2

Digger feels off waking up the following morning. He didn't feel sick. He didn’t have a headache. He opens his eyes to see that Edward is gone from his embrace, making the pit in his stomach grow wider. He can still feel the phantom touch of Riddler linger on his body.

He rubs his tired eyes and forces himself out of bed. After a quick stop at the restroom, he hobbles down the stairs. 

“Morning, Captain.”

He hates how his heart flips hearing Edward’s voice. Boomerang trudges over and sits beside him at the breakfast nook. He side eyes him. His black hair is down, messy even. Riddler really has let himself go while hiding away from the Wall. She has that affect on people. But the Riddler? THE Riddler... His smugness, his condescending nature is gone. He has completely calmed down.

“I kept your breakfast warm…" He says. The gesture feels out of character for him. It's too sweet. "Didn’t have a restful sleep?”

“Huu?” Boomer clears his throat, finally pulling his eyes off him. “I, uh, guess not.”

“Hm... It did not seem like you had any further nightmares after I took care of your earpiece. You were quiet.”

“Yeah, guess so.” He sniffs and mindlessly eats. Anything to keep his distract himself from the idea that Edward monitored him while he was unconscious.

Riddler lays a hand on his shoulder. “Digger, are you not feeling well?”

Harkness lets him feel his face for a fever. His palm is amazingly soft. He catches the smell of coconut as he pulls away.

“I can grab a thermometer-” Nygma stands up. Panic surges through his body.

Acting on impulse, Digger grabs him by the wrist before he could walk away. “Eddy.”

He whips to look at him, blinking. “Yes?”

The words tumble out, forcefully making its way out of his mouth. “You don’t think that’s weird that we did that, right?”

His brows come together. His gaze never leaves him. “Us in an embrace? No, I don’t consider that weird at all.”

“We slept together, Ed. You were lyin’ on me. Had your head on my chest.”

“You could argue that I was comforting you.”

“So, what?" Digger snaps, his grip tightening. "You wouldn’t have done that?”

Edward meets him with confusion. “Done what? I don't understand what you're getting angry about.”

“Don't bloody trick me, Riddler. We’re both alone and it's just us here. You’d drop me if you saw anyone else.”

“Drop you…?”

“I’m good for nothin’, alright? Stop tryin’ to… just stop! If I ever ask again, you’re gonna kick me out.”

“You say these things and you have yet to release me. I don't think you even believe in your words, Digger.” Riddler shuffles forward. “You can’t see a future for yourself. You feel undeserving of one. Let me share this with you, Captain,” He leans on the countertop. He talks with such tangible gentleness that Harkness wants to be embraced by “There are far worse people out there who have committed major atrocities that do not feel remorse but are empowered by their actions and they are happy to be alive. Feeling this grief inside you, Boomer, it’s good. But that does not mean that you are below living. Even if I am the only one who sees that. You can still turn your life around.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” His voice sounds so pitiful. He wants to punch himself in the face.

“No one ever does…” Edward holds Digger’s hand and says quietly, as if pleading. “But you have me.”

“Yeah… mean, it’s just the two of us here.”

“That’s true.”

“Nobody’s judging…” He admits as he leans towards him. 

Riddler lets go to place his palms on his shoulders. “You’d be correct.”

Boomer slips his hand around his waist. His lips are inviting. “... And no one would know.”

“Only us.” His breath tickles his nose.

A long painful silence cuts in between them as Boomerang struggles to find his voice again. 

“... Ever…” He gulps. “Ever kissed a man before, Eddy?”

“I have but not one with a beard.” He touches his cheek. “And yours is soft.”

Digger gets up from his chair, pinning Edward into the nook. His chest and stomach graze against Edward. “I take good care of me hair… y'know before I got all frost bit.”

Edward leans into him, feeling his pecs. “... And have you kissed a man, Digger?”

His dark brown eyes are easy to fall into. He watches a loose tear gently drip down Edward’s cheek. “No… Never.”

The cold in their bodies gradually grows warmer and warmer, but not too hot. It is a comfortable, pleasant warmth that goes beyond physical and internal temperature.

His trembling hands move, rubbing his thumb along his sides. “You really want me to stay, dontcha?”

"Yes..."

He could not hesitate further. Watching his lips may as well also be mocking him. Digger kisses him. It’s unmoving, stiff, and fearful of reprimands.

But his lips are soft, moisturized, and heavenly.

They comfort him and melt his anxieties away.

Chapter Text

Lawless disengages from the squad, using her anti-gravity to fly up a skyscraper near the Daily Planet. She finds Hack waiting for her, sitting cross legged on the roof. Her hologram stutters and suddenly she is standing up. "I have disconnected us from the rest of the squad."

Zoe nods, her brows pinched. "You really think we have a traitor?"

"Nothing so extreme but something odd is happening within the Squad, Zoe. When Boomerang is out in the field, there are times where I cannot find him on the network until he comes back online."

She kicks the rocks Brainiac threw dew to his constant remodeling off the side. "Of course, Brainiac would convince him first."

"I would prefer if we did not jump to conclusions just yet. I have not found Boomerang doing anything sketchy while at the Hall... aside from him using Nora as his therapist at night."

"Right, yeah... I'll keep an eye on him. Is he still online?"

"As far as I can tell he is... I'm sure that will change soon."

After returning to the squad, Lawless stays close to the Australian, following a fair distance away while tailing his route towards their next mission. Boomerang's spacial awareness has never been the best. This will be one of her easier assignments- is it really an assignment if you're doing your friend a favor? Zoe has noticed some odd changes in his behavior recently since her deployment. Aside from sneaking off, he tends to talk to himself. She tried to inch over to him when this happens, but Harkness noticed her fairly fast. Boomerang can be a really good liar when he actually tries, explaining he was thinking about what the next Earth would have to offer them, which got them onto the topic. If she had the venture a guess, he was hiding someone.

It couldn't be Brainiac then. Being sneaky does not exactly suit him.

"Man, Riddler is the worst! Right, guys?" Digger exclaims with what feels like feigned exasperation after collecting another trophy. But when it is not met with a response, he glances around, "Guys?"

"Yea, yea, the worst. We heard ya." Harley says offhandedly, before swinging away.

Curious, Zoe pokes. "Is he really the worst though?"

Boomerang takes the bait. "You kiddin'? He makes us find all his dumb little holo-trophies and has us run around with those AR challenges. And he thinks he's workin' WITH Waller instead of for her. He's just- annoyin'!"

"His ego will be his downfall." Shark agrees. "He cannot keep himself just out of Waller's reach forever."

Digger laughs a little too long. "Ya-yea! He's an idiot!"

His jaws are clenched. His shifty eyes are shiftier than normal... huh.

Eventually, Harkness seems to have caught on to Zoe stalking him.

"Whaddya want, kid?" He finally asks, stopping his speed force.

"Whuddya mean?" She mimics playfully to make herself appear more innocent.

He squints at her. "You've been followin' me all day."

"Then stop following me in the front!"

The reference soars over Boomerang's head and he stares at her, dumbfounded. "What...?"

"I-it's... Nevermind, I'm just teasing you. I was seeing how long you'd notice!" She lies awkwardly.

"Yeah?" He gives her displeased look. "I noticed. Could ya stop now?"

"Yeah, I'll stop... Sorry."

"Ah-huh. I don't need ya stream talkin' all weird about me again."

As if she didn't feel guilty still about that AMA...

"Oh, Boomer! I'm sorryyyy!" She shouts after him. She huffs, watching him speed off and blink over rooftops until he vanishes in between two buildings.

"Zoe! He's gone." Hack announces in her ear.

"I'm on him!"

Gravitating to the two buildings she last saw him, she lowers down to the roof. The Suicide Slums is not a giant place. He could not have gotten far. Hearing a shout, she hovers towards the bridge and gently propels herself to the road underneath. She notices an alcove in the wall and... Was this tunnel always here?

"You know I didn't mean it, love." She hears Digger's voice from within. She squeezes herself through the slit and, as quietly as she can, follows the path to where the hallway opens into a laboratory. "I had to put up a front!"

Heart in her throat, Zoe presses herself into the wall at the sight of Riddler. He is sitting weirdly on a gamer chair, one of his legs is draped over the arm and he lean on the backrest at an angle. He seems too preoccupied by Harkness' presence to notice her there.

"So you think I'm annoying?" Edward badgers with a lour. "An idiot?"

"Course yer not an idiot!" Digger fidgets with his hands. "I mean- yeahhh kinda annoyin', but that's your thing, ain't it?"

"My thing is to confound which can lead into annoyance, sure, but you saying it is completely different from say, Deadshot."

"Not sayin' you annoy me that bad, Eds!" He gives him an uncomfortable toothy smile. "You annoy me- y'know? The typical amount!"

This... why does this sound like a lover's quarrel?

"Oh? The typical amount?" Edward is not satisfied by that answer.

"Wait- ah, crap, I'm makin' this worse... Ah-did you like the pizza?"

Boomer was the one who ordered that pizza for him?!

"I figured that was you." He replies grumpily, allowing him to change topics. "Don't do that again."

"You said you were starvin'!"

"You misinterpreted my meaning of starving..."

"What flamin' else could that mean?!"

"Use your brain, Digger..."

"Can't, blood goes elsewhere when I'm around ya."

Zoe makes a face. "Ew??" She slaps her hand to her mouth.

"I knew someone else was here." Edward says with a sigh, "You may come out, Lawless. Join the party."

She hesitantly complies, revealing herself to the two men. She has never seen Boomerang look so red. Riddler, on the other hand, is still teetering on irritated but he also seems amused.

"You're young and impressionable, aren't you, Lawless?" Riddler queries, smiling. "Since you firmly believe our little dispute is also your business, what are your thoughts on the matter?"

"Wa-wait, hang on- I'm still trying to wrap around why- or how you two are- uh-"

"We're not anything!" Digger blurts out.

Edward looks at him with his mouth agape. "Oh?! That is NOT what you said a couple of days ago."

"No! Eddy, bloody hell, that's not- why aren't ya on my side here?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I being annoying? Is it the typical amount or am I going too far?"

"Edward! C'mon, you know I annoy ya too-"

Riddler dramatically turns away in his chair, humphing, "I find you a delight and wonderful company but apparently not anymore if I'm such a hassle."

"You're not a hassle! I mean- crikey, I'm diggin' a hole here..."

It takes Zoe a moment to realize that Nygma is performing while Harkness is taking it too seriously, and that in itself is entertaining to the Gotham rogue.

What a mess.

"Seriously, how long has this been going on? Boomer, I thought you were going AWOL! Has Riddler been turning off your location?"

"My wot?"

"I've been doing that for everyone for the past three months now." He waves the question aside. "I enjoy in making Waller and her pets frantic."

"Well, coulda stop? I know your relationship with Waller isn't great, Nygma." She lowers her voice in an attempt to turn the tides. "So, if I told her that you're the reason being the spotty signals, she is going to act on those threats on you. You don't want that, right? Especially since I know your location..."

Resting his head in his hand, Edward purrs, "Mmm, smarter than your father, I see. Although, the delivery of the blackmail could use a bit of work."

"Oh!" Zoe deflates in her pose. "Uh, what about it? Was it too much?"

"Hardly! There wasn't nearly enough schadenfreude. You want me to feel fear, Lawless? I want to hear how much it means to you to see me punished. Really emphasize on certain words too like threats and location."

"Would... that work on you?"

"No, it's just my peer review on what could be improved. It would work on Boomie here."

"I mean yeah, proba-" Digger shoots him a glare. "Hey!"

"Regardless, as I was saying, what is the compromise? Make it so I can't refuse, Lawless."

"Oh! Uhhhh..." Her mind spins in thought. "I guess, that would depend on how much you like Boomerang?"

"Awww, thinking about threatening to take him away from me?"

"I mean, that'd- you'd be sad if I stopped comin' by, right?" Boomerang asks him with a pleading look.

To Zoe's surprise, Edward smiles at him, almost... lovingly? "I suppose I would miss you, yes."

Digger sways a little, all giddy and toothy in his grin, until he remembers that Lawless is in the room with him and he quickly sobers up. He sits back on the desk, his arms folded. His eyes looking anywhere but at Riddler as he pretends that he did not just melt at his words. Meanwhile, Edward holds his gaze on him with the same expression.

"This is the weirdest thing I think I've ever seen..." She isn't sure if she can call it cute, seeing these two murderers in their late thirties get all lovey dovey with each other in their own peculiar way. It is definitely not Joker and Harley-coded. And they both seem happy together... Does she want to put a wedge in between them while the world is falling apart around them? Not particularly. If these two of all people can find love in a hopeless place, literally, then... Who was she to judge? "Look, Riddler? I won't say anything about this as long as you stop flickering the code."

"Really now?"

"Yeah, I mean... You're right, I don't have that schaden... whatever you said. You two clearly wanna keep this from everyone else and I'm happy to keep that secret."

"Hm, isn't that sweet-"

Digger cuts him off. "Shark and Joker especially can't know, Zoe!"

"Hey, I get it, Boomer. They won't find out, I swear! Althouuugh, you could sweeten the deal. I'm too curious! How did this even happen?"

"Ha! She's quick." Edward rolls his chair back into his desk. "You two have been off the field long enough. Perhaps Boomsie will tell you if you ask him nicely, although I wouldn't take his word for truth."

"Ignore that bastard, c'mon kid." He walks to the entry and yells over his shoulder. "He's just embarrassed that I saved his arse."

"You did no such thing! I saved yours."

"Nah-ah!"

"Yuh-huh."

What a mess.

Chapter Text

Floyd didn't know what to say. What could be said between them? He hasn't seen Boomerang in ages and, of course, when he does, he was told to kill him.

The tension that was once held so brashly between them has fizzled out with time.

That scene loops in his head. It's okay, Floyd. No hard feelings. Like all Lawton was going to do was punch him, not shoot his brain.

Harkness deserved a lot of things, but he didn't deserve a death like that.

"Got somethin' to say?" Digger pulls him from his thoughts, looking at him, pliant, curious. Time hasn't changed his appearance, minus the bandage over his nose. In all honesty, he looks healthier than he did in the squad.

Words do manage to come out faster than Floyd can think. "Didn't you say that you'd never go back to Australia?"

The Aussie moves his lips around. His upper lip flexes up with his shrug. "Changed me mind. Got friends down there now."

"Really?" His tone is more incredulous than he meant but Digger takes it in stride, laughing.

"I know! Weird, right? Yeah, one's got a bar. We all meet up there, have a few laughs. It feels good."

Lawton smiles a little. "That's good to hear. You doing well for yourself down there?"

"I get by. Better than I was here." He stretches his back and grunts. "Am I allowed to ask about yer kid or is that still a bad topic?"

Deadshot hesitates. Whenever Digger tries to ask about Zoe, it's at his expense, but he doesn't seem to be mocking him this time. Time truly does change people, even people like Digger. "She's fine. Getting good grades."

"Yea? Good on her. She know what she wants to grow up to be yet?"

"I think she's still trying to figure that out." He will spare Boomer the details of her attempting to be a vigilante. This short time they are spending together is for catching up, not complaints.

It is still strange that Digger isn't trying to be offensive.

"You know, Floyd..." Harkness starts, itching his bandaged nose. "I guess I owe ya."

Lawton deflates and shakes his head. "Digger, let's not talk about owing. I think we're past that."

"Yeah? What's the reason then?"

"What?"

"Why'd'ya save me hide?" Harkness steps into his bubble and gets into his face, smiling like the little shit he is. "Felt bad for poor defenseless Digger, aye? Got sentimental?"

Floyd inhales. Harkness still smells rank. It is almost nostalgic for him. "I never want to be the one that kills you, Digger."

Boomerangs' eyes soften but he scoffs. "Ain't you a sweetheart." He slaps his shoulder. "C'mon, mate." He tugs on him as he walks by him.

"Where are you going?"

"You comin' with, aint'cha?" He calls out over his shoulder. "Promise, we won't be long. I'm not gonna miss me flight on purpose."

Deadshot lets Harkness guide him through airport until they end up standing in front of the men's restroom.

"What are we doing here, Digger?"

"Mate. Don't act dumb. We both know you've been oglin' this," he gestures with his finger at his entire body, "for years now. You don't wanna pass this opportunity by, do ya?"

The undeniable urge to slam Boomer's head into the wall has returned. "In a public bathroom? Seriously?"

"Oh, come off it, Floyd. Don't act above it. You can't say you and Harley didn't get up to some mischief in indecent places."

Floyd cannot bring himself to look at his face. This is how Digger wanted to spend their time together? Fucking in a restroom? He hates how that tickles his balls. Boomerang has always brought out some kind of rageful lust within him. He wanted to shut the Aussie up, thrust in his mouth, and leave him untouched as punishment. It seems that the man has caught onto those carnal fantasies, despite Floyd never saying them out loud. This is leading him down a path he thought he flooded with gasoline and set on fire. Lawton feels like he is burning now.

"Dont'cha wanna shut me up, Floyd? Now's the time."

"We'd be here all damn day if I did that." Deadshot snatches him by the wrist and drags him into the last stall on the right side. He closes the door and shoves Digger into it to keep it shut.

Floyd holds him by the neck as he sloppily kisses the Aussie. His unabashed moan that he cuts off with a squeeze prickles his brain, sending waves of arousal down his spine. Harkness grabs for and gropes his ass, his fingers kneading his cheeks like dough. Deadshot can already feel the Aussie's erection rubbing into him. He knew the man was hung like a horse but it definitely feels different when it is grinding on him like this.

As he works his hand in between them, Floyd takes a moment just to palm Digger. Feeling him shiver at his touch gives Lawton a pinch of regret that this activity cannot last all day. He wanted to fuck Boomerang until his voice gave out.

But they need to be fast.

Deadshot unzips and removes Digger's dick from it's prison, then takes out his own, and presses them side by side. Harkness' size overtakes his by girth and height. Pre gushes out at the touch, spilling over his fingers. He is uncircumcised too. Floyd shoves away the passive thought of getting on his knees so he can feel that foreskin in his mouth.

"Might look good on yer knees, mate. I know I do-"

Lawton really grips his neck. "Would you shut up?"

Pleasurable bliss is clear on his face with the drool streaming down his chin. Digger doesn't stop thrusting against him. He is attractive like that, debauched and desperate. Mouth wide open and his eyes rolled back. Another fantasy to pocket.

Using the spunk as a lube, Floyd furiously strokes them both. Lawton flexes and loosens his fingers on his throat, allowing the Aussie to breathe. But the moment he starts making noise, he cuts him off. Deadshot quietly pants into Digger's open mouth. Harkness surprises him by grabbing his face and kissing him. His tongue runs over his teeth and attempts to cram down his throat. Floyd closes around his tongue and sucks on it. Moaning deep in his chest, Harkness lifts his shirt and strokes Floyd's nipples, heightening the pleasure bubbling within him.

To no one's surprise, Digger comes first. He nearly hits the floor when his orgasm struck him if not for Floyd holding him up. With the broken wanton noises coming from the Aussie, Floyd climaxes soon after as Harkness hurriedly strokes him along.

The PA system on the loudspeakers call out Boomerang's flight number and announces that it is time to board. Rushed, the two frantically clean up their mess on the floor and themselves before darting out of the bathroom.

Chapter Text

This snow storm is like no other. The snowflake might as well be tiny shards of glass cutting into them. If Constantine was not miraculously here, for whatever reason, the squad collective doubt they would be able to make it towards shelter alive. It is a modest house, where they are now. Only holding one small bedroom upstairs and an equally small living room, kitchen, and bathroom.

Rick Flag, Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Katana, Parasite, and Captain Boomerang only make the space even smaller. Parasite hogs the lit fireplace and does not budge even as Harley and Boomerang kick, shove, and punch him to encourage him to move. Katana sits on the sofa with Rick taking up the other cushion. Deadshot remains standing, his red lens leers at John.

Unbothered, Constantine lights his cigarette and offers him a smirk. "You want one, killer?"

Floyd does not answer, his gaze ever unyielding.

"Suit ya self."

"What are you doing here?" He finally asks the burning question on everyone's minds... perhaps except Digger's, who is now fumbling in the kitchen and bitching about the lack of food and electricity.

"Was 'ere first before you lot showed up. What's ol' Waller havin' you do?"

"That's classified, Constantine. You know that." Rick pipes up, shooting an annoyed glance at him.

"Does this place not have any bloody blankets either?" Boomerang groans to himself. "I'm checkin' upstairs."

"Don't see why I need to tell you lot what I'm doin' here if you can't share." John quips with a smug countenance. "I saved your hides, didn't I? No need for hostility."

"Your presence is what brings hostility. If you're here, that means something bad is here too."

"Aww, Ricky, I ain't-"

"I found a blanket!" Harkness calls out from upstairs before tromping back down with the bed cover around his shoulders. He adjusts it around himself as he approaches them. "This place is a shithouse. Worse than me old home. Oi! How long are we gonna be here, mate? I'm warmblooded! I can't survive like this. All I found was a stale granola bar..."

No one seems keen on taking pity on the Aussie. He may as well be invisible.

Flag does not even look at Harkness. "Don't call me Ricky."

Constantine scoffs playfully. "You could be nicer to me, ya know? I could just leave ya here with the blizzard and all. Doubt it'll stop any time soon."

"Yea, maybe, don't do that?" Digger somewhat begs. "Could ya get some of that fire goin' again, Johnny? I'm gonna freeze."

"Keep talking and your tongue will freeze." Deadshot snips.

"No, it won't!" Boomerang rebuttals in a whine. He thinks on it for a moment. "It... it won't, right?"

Floyd does not respond. Harley falls in between Rick and Katana and takes over the conversation. Finally, that is what brings awareness to Harkness that his squad is essentially ignoring him.

"Dumb bikes... Oi," He addresses the only one here that will look his way. "You got another one of those fags on ya?"

"I'll do ya one better, Aussie. Let's head upstairs."

Immediately, Digger eyes him, put off by that offer. "And what are we doin' upstairs?"

John cannot help laughing. "Easy, mate. I'm just gonna do a bit of fire magic. Since no one here's got any manners, might as well take it elsewhere, yea?"

"Heh. Too right." Harkness follows him to the bedroom and they both sit on the rug.

The occultist moves his hands, muttering a few words before a fire ignites in his palms. He keeps one hand on top to disengage the smoke and one hand on the bottom, holding the flame. Constantine opens his hands by a fraction and feels the tendrils pull against him, desperate to lick the wood around them. John hums. "'Fraid, I can't make it any bigger than this or I'll burn the place down."

"What, you can't like, put it on the floor and keep it there?"

"I can keep it on my fingers. This house is man made, Harkness. It doesn't have anything I can grasp and bend to my will." Something is keeping it intact though, possibly just the structure of the place. John cannot feel any connection that isn't the snow outside.

"So, what, I gotta cuddle ya to stay warm?"

John slowly grins, which only irritates the Aussie. He holds back his laugh. Shockingly enough, Digger crawls closer but his grimace does not leave. He rests his back against the bed and holds out his palms near the flames.

"Don't say shit, alright?" Harkness mutters, his bottom lip poking out.

"Awh, it ain't that bad, Harkness. Could be worse. We could be snuggled up in that bed instead."

"Yeah, nah, rather take the fire than that." With the light licking his face, John can see how swollen and tired his eyes are. His nose and cheeks are bright red.

"Oh, don't lie, you know I'm a great big spoon."

"Yer a huge piece of shit."

"Ha! Speak for ya self, mate. I'm just sayin'. I am pretty warm underneath all this."

"Wouldya quit, Johnny?" Digger growls, gritting his teeth. "It ain't bleedin' funny."

"Ain't tryin' to be funny. I'm very serious. Answer me this, Digs," His voice lowers, coated in sympathy. "You really think they care down there? About you? You're gonna try and keep this facade up when they aren't there?"

The hurt on Harkness' face may as well cut through his skin. "They could hear us right now, John."

John listens in for a moment. Rick, Tatsu, and Floyd are talking about their mission with Harley interjecting with her commentary. "Nah, don't think they'd give a toss if we just left 'em behind."

"Sounds 'bout right for me..."

His face twitches from that comment. His hands clasps together, extinguishing the fire, and turns to Boomerang. "Come to bed with me, love."

His startled gaze darts to the stairs. John can only imagine what he could be waiting for. Laughter? Mockery? A door opening and them leaving? That would be idiotic, but Digger has always been stupid.

"We're just here a short time, Digger." The occultist tries touching his arm. "And I won't let 'em see us."

Without a word, Harkness stands up. John watches him remove his long coat and scarf, tossing them on the bed before crawling on top. Constantine grunts as he pulls himself onto his feet. He does the same, removing his own coat and tie. Too easy for people to choke him when he sleeps with it on. He is not planning on sleeping despite the rewarding, tempting heat from the Aussie as he slips beside him. Boomerang pulls him in and drapes the blanket over them. The occultist briefly cups his face and kisses close to his lips. Harkness responds by burrowing into his chest.

Digger sniffles, which explains everything John needs to know.

"Hard not bein' appreciated, ain't it? I get the feelin'." Constantine rubs his back. "Wish I could take ya away from it, love, but I fear I might make it worse."

Harkness snorts and snickers. "Doubt it."

"No... No, I wouldn't doubt it..." John cannot begin to explain what he has been through, even lately.

Apparently his tone gave too much away. Digger lifts his head and looks him in the eye. "You right, Johnny?"

"Huh? Yeah, course." White lies may as well be the Sisyphus' boulder, crushing the bones in his hands as he struggles to push.

He did expect Boomerang to kiss him so softly. He blinks and passively watches the Aussie pepper him with such chaste touches from his mouth to his rough fingertips. No amount of physical comfort could take away his pain. Was it still welcomed? Yes, but it only brought more guilt. He could never say no to company. He cannot say no to Digger.

John grabs him by his middle, flips them over and peppers him with kisses instead, making Harkness shout from surprise.

The night remains quiet aside from the storm outside and the occasional creaks from the walls.

Harley kicks her legs up and rests them on Parasite's sleeping form. "So you still thinkin' this'll all blow over soon, Rick? It's been what? An hour or more?"

Rick shoots her a noncommittal glare and sighs, "Be more patient, Harley."

"I don't like being here longer than we need to be, Colonel Flag." Tatsu states huskily, looking through the blinds. "John may be right about the weather. This is not standard hail."

"Let's just give it another hour. How long do blizzards typically last anyway? It shouldn't be too long now."

A different noise rises above the rest. It sounded more human than another whine from the roof.

Floyd perks up. "What was that?"

"I thought you were asleep this whole time, cowboy. Why dont'cha come sit?"

"No."

"You're such a-" Another whine interrupts her and the squad glances above them where the bedroom is located.

"Who's up there right now?" Rick stands up.

"Captain Boomerang and that occultist." Katana replies, unbothered.

"Right, forgot he was here."

"Which one?" Quinn asks him with a smirk.

Suddenly, a very clear moan cuts through the tension followed by a sharp shh!

"Holy shit!" Harley throws her head back as she bursts out laughing. She then quickly covers her mouth. She whispers. "Get 'im, Boomer!"

"Are they seriously-" Deadshot starts making his way to the stairs.

"Hey, don't bother them, Floyd." Rick commands, surprising the rest of the squad.

"You want to hear this, Flag?"

"Do you want to see it?" He jabs back. "They're at least trying to be quiet."

After a moment, Lawton shudders and returns to the den where he sits beside Harley, who is still cackling.

"I mean, I'll go look! I wanna know if Boomer topping or bottoming 'cause from what I'm hearin' it sounds like he's gettin' all warmed up takin' that devilish dick."

"Harley, please stop talking." Tatsu mutters, rubbing her temple.

Chapter Text

Apparently, Boomer was too damn masculine to stay in the medical ward. Waller was also too damn busy to care about his injuries from the last mission. Eh, she’s never particularly cared for Boomer, anyway. She just rolled her eyes at his charts. Harley gave the back of her head a mean glare. George nearly died that day. His vitals were terribly low on the plane ride back to the states. Harley stayed with him, unable to look away from his battered face that held a firm grimace.

He can walk around now but he really shouldn’t. It's been two weeks now and he still has to hold onto the wall. He tries to go about it by resting his back against it with one knee bent, or holding himself up by his hand with his feet crossed at the heel. Harley is sure he thinks he is being cool and nonchalant when in reality he is dizzy and nauseous. His breathing is still labored and his eyes cannot seem to focus on anything. He always looks lost. When he asks someone to repeat themselves, he is ignored. 

Harley takes him aside, which brings out a confused whine out from his throat.

“Wassgoin’ on? You… wanna take a ride on the boomerang, Harl?”

She guides him into his cell and points at the cot. “Lie down.”

“Nnmn bossy today, ay?” He snickers dumbly but obeys without a second thought, sprawling out on the cot.

Harley sits next where his head lays and moves him so that he is resting on her lap. She dotes on his hair, running her fingers through the strands. His dilated eyes pop open and gawk up at her with his mouth partially open. She still isn't used to his new look. Short blonde hair, a clean face. He looks completely different, but he was the same stupid Australian, always getting himself in the worst trouble imaginable. Trapped in a tube that slowly fills up with water, yea, that's new for Boomerang. Harley had an idea of what could be going through his head psychologically. If he wasn't terrified of water before, he sure is now. She knows his dreams are those same events repeating over and over. He wakes up scared and sweating every time. Going to bathroom for him seems doable but he does not wash his hands after. The sound of running water makes him involuntarily flinch which is then accompanied by shame. He won't even drink water and pushes the cup away from him.

As a former psychiatrist, Harley could not stand watching idly. The medical team is on Waller's beck and call and if she wanted to continue punishing Boomerang for his stupid choices on that mission, fine. But that did not mean Quinn could not intervene and put her degree to work. She stole soda from the kitchen and brought it to him during lunch period. Harkness was able to get that down without much trouble, which settled her nerves. The medical staff attempted to bathe him when they arrived at the prison but George broke one of their arms and bit the other trying to get away. Harley was not about to shove him in the shower room. She told him beforehand what she wanted to do and Harkness put his trust in her. It was a bit too easy to get Boomerang naked. She then stuck some silicone into his ears.

He focused on his breathing just like she told him to.

Despite that, he shook like a leaf when she lead him into the shower and she urged him to sit down. For a while, she stayed with him. Not doing anything just sitting together in the quiet. She waited for his say so and was surprised when after five minutes he gave her a nod. She filled up a sponge with soapy water and dragged it carefully over his nude form. He took that well, possibly because it was her doing it. Someone familiar and not strangers in scrubs and masks that grip him and hold him down.

His quivering hand reached out to her and she quickly stopped. Taking his hand, she inquired about his well-being but he wriggled out of her hold.

Then he touched her face and weakly encouraged her to get closer to him. She scooched next to him, soaking her pants in the process. He slowly leaned over and gave her an inert kiss on the cheek, just barely moving his lips in a pucker. Her professional composure plummeted. Harley dropped the sponge and held him tightly, where he slumped into her embrace. That was the extent of the bath for Boomer. She got the main areas clean enough, the hands, the pits, and the lower regions. They will try again some other time.

Quinn eventually found hand sanitizer and slipped it into his pocket so he did not have to rely on water to clean his hands.

Harley knew the other prisoners cared somewhat for George. He wasn't acting like himself. That annoying Aussie noise was gone and people actually missed it. But compassion is hard to come by in Belle Reve. There were a few dickheads from D class that tried to rile him up, splashing water on him or pouring it in a cup to make him jump. Knocking over the man who always bullied them was their new addiction. This happened while Harley was away. But from what she heard, Killer Croc, of all people, put a stop to that shit immediately. All it took was one horrifying crunch and Boomerang was left alone.

With Quinn gone on a solo mission, no one knew how to handle Harkness freaking out. He stayed in his cell some days just to be left alone.

Deadshot tried to get him to talk. Harley knew that the big bad assassin did, in fact, have a little soft spot for his rival. If things were the other way around, though? Yeah, she cannot imagine Boomer having any sympathy for him. Harkness did not take his pity well, however. He shoved him off and tried to start a fight. The next thing George knew after swinging at the air was that he was on the ground, trying not to remove his lunch from his stomach. Floyd just awkwardly stood there while the Aussie dry heaved.

Even Cheetah shared a bit of empathy with him, since water weighs her down significantly due to her fur. George seemed to tolerate her commiseration, but he could not look at her when he uttered his gratitude.

A blow to the ego, Harley diagnoses.

George cannot let himself be vulnerable despite... always being vulnerable as a man who strives so desperately to be seen as a source of masculine strength and great leadership. He is staring up at her and tears are rolling down to his ears. She wipes them away.

He always lets that go, just a bit, when he is around her. Alone with her. Harley is not sure if he does that because she is a doctor or that he simply gets caught up in his feelings for her.

Harley gives him a little smile and continues to give his scalp a massage. "Does that feel good, Boomie?"

"Yeah..." He replies, trembling. He sniffles. "You okay, Harl?"

She was not about to go into a spiel about her problems right now. This is not the time. "I'm just worried about you, Boomerbutt." Which isn't a lie either. He is constantly in her head. It wouldn't kill him to pay rent.

"... Said not to call me that." He blinks, feeling a tear drop down on his forehead. "Harl...! Hey... I'm gonna get better in no time."

"That ain't how trauma works, dude." She sighs.

She wishes she had the equipment or facilities to do more for him. Like all trauma, healing is going to be an arduous process. She cannot take away his fear of water over night. She knew that is always going to be there. She wanted to take him some place - that isn't a stupid prison for him to better recuperate. Get him a nice bed to sleep on instead of this hard metal cot that has a singular thin blanket acting as a bed sheet.

"Guess you'd know..."

"Yeah, I would. Don't force yourself into shit just to make me feel better, you hear me?"

She didn't want to rush him like she knows Waller will. If he can't go on a mission involving water, Amanda will scoff and dismiss him - or even demote him.

Boomerang has been yearning to get to A-block for a while now. Why try so hard to climb up the ladder? To usurp Deadshot, obviously. An idiot's endeavor.

"I hear ya, love."

"'Cause if I catch ya, you're not gonna like what happens."

Boomer just smiles, almost dreamily, at her threat. "Okay." He pats the cot. "Why dont'cha lie down with me, Harl? Much as I love yer lap..."

"As long as there's no funny business, Boomer, okay? Not until you can walk without falling over."

"I mean it might help..." He pivots when he sees her disapproving glare. "No funny business, yes, ma'am."

She huffs and settles down beside him where he shifts and takes her into his arms. A content hum is pushed out of her due to his warmth. As promised, he keeps his hands above her hips. Harley feels over his face, missing his beard. "You did good in the shower today."

"Yah... helped that it was you."

"I figured as much. Those docs don't got any bedside manners."

"Prolly helped more if you were naked with me."

She smirks, scratching under his chin with her nails. "Hmmmm, if you're good this week and try drinking some water, it might happen."

Boomer purrs, his head buzzing from the affection. "Bonzer."

"I did say might."

"I'm a gamblin' man, love. I'll take me chances."

Chapter Text

Waking up before Edward does not happen often, but he will chalk it up to the poor man feeling under the weather. He always feels ill when spring is drawing near. While Digger's allergies are worse than Riddler's, he does not mind acting as the caretaker. Nygma is so bloody dramatic when he doesn't feel good. Sneeze and then whine because he feels like he is dying. He would slink down in his chair like a toddler, bitching about how much his nose hurts or his sore throat.

Boomer remembers when he got sick during Christmas and how much he complained. They really are two peas in a pod. Two... sickly blokes in a bed.

Edward is cute when he is asleep. Every facial feature is soft. His mouth is partly open. His nose whistles as he breathes. Peaceful. Digger gingerly tucks the stray hairs that curl on his forehead. Riddler is so hyper aware of what is going on around him even in his sleep. His reaction, however, is only one eyebrow twitching. Harkness did not want to push his luck and accidentally wake him but he really needed to get up. Boomer wakes in spurts throughout the night. He isn't sure why his body does that. It is sometimes to pee but it is annoying otherwise. Feeling Nygma's arms around him, realizing that he is still in his bed in Gotham, safe, he is lulled back to sleep. Edward always has a tight grip on his shirt and his head is buried in his neck. If not his neck, he is resting on his chest. Sometimes Digger will be aroused awake and Riddler will be cradling him with his hand firmly placed on the back of his head to keep him close to his heart.

Boomer's hands can swallow Nygma's entire waist. Even when he is unconscious, his body shudders at Harkness' touch there.

Edward is a light sleeper. He always wakes up when Digger tries to get out of bed at night. He pulls on his shirt and softly begs for the Aussie to come back by whimpering. It takes a lot of convincing to get him to let go. And when Boomer returns from the dunny, Riddler welcomes him into his arms and kisses his face like he has not seen him in years. Nygma is so clingy even when he tries not to be. He is like one of those dogs that stand next to you while you're in line at the grocery and they really lean their butt on you but do not accept any pets. Edward is not a leaner but he is a hoverer. He takes any excuse to be close to Digger when they are in public, when he is acting as the Riddler. His folly is that he is convinced that he has tricked all the other Gotham rogues, but they know his weakness is the Australian.

They just have yet to do anything about it.

When alone, Edward helps himself. He rewards his restraint by pushing Harkness into the closest wall so he can feel in control. His sudden strength always surprises him. Boomer adore it, he bathes in his attention. At the end, Riddler fixes his suit, his hat, and slips his tie back under his re-buttoned vest. He clears his throat a few times before speaking, ushering them both on their way. Digger does not bother correcting where Nygma had blessed him with his hands and lips. His hat askew, his hair sticking up, his scarf and clothes disheveled. He stumbles after him, woozy from love.

His clingy nature comes out much more when he is tired. Digger is prideful. Riddler, the self-sufficient, independent, headstrong Riddler crumbles into a melting mess if Boomer ever decides to lean in and whisper in his ear, lower his voice an octave. Edward refuses to acknowledge that Harkness has an advantage over him in some way.

Your accent is not sexy, his arse. He knows how to break down his walls without his hands. And Nyma will fight back with a red cheeks, shoving him away, don't 'hey lil mama' me, you infuriating buffoon. It's not funny!

It is easy to get lost in memories around Edward. Digger wanted to save every single one on a hard drive so he can relive them fully, instead of piecing together shards.

He still needed to get up. Unfortunately, he is going to have to accept that he is going to wake up his lover too.

Boomer takes the hand tightly clutching his shirt and carefully pries each finger away from the fabric. Edward does not fight back this time, much to his relief. Harkness smiles and plants a chaste kiss on his cheek before heading into the bathroom.

With Edward still in bed, Harkness decides to start his day for him. He fills up the teapot and places it on the burner. Digger used to think that Riddler would prefer a lot of machinery and robots to do everything, but he is a traditional man. He likes doing things exactly how they are supposed to be done. The green teapot is well loved and only somewhat worn and the paint is chipped from over the thirty years of use. And he uses the same cup from when he was a kid. Forty years of use. The image that was once on the ceramic has been rubbed away by fingerprints. Nygma did not want to fix that. He called it a goodbye to childhood. From what Boomer could get out of him, it used to be of a cartoon character from a movie he watched until the VHS wore out. Digger did eventually get the name out of him: Basil.

Digger smiles, hear the telltale sound of shifting feet that carry a very groggy Riddler. Boomer does not turn around quiet yet, keeping an eye on the teapot to make sure the water does not boil over. His scrawny arms wrap around his waist as he presses into his back with a little whine.

"Mornin', doll." He squeezes his hand.

A little tug. "Come back to bed."

Harkness snorts. "Gettin' deja vu. Think the rolls are bein' reversed here, Ed."

"Lay with meeeee." The tug is stronger this time, more threatening.

"You don't want tea?"

Nygma perks up. He perches his chin on his shoulder and watches with keen interest as Boomer copies what he does every day to the letter. It is easy to memorize Eddy. He never forgets. He never misses a step. Honey goes in for two long seconds not Harkness' quick one-two. He gives it five stirs before holding it out to him. Edward takes the green tea and gives it a sniff test. He then lifts the spoon into his mouth. He smacks his lips twice and hums in approval.

"You're welcome."

"You put the pot back on the hot eye. Nine out of ten."

"Ah shit-" He remedies that and looks back to Nygma who nods. "Still wanna go back to bed?"

"... The recliner will do."

"Yeah?" When Edward remains standing in his spot, slowly blinking at him, the dingy light bulb in Digger's attic turns on. "Oh!" He goes over to the chair and sits down, spreading his legs for him. Nygma sets the mug on the coaster and descends onto his throne, bending his knees onto the lounger and smooshing himself into the Aussie's chest. Boomer presses the button on the arm that slowly lowers the back of the chair until Edward hummed again. Grinning, he pushes his lips into his temple. "Don't want breakfast, love?"

"Later..." Riddler mutters. His fingers mindlessly graze the stubble under his chin that he needed to shave.

"Can't get enough of me, can ya? Don't forget about yer tea."

He lets out a little huff and grabs his tea, taking a sip. Little stinker can't admit to his emotions he has on full display.

"Any plans from the big bad Riddler today?"

Nygma grunts, not amused by the teasing. "If I don't get better by the afternoon, then my plans will be pushed to tomorrow..."

"Anythin' I can do?"

"No."

"Eh, figured one day you'd say yes."

Edward scoffs. "Don't count on it..." He was right to worry about the Aussie fucking his plans up on accident. It was inevitable. Digger has never been a good follower. So, he stays out of his nerdy business. "You just continue to do what you do best." Edward continues.

Boomer blinks. "And what's that? Bein' yer pillow?"

"Well... Yes." He says almost guiltily.

Harkness shrugs with his shoulders and bottom lip. "I'll take the objectification."

Nygma leans and cushions his lips with his beard then continues to kiss him across his face.

Digger melts into the chair, giggling as warmth pools into his chest. "And the kissies..."

After a short kiss on the mouth, Edward is satisfied and settles once more. Boomer reaches over and grabs the remote. What was on TV did not matter to Riddler, he occasionally drinks his tea and tenderly pets the hairs on the back of Digger's neck. Soon, though, he falls back asleep and as extra carefully as the Aussie could muster, eases the drink out of his hand and places it back onto the coaster.

"My lil princess." Harkness chuckles.

Chapter Text

Digger was not much for dating. He knew he didn’t bring anything to the table when it came to a fulfilling relationship. He still could not wrap around what Edward wanted out of him other than sex. Boomer could not deny that it was nice being in his company and sleeping together without getting naked. He found it hard to leave on most days. He has his own place, of course. There are times where Edward would spend the night in his raggedy apartment. And even then Digger did not want the man to leave. He wanted to somehow find a way to physically connect with him that is beyond sex. Not that he wanted to go to Pyg to stitch them together, that would be a nightmare and not at all an option.

Harkness should back up a little. This is a lot of intense feelings for a man he JUST started dating. Granted, they knew each other for much longer. More than half a decade. Not in constant contact but enough to know what to expect. Digger would never have thought that this is where he would end up.

And he did not think Riddler would ever make him breakfast. It is not anything fancy; sausage links and eggs. He even brewed him coffee. Boomerang did not have the heart to tell him he doesn't drink the stuff, but how can he not now? He will just drown it with creme and sugar.

“Cheers, love.” He says without thinking, taking the plate from him.

Riddler pauses and looks over his shoulder at him. His brown eyes are always brimming with curiosity. It’s cute. He does not hesitate any longer, not wanting to raise any concerns. “You’re welcome.”

He hides the color glowing on his cheeks by turning away.

Harkness is the kind of person to haphazardly take naps in strange positions. Edward will catch him on the couch with his head dangling dangerously close to the floor, snoring away. He does not toss so when they are in bed together. Whenever Nygma wakes up, he is still in Digger’s arms as he was prior to falling asleep.

An answer to the riddle he was not quite looking for came along unexpectedly. At the halfway point during movie night, Riddler feels the cushions shift. Glancing over, he sees that Boomerang has curled himself into a ball, fast asleep. Edward sighs and reclines on the arm, his hand holding up his chin. This is not the first time this has happened – and he knows it won’t be the last. Digger is usually on his feet all day, unlike himself. This shouldn’t surprise him…

“I’m not quite into this film either, Digger.” He tells his sleeping form. “But I still want to know how it ends. I’m sure it is just as disappointing as the first half.”

Not five minutes goes by when Boomer stirs, not to wake up, but shifts around with his brows furrowed. He reaches out and paws the air.

Interest piqued, his attention is pulled from the movie and watches his unconscious boyfriend swing his hand.

“Reaching for something, dear? Knowing him, he may be trying to procure a beer... Huh, he mutters in his sleep.”

Uncoiling himself, his foot touches Edward’s thigh and Harkness suddenly stiffens.

“Oh? Did you find something?”

Digger grumbles incoherently, but it is nothing that Nygma can glean from. While still unconscious, Digger paws the couch and crawls heavily over to Riddler before slumping onto his lap where he remains completely still, his nose whistling. A smile slowly forms on his lips and he exhales in content.

Harkness tossed and turned in his sleep in search of him. Edward blushes at the thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a grown man rest his head on my lap before.”

He looks so peaceful there, happy. Riddler cannot help but slide his hand into his hair and stroke it gently. Digger presses further into him with a short grunt. His breathing grows heavier, slower. He is completely relaxed in his touch. Edward did not think he had this power in his toolbelt. A man such as Harkness is usually so cautious about displays of affection outside of the bedroom. He has not so much as given him a kiss or held his hand as of yet.

Too soon, possibly.

Funny that, they have explored each other’s bodies on and off over the course of two years – Edward sprung up the idea of dating and Digger simply replied ‘alright, yeah’ without much fanfare. Nygma was not exactly expecting any kind of yes out of him, regardless.

With this laying before him, clearly, Boomerang has grown so fond of him that he clings to him in his unconscious state.

And this act of pure vulnerability stabs Edward in the heart, love dripping out of the wound rather than blood. Riddler rests his back against the cushion. How can he divert his attention anywhere else? The movie now serves as background noise for such a splendor in his lap.

He brushes the blonde strands from his forehead. “Aren't you such a darling...”

“Boomie!" Riddler calls out, withdrawing from the walk-in pantry. "Do me a quick favor and run to that gas station south of here and get me some olive oil? It’s on the same street as that building you deem phallic." He glances through the fridge to make sure he has everything else he needs for lunch... No, he is well stocked. He could use butter instead but he only uses that for his toast. And his toast butter will remain untouched otherwise. "Just olive oil. I’ll be in your debt.”

Edward sneaks a glance to see how Digger reacts to that pet name, but to his disappointment, he hardly does. He gets up from the couch and stretches. “In my debt, aye? Lemme get my speed gauntlet.”

Nygma pouts to himself with his arms crossed. He keeps his voice neutral despite his disappointment. “I’m astonished that you still have that. I suppose Dr. Sivana does not miss it… or that Flash is none the wiser.”

“Flasher’s a bloody galah!" He shouts from the other side of the house. "He’s got noooo idea that I’ve got this. Plan to keep it like that.”

Riddler smirks. “I’d be careful. Super hearing and all.”

“It’ll be Supes and Flash that’s gotta keep up with me, Riddles." Boomerang returns with the blue bulky device on his arm. "I’ll be back in a uhhhh micro-second? Maybe? Ahh, doesn't matter–” He opens the door and the impact from his sudden burst of speed slams it shut.

“Riddles…” The pet name sits on his ears a moment more. “... That's acceptable. I suppose Boomie is not too unique sounding either. Perhaps, I should think of something else-”

He jumps at the door bursting open with a yelp. He turns to see Harkness has returned in under 15 seconds.

"Got it!" Digger announces, holding the bottle up like a trophy.

“Do that again and one of us is going to pay for a new door."

Guilty, the Aussie smiles and closes it gently. "I'll er... make sure to hit the gauntlet when I'm outside."

"Mmhm. You didn’t pay for this, did you?”

“What? Flash pilfers all the time, but it’s wrong when I do it?”

“I suppose the cameras cannot trace you, Mr. Faster Than Flash.” He plucks the bottle from him, their fingers gently brushing. Edward smiles, sweetly. “Thank you.”

“Uh, yea, yer welcome, Ed.” He replies, a bit of color on his cheeks. His thumb roams over Riddler's fleeting phantom touch.

His eyes stay on Digger a moment longer even as he turns around and heads back into the kitchen. Harkness clears his throat to ease the awkward air he must be swallowing. Digger falls silent. Unlike him. But the sound of his footfalls steadily approaching raising his heartbeat. The Aussie stands behind him and Edward reaches into the fridge. Taking the wrapped up raw chicken thighs, he turns and feels the air sucked out of his lungs seeing how close Digger is to him.

His green eyes are dilating. He does not smile nor is there any semblance of emotion on his face. Harkness is hardly serious. His blank but hungry gaze bores into him as he takes the packaging from him and sets it on the counter. “Now, ‘bout you bein’ in my debt.”

“Oh, for… Digger, can the sexual escapades come later? I'm about to make lunch!”

“Ey!" He pouts, "C’mon, I’m not gonna have ya do anything obscene!” He tugs on his scarf. “Was gonna ask if yew can call me Boomie again.”

For a moment, Riddler searches for a lie. Was that a blatant tease to rile him up? Scare him even? Digger refuses to keep eye contact now, glancing about, itching his face. That is usually his nervous tic. He is serious. A twinge of sympathy sparks in his chest. “Oh...! Of course, I can do that, Boomie. As long as you do the same.”

“Eh?" Harkness looks at him. "What, call you Riddles?”

“Mmmhmmmmmm.”

“... Sure thing, Riddles.” He replies with a grin.

Doing what he is about to do is a risk but Edward is in the mood for a bit of recklessness. While Digger is still a breath away, Riddler leans into him as he faces the counter, grazing his shoulder and hip into him. Like a cat marking a table leg with its scent.

He hears Boomer sharply inhale at the affectionate touch. Nygma carries on, grabbing the pans he needs and ingredients and spices from the pantry. The silence between them is akin to a stone sinking down an endless well, waiting for the bottom to suddenly appear. Riddler presses his lips together.

Finally, Edward is met by a bro-y punch to the shoulder followed by a graceless chuckle. Jostled by the impact, he gives Digger a sideways look with furrowed brows and a tugging frown.

Harkness recoils, "Uhhh... um... I'm, uh... I'm gonna take this off?"

At least he does not use the gauntlet to dash out of the room.

Digger wonders if he should even think of Edward the way that he does. The arsehole had a giant ego as is. Nygma does not exactly do anything to hide his face when he goes out as the Riddler. Boomer admires the moxy. Even though him doing that makes going out on the town difficult. He has to wear a disguise while Harkness does not have to try to not be noticed. While that stings, he ignores it for today.

This is their first “date”. His heart is hemorrhaging in his chest. His mouth is drier than cotton. He hopes on the outside he looks as cool as a capybara.

He did not reach for Riddler’s hand. That would be weird, holding a man’s hand in public. He slips his arm over his shoulders instead. Thankfully, Edward did not seem to mind that.

They decided to go see the giant tree that is going to be lit up in the middle of Gotham. As far as they are aware, no rogue is attempting to usurp the moment. Calendar man is in jail and Joker proclaimed to be on “vacation,” whatever that could entail.

Harkness thought about making a cheesy comment that Edward is much prettier than some foliage with lightbulbs on it. He has done it before and all he gets in reply is an eye roll. He decides against becoming a broken record. He needed new material. He already used the wickets lines a few days ago. That one at least got a small chuckle and a ‘very cute’ from Nygma.

Glancing at him, he sees that Edward looks rather bored. He is surveying the lights on the buildings but he is not making any comments like he normally does. Digger cannot help feeling the opposite. This is pretty. The tree lights keep swapping colors, like each color is moving to the top of the tree. Some stores put images that blink to show movement. Seeing all this makes him feel like a kid experiencing Christmas for the first time. But in a good way. He usually stays inside during the holiday season.

The fleeting thought crosses his mind of if Edward will get him something for Christmas. Should he get him something? Should he ask? He doesn't want him to feel obligated to when they haven't been dating that long– oh my god, there’s little tin soldiers marching in a line on a window sill.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” Edward states with amusement.

Digger blushes upon realizing that he had stopped their walk to look at the silly lights. He hurries them along. “Uh, yea, never really got anything like this where I lived.”

“I'm glad you’re having fun.”

Boomer looks at him. “You not?”

“I'm comfortable.” He says with a shrug.

“We don’t gotta stay here if yer not havin’ a good time.”

“If you are happy, Digger, then I'm satisfied.”

What do you know? The Riddler is not as selfish as he seems.

“Righto. But is there anythin’ you wanna do, beautiful?”

Riddler is unapologetic in his stare this time, blinking owlishly. His face may not be as bright as the tree but it is a decent contender. “We, uh… we can go get some hot coco?”

Digger got a stutter that time. He grins. “Sure.”

Edward has noticed a pattern.

That is his specialty after all.

After a few nights spent with Harkness and they depart their separate ways, Nygma cannot sleep as well as he used to before dating Digger. He finds himself dismissing sleep all together and burning the midnight oil.

Soon, Boomerang starts messaging him past one in the morning. A classic U up? opener followed by a short form video of something comically stupid. His sense of humor is befuddling. Edward does not understand the point of the cat spinning around or heads popping out of toilets.

When he tries to ask questions, Harkness merely replies, “dunno either but shit's hilarious.” but with horribly misspelled words and strange use of emojis

That is subjective, Edward frowns and writes back. “Go to bed, Digs.”

“Thassa new one🫢🤨” comes Digger’s message.

“What?”

“Digs 🫢🙄”

“Do you find it unappealing?”

“😒 no”

Riddler has become familiar enough with his texting style to know that that last emoji means that he is kicking his feet like a teenage girl. How does he know this? Peeping through his camera phone, just to listen to him snore or see what he is up to in Ohio.

When Digger sent that emoji last month, Edward hacked into his device in time to hear him openly gush to his plush unicorn. Nygma immediately closed the app and grinned to himself, felicity overcoming him.

“Are you certain?”

“🤑🤐😗 pretty sure”

Unable to deny his curiosity, Edward taps into his camera and looks lovingly into Harkness' crinkled green eyes that glow with glee.

“Strewth, I should say somethin’, shouldn’t I? I feel like I give him every name under the bloody sun…. OH!”

Riddler switches back to their messaging app.

“😗 Eds. Why u up so l8 🧈”

“Why the butter emoji.” Edward says out loud and in text. “And why are you referring to me as Ehlers-Danlos syndrome?”

"😰WGAT BO
BO
BO
NO!!!!
FUCK
I WASNT CLAL9NG YUO THT"

Nygma throws his head back laughing as Digger continues to spam him with excuses.

Chapter Text

“Out of everything in the entire world, you do not know what you want for Christmas?” Edward looks at him quizzically as if his answer is that bizarre. Suddenly, their dinner date at Nygma’s apartment has turned into an interrogation.

Digger briefly glances around. “Wassat mean?”

“It means I can fly to Germany and get you their finest beer. If you want, we can even go to Korea just to spend the day there.”

His stare only showcases an infinitesimal light of how shocked he is to hear Riddler say that. Go to another country like it doesn’t cost any money? Fly in first class? Just to spend a DAY there? He nearly chokes on the food still in his mouth. He swallows. “You’d do that for me?”

“I would not put it on the table if I did not want to do that, Digs.”

Used to only seeing that name in text, hearing it from his tongue brings a jitter to his heart. “We’ve only been dating for three–four months?”

“About four months.” Riddler agrees bluntly. “And what does that matter? I want to give you a gift.”

Feeling tears well up, he holds his eyes open and inhales with an occasional owlish blink.

Edward looks him over in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine! I’m good. Uh– I-I don’t know.”

“What are your Rogue friends getting you?” He inquires suddenly, his brows low.

“Nuttin’.”

“... Nothing?” He spits back. Oh no, his teeth are out in a grimace.

His reply is only going to feed that anger. “We don’t celebrate Christmas together. We all kinda separate. Len isn’t really into Christmas. Marco goes off somewhere. James fucks with the cops. I think Sam’s Jewish? Lisa and him are datin’ so I think they do their own thing.”

“And you’re just left alone.” His jaw is clenched.

“Uh, yeah. Heheh, you’re on the money… Yer, um, real intense lookin’, Eds, you right?”

“No.” His feet stomp on the wood as he stands. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing… No. No, no no no, this won’t do.” Frantic, Digger follows him into his bedroom as Edward continues. “We’re leaving. I’m packing our bags.”

“Whoa–where– where we goin’?”

“It doesn’t matter. You need to experience Christmas markets, the food– it’s deplorable that your team has a device that can take you across the world and none of you use it properly. What kind of friends are they?!”

“Eddy, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal.” He echoes quietly. He turns, an almost deranged gaze upon his face. Harkness stumbles back as if he was shoved. “Not a big deal?!” Edward then shouts. “None of you spend time together–!”

“We practically live with each other, Ed! Chrissie is just one of those holidays where we get away from each other. Like I said it’s no big–”

“Digger.” Riddler’s growl makes him flinch. “Don’t hide your pain from me.”

Boomerang sputters and laughs awkwardly. “Wh-what are ya talkin’ about?”

“I can see it. You must have asked at one point about Christmas… and when you saw that everyone had plans, you lied to mask your disappointment.”

Inhaling again, he fights tears that beg for release. “Why do you care so bloody much?” He bares his teeth.

Edward does not meet his anger. He responds coolly. “Because I am all too familiar with this pain.”

No further explanation.

None is needed.

Boomer can see another question beginning to form but he swallows it. Too personal for four months.

Even his outburst is intense for only four months.

He does not resume packing. He awaits for a reply. Unfortunately, Digger has no clue of what should be said. He almost wants to run out of the room, out of the house so he can breathe without feeling an overpowering weight on his lungs.

“Digs…” Edward gently returns him to reality.

Is he waiting on his decision now? There is no point to this in his mind. Nothing can make him feel better except a good drink. He did not want to ask anything of Edward. Finally being given something terrifies him. He is only going to make Riddler regret it. Paralyzed by indecision, he has not even gone out to get him something. It seems too late to ask him now.

“Digger.”

Harkness flinches at the close proximity.

“I don’t want to go anywhere.” He exclaims without thinking. “I don’t know what I want… No, that’s– kind of a lie. Just … don't laugh alright?”

“I won't laugh.” He promises.

“I wanna stay with you. I don’t care what we do. I don’t want to go back to the hideout or me apartment.”

Alone.

He did not expect Edward to accept him. “Then you are no longer going to be treated like a guest. You are to help me around the house. Is that acceptable?”

“... Yeah. Why not? Whatever you want me to do, love, I’ll do it.”

Riddler blushes. “Well then. I will hold you to that.”

Digger was still asleep when he left to get this week’s groceries. The Aussie is a heavy sleeper and Nygma simply needed the chore over with before the snow came in. As Edward opens the front door, he hears frantic footsteps bolt down the hallway and towards his bedroom.

“Digger?“ He calls out curiously. The confusion that sweeps over him drifts away as he enters the kitchen.

There is a steeping kettle on the stove and a broken– no, not just broken– a shattered mug on the floor. His favorite white mug covered with green question marks.

This just happened. Harkness was in the middle of making him some tea. His elbow must have hit the cup– or he was simply clumsy in his half sleep state.

Wide awake, he bailed at the sound of Edward’s return.

Rage does not build up inside him as he stares at the glass. The pieces were too small to glue together by hand. Sighing at the mess, he places the grocery bags on the counter and returns to the car to grab the others. That is first.

Second is not cleaning up the glass. The second step is to put away the frozens and veggies as well as mind his step.

Third is to take the kettle off the hot eye before the water boils out from the spout. Fourth is to put his shoes on the rack.

Fifth is to close his eyes and breathe. Rub his temples, the bridge of his nose. Run his hands through his hair. He takes a deep breath and exhales out of his mouth.

“He was trying to be sweet.” He reminds himself. “The destruction was not intentional.”

He does not grab his cane, despite the thought passing through. Walking into his bedroom, he immediately notices a disturbance. The closet door is opened ever so slightly. A factor not everyone would notice but with how Edward’s brain works, small details feel huge.

“Digger?” He pushes the sliding door to the side and peers at the corners.

He does not see a grown man nearing his forties cowering in the closet. He sees a small child curled up and hiding from his drunk step-father’s violent punches. Breathing so lightly and crying quietly into his hands so that he can remain undetected.

For a moment, Riddler thinks about drawing back and letting him work out his rampant emotions. That is what he would want others to do for him, but Harkness is different. He may get worse if Edward does not address this now. He might run where Nygma cannot follow. He must think their relationship broke with the glass.

Kneeling, Edward sits on his heels near the entrance. He knew better than to cut off an exit from a frightened animal. His head rests on the wall. “Do I scare you that much?”

“... I’ve seen you crash out over less.” He admits timidly.

Nygma can almost laugh. “You’re not incorrect.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“I am upset that my cup is rendered unusable.”

“... I’m sorry.” He sounds breathless. It hurts his heart.

“I know you are.” He has every right to be scared. Out of the two of them, Edward is shocked that rage is not hogging the wheel. It is hot, vengeful and quick. It cannot stop once it begins. At this moment, Riddler feels hollow. But from what? Hollow because his boyfriend is hiding from him? That his anger possibly reminds him of his past? There is no clear answer to that question without opening Digger up. So, Nygma is truthful. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don't?” The Aussie is in disbelief.

“It broke while you were going out of your way to do something for me… I hope you don’t think that gets you out of cleaning your mess.”

“... I can glue it back.”

“It is beyond gluing.”

Edward hopes that Digger does not take that to mean something on a deeper level– equating it to their relationship, a bond between two broken people attempting to make this unorthodox connection work.

“Come out when you're ready.” He grunts as he stands. The rest of the groceries are not going to put themselves up.

He hears the closet door roll as he restocks the canned greens. He waits until Boomerang’s slow steps make their way into the kitchen before he turns around. Already, the Aussie has a broom and pan in his hands. His head is down. Anxious.

Nygma does not watch him sweep the debris like a homeowner scouring at a maid. He works around him and eventually takes his reusable bags and places them in their spot next to the front door. When he returns, Digger is dumping the last of the glass into the garbage can.

“Thank you.” Edward says in a soft voice.

Boomer hums.

“Look at me.”

Harkness does. Somewhat. His nervous gaze darts to and fro. His eyes are puffy.

“I don’t hate you.” He repeats gently.

He nods slightly, muttering thanks. This is going to be the only thing he thinks about for a while, Edward can tell. If words are not comforting, Riddler may as well try physicality.

He grabs and yanks Digger into an embrace. The broom and pan clatter onto the floor. He feels his stomach seizure as if the Aussie is about to break into a sob. But he doesn’t. Eventually, he returns the hug, his palms firmly pulling Edward closer. He is practically clinging onto him.

How long has it been since Digger felt the warmth of an embrace? Edward doubts his rogue friends are that chummy.

Riddler sways them a little and he feels Boomer’s tense muscles slowly loosen.

Edward is not really a mall person but being inside one an hour before closing has a different feel to it. There is no rush. The music echoes softly off the ceiling. Something about the lights offer comfort.

It would be better if Digger held his hand. They were practically alone, aside from mall security that kept giving them dirty looks. They have gone into a few stores that were still open only to browse but that did not stop them from being monitored.

“Ooooh.” Edward almost whistles. Taking an earring from the sample case, he holds it up to his lobe and smiles at his reflection. “Do I want to pierce my ears again…?” He asks himself.

Ultimately, he places the jewelry back down and leaves the store… Soon, he realizes that the Aussie did not follow him out. He calls out to the distracted Digger who hurriedly walks out of the store with a guilty smile.

Riddler decides against falling into his insecurities and asking if he was chatting up with the pretty superintendent. It hovers in the back of his mind.

Their hands brush each other every now and then. He sneaks a glance to see his hand flex and his thumb nervously rubbing the underside of his fingers as if contemplating before unfortunately deciding against the act.

This is not a deal breaker. Riddler is used to waiting. However, he also wonders how he can help Digger feel more comfortable around him.

“Ah bugger me–!” Boomer hisses as he stops, holding his nose.

“Darling?” His voice goes up an octave in concern. Blood drips from his hand.

“Flamin’ nose bleedin’– Didn’t we pass by a dunny…?” He spots the restroom sign and sprints towards the hallway, nearly scaring the security stalking them.

Nygma gives the man a lingering glare as he passes him by as he shadows Harkness. Boomerang stands over the sink, looking at the mess on his hand before washing them. Edward rips out paper towels from the dispenser and offers them. Digger snatches the rough paper and blows his nose. When he pulls away, he gags at the sight.

“Auh, god, why did I look…?”

The abrupt exhale left a stain on his upper lip that has yet to be shaved and his chin. Grabbing him by the shoulder, he keeps Boomer on top of the sink so the blood can drain with the running water.

Edward takes the gross paper away from him and tosses it in the trash. He brings back more brown towels. Digger rolls one and sticks it into his nose. One glance into the mirror turns his face slightly green.

“Don’t look at the blood.” He tells him gently. “Look at me.” After wetting the fabric, he rubs the red off of his face.

Strange with how brutal this Aussie is, the sight of blood can make him queasy in an instant. Then again, the Rogues are not particularly known for extravagant murders, unlike the Riddler.

And yet he does not hesitate to strike. He desperately wants the Flash dead.

Glancing into his puppy dog eyes, one would not be able to tell that he is a small town criminal. Someone who dreams to be part of a bigger picture, someone worthy of respect, who instills fear into the hearts of innocent civilians. Someone who wants petty revenge and pushes it to the highest degree. Murder.

Edward can respect that drive. He can fall in love with that passion. He can stand here and spend hours proclaiming his adoration–

“You got the stares again, Eddy. Not that I mind. I am pretty handsome, even with blood on me.”

Riddler blinks, his face prominently flushed. “It, uh, certainly does give you a different look.”

His sweet little smile provides the opposite result. “Could hear yer gears turnin’, love.”

“I was simply considering ways to help stop this bleeding.” Edward forces himself to keep eye contact.

“Yea? You sure that’s all? Weren’t distracted by eh, somethin’?”

Nygma pulls the piece of paper from his nose and sticks another in its place. The blood flow is still fairly heavy. “Do you experience nose bleeds often?”

“Yeah, got weak veins up there or somethin’. But anyway, you didn’t–”

“Yes, dear, you’re very handsome.”

“Aww, don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“That just wasn’t from the heart. Tryna get me to shut up.”

“I never lie to shut you up. I do think you are handsome… and yes, I was distracted and a bit embarrassed about it.”

The wall Boomer was building fell, his face and shoulders relax. “S’alright, darl, I stare at you all the time.”

That really does not come as a shock with the amount of times Riddler has caught him ogling. “I am quite partial to your eyes.”

“Cuz you like green?”

“I adore green.” He puts immense emphasis on adore as he checks the blood on the tissue. He tosses it into the trash and it misses by a few inches. He huffs in vague annoyance.

Harkness tries to fight the giddy smile from creeping up his lips. “Guess I’ve grown to like green too. Got another color I’m partial on too.”

“Oh dear,” Edward exhales a breathy chuckle, throwing the bloody tissue away. “Go on, what is it?”

“Brown.”

“You’re so corny.” He dismisses. “And my eyes are practically black.”

“S’not true. You just gotta get’em in the right light and they glitter like gold.”

“Gold…? In what lighting?”

“Sunlight. Don’t work under any artificial light.”

“Sunlight… I suppose I have to take your word for it for now.”

The door creaks open and that same mall cop enters. Their eyes meet before he turns to use the urinal. Edward rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. He hands Digger another twisted paper and plucks the other out. The bleeding has calmed down but not significantly.

Nygma grabs some more towels and takes him by the wrist. “Come on, I rather not be escorted out of a damn mall.”

For a moment, he is met with instinctive resistance but Harkness allows Edward to guide him out of the bathroom, down the hall, and towards the entrance without a word. He feels his hand twist in his grip and his fingers wrap around. Riddler loosens his hold and to his surprise Digger initiates proper hand holding.

Nygma knows feeling this gleeful about something so chaste is embarrassing but the sensation convinces him to test this new boundary. He squeezes and immediately Boomerang squeezes back.

“Uh, thanks for helpin’ me out back there, Ed. You didn’t hafta.” He finally says when they leave the building.

“Hm? That’s no issue.” His smile drops. “Do your Rogue friends leave you in there when this happens?”

Harkness shrugs. “Meh, they sometimes check up on me after, like, ten minutes. It’s not big uh– I mean… I tell ‘em to not wait up.” Sweetly, Digger opens the driver side door for him. “Sorry if blood gets in places– you want me to ride in the trunk?”

Nygma sputters. “What? No! What kinda question is that?”

“Just teasin’ ya, love.” He winks as he closes the door.

Edward curtly curses his sensitive heart for jumping like a lovestruck fool.

When Digger lowers himself into the car, his hand digs into his pocket. “Eddy.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Merry Christmas.” He hands him his fist. “Open it up.”

“What is this…?” Edward laughs in confusion. He gently pries his fingers open and hidden away is a pair of green earrings he was looking at in that jewelry store. A sudden wave of relief hits him. “You… stole these.”

“Well ya, not like I can buy ‘em.”

“You swiped these in front of security! How on earth did you…?”

Digger’s grin might as well be a blanket around his chest. “Can’t give away all me secrets, now can I?”

“... I suppose the decision has been made for me to get my ears repierced.” He takes the pieces of jewelry from him and tucks them into his glasses case for safe keeping.

“Ehh, we can do that at home.”

“Should I trust you with a hot needle?”

“Prolly not.”

Normally, Digger is completely wasted on New Year's Eve. His memories of the night will be long gone and down the toilet alongside his stomach acid. With Edward watching him, he does not feel all that thirsty. The pub is getting louder the closer it draws to midnight. 

But the noise does not deter him from aiming to win a game of horse against an intoxicated Len, who is on R.

Harkness chucks a dart and just narrowly misses the bullseye. However, he is not done. Boomerang then throws another dart and it lands squarely into the butt of the last.

“Fuck off, Boomer.” Cold mutters angrily.

“Haha! Awh, Lenny, don’t be like that. I could’ve done worse, you know.” He takes out his darts and clears out of the way for Snart.

Leonard squints at the board, his head wobbling a bit. After a prolonged wait of him measuring his throw, he goes for it and his dart lands just under the target.

“You suuuuuck!” Jesse yells from the bar.

Cold tosses his second dart towards him and it breaks the glass Trickster is holding, making him yelp.

“Good throwin', Len." But Digger knows he can one-up that.

“I was aiming for his head…”

Boomer snorts. “Makes S now. Go on, your turn.”

“I need to hit the bathroom.”

“Sure, mate.” Harkness turns towards Edward, who sits by himself at a booth, and waves a dart. “You wanna try, Eds?”

Riddler did not seem much of a drinker. He sips his hot chocolate passively and shakes his head. “I think I would get Horse faster than Snart. I have never been good at darts.”

“Need me to teach ya?” He asks mischievously, placing a hand on the table and wiggling his brows.

“Do you really need an excuse to be close to me?” Edward rebuttals with a smirk.

“Mean, it’s sexier this way, ain’t it?"

Nygma does not answer. He swipes his finger across the whip creme on his beverage and dabs it onto Digger’s nose. Without thinking, Boomer stretches out his tongue to try and touch the tip.

“Very sexy, Digger.” He states bluntly.

“I can get it!”

He gives up after half a minute of trying. He wipes his nose and sucks the whip off his fingertips.

Now, Edward is looking at the junk on the walls with a pouty frown. His eyes are dark, no usual curiosity inside. Boomer glances around the Keystone Saloon. The space is small but crowded to the brim with rogues like Condiment King and Cheetah. Riddler is the only one in the whole shop in a suit. And the only one looking miserable.

Is this his doing? Is Nygma upset because Digger isn’t giving him attention? Or is he thinking ahead…?

“Think Len’s gonna be a while. Wanna get some fresh air?”

Edward simply hums and stands up from the booth. Harkness secures him close to his side as they waddle through the mass of wasted people and outside. Holding him, Digger brings him away from the parking lot to a bench where they both settle in awkward silence.

“You doin’ better now?” He asks after another minute. His hands rub firmly into each other to combat the cold air.

“Am I doing better?” Nygma repeats, monotone.

“Yeah, you looked overwhelmed in there. Figured it was too loud or reeked too much for ya likin’.”

He blinks. He still does not look like himself. “Oh. Aren’t you sweet? I tuned everything out, I suppose.”

“So, you zoned out, got overstimulated. We can stay out here. Go home if ya want?”

“No. I like it out here… It’s helping.”

“Oh, that’s good ta–” Edward adjusts his sitting position and leans heavily against Harkness. Blood roars in his ears.

“We have two minutes until midnight.” Nygma fills in the gap. They only get those close under the covers...

“Yea, uh, think Mick is gonna get the fireworks goin’...” He talks to distract himself. “Should be safe over here if anythin’ catches on fire. We’re far enough away. Your earrings look nice by the way. They suit ya. Maybe I should get me ears pierced too. I was thinkin’ more like those studs than dangly bits. When I was a teenager, I wanted a septum piercing. Tried to do it myself and I fainted from the pain. So I haven’t really tried that again. Also thought about gettin’ me nips done, but that’s gotta hurt worse, right? Cuz them’s way more sensitive, or at least mine are–”

“Boomsie.”

Digger makes a face. “Boomsie…?”

He rests his head on his shoulder, peering up at him. “Am I making you nervous?”

Fearing that he may pull away, Harkness puts his arm around him. “N-nah, it ain’t you… Rid…lesie? God no, that’s horrible.”

Edward breaks into a small giggle fit.

Good, he’s in a good mood. Good, good, good… Boomer takes a deep breath, preparing himself. “I dunno. Laugh if you want but… I want our first kiss to be pretty special. Not just… do it cuz we’re supposed to.”

“Oh!” He exclaims, pleasantly surprised. “That’s not laughable at all! That’s incredibly sweet, Digger.”

“You think so? You don't think it's stupid?”

“No! You want it to mean something. I find that quite admirable.”

“What? No kiddin’?”

“No kidding.” He says with a contentful smile.

No laughter. No teasing. No scoffing. Riddler does not even feel like a real person sometimes with the way he reacts. He’s…

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Digger utters impulsively.

Nygma breaks into a wide grin, a single brow quirks up. “Am I? Were you also thinking about kissing me just now?”

“Y-yeah… Would ruin my point if I did.” He affectionately squishes Riddler into his side--beepbeepbeep-BOOM! "AH SHIT! FUCK FUCK" His screams are damped by the fireworks overhead.

In his spike of fear, he clings onto Edward and upon realizing, he jerks his entire body away. There is no way to come back from that but clearly that does not matter to the Riddler. The man is offering foam earplugs, which he takes with some hesitation. Not drinking away his regrets while ringing in the new year is definitely a fresh start. Being in a relationship with the Riddler was also something he definitely did not think would happen in his life time. Nygma seems to actually like and respect him, bizarrely enough. Edward really is not one of the guys.

He glances at Edward who is also sporting those green earplugs. Of course, they are green.

He seems happy watching the fireworks. Happy that Harkness is putting thought into their relationship. Content that he wants this to be special.

What they have is already special. Digger feels heard for once.

Boomerang takes his hand into his and raises it to his lips, where he kisses his knuckles. Edward's head whips to gawk at him, making him jump. His curious eyes are back and they bore into his soul.

"Happy New Year to us?" He gives him a nervous lopsided smile.

He should have known but it surprises him regardless. "To us." Riddler puts his hand to his lips as if sealing a silent pact between them.

"I'm gonna fuck ya so hard tonight."

Nygma snorts- it is a good one too- one that brings him pride in making him laugh so hard. "My word! Haha!"

Chapter Text

Cold slept in today. Not completely unlike him, but it was odd to wake up to a quiet hideout. He already scanned the kitchen for any life and found a note from Lisa stating that she, Sam, and Marco are off grocery shopping and Trickster and Mick are doing maintenance on Boomerang’s van in the garage.

Captain Boomerang is back on the team, arriving yesterday night. Len would have sent Sam to go get him, but he wanted to see Digger’s determination to come back. Crazy bastard snuck into the cargo hold of a plane headed to America and had to take multiple buses to get to Ohio.

There was not much time for celebration with him fighting jet lag and general exhaustion. He fell asleep the second he landed on the couch.

Speaking of, the Aussie is no longer there.

If Lisa did not write down his whereabouts, he must have still been asleep when she left. Snart can look for him after he goes to the bathroom.

And that is when he hears that obnoxious accent proudly singing Pink Pony Club.

He is practically yelling the pre-chorus like it is his own personal confession. Damn, he is putting his heart and soul into it too. Leonard stands there, impressed.

As he goes into the bridge it almost sounds like he is crying with the way his voice cracks. He can hear the faucet turn off but Digger is still going strong with those vocals. He is definitely not the best at singing but what he lacks in breath control, he makes up for in emotion. He does not even lose his accent when he belts.

Snart may have gotten a bit distracted listening, because when the door finally opens he is met with a horrified - and thankfully clothed - Boomerang. “How long have you been there…?!”

“Like five seconds– would you move, I’m about to bust.”

Digger hurries out of the doorway and Len shuts the door behind him.

“You didn’t hear anything, right?” He eventually calls out, masking his fear by deepening his voice.

“No, Boomer.” He lies, waggling the drops from his dick. He turns on the shower. He prefers it cold anyway even before his moniker.

“If ya sure.”

“Yup. I am.”

He has not changed in that regard. A weird comfort. It would be like a slap to the face if Harkness owned it. But with that comes another thought. Cold carefully searches around the bathroom, looking for any signs of discoloration. He finds it high above the mirror. He stands on the toilet and opens the small panel on the wall to see Trickster’s recorder.

Apparently, Axel thinks it is completely fine to go against his rules so he can welcome Boomerang back with an ill-mannered prank. He could destroy it, but a different idea pops into his head.

Normally, Snart does not arrange parties. The other Rogues are content with providing the entertainment themselves. Before Lisa joined their gang, Digger would always bring the women and drinks. Mick was the grill master and a showoff with the fire. When Jesse was alive, he brought mixtapes and became a self-appointed DJ, despite Hartley’s frustration. Marco enticed the girls with his wand. Sam enchanted them with some party tricks he could do with his mirror gun. Roscoe… was there.

They have grown since then and not just in age. Sobered up and matured, but still partaking in alcohol only on special occasions. Two died, one quit, one replaced the other of the same name, and then Digger was laid off for his incompetence only to get scooped up by Amanda Waller.

This party is not reminiscent of the past. No rave lights or intense fires, although Heatwave did fire up the old grill for nostalgia’s sake. No decorations other than a makeshift Welcome Back sign that Sam made for Boomerang. Marco and Lisa decided to get twenty four cupcakes with different flavors so everyone got what they wanted, instead of a traditional cake.

Seeing that Aussie stand there smiling with tears in his eyes and watching him try to rub those away with his hand makes him feel soft and light.

Mick puts his hand on Digger’s back, patting. “Boomer, you good? Got something in your eye?”

“Yea, ah, think some barbeque got in there– I-I mean, it’s spicy. Makin’ me eyes water.” He licks the sauce and icing off of his lips. “Feels like we’re celebratin’ a birthday ‘ere.”

“Yours is May 19th, right?” Len guesses while chewing his cupcake, “It’s coming up.”

Color blooms on his cheeks. “Shit, I didn’t think you’d remember, Cold.”

“Hey!” Sam pipes up, half offended. “My birthday’s before that, Len!”

“When’s yours again?”

“It’s literally a month before Digger's, it's April 19th.”

“And mine’s also a month before Sam’s.” Heatwave does not hesitate to jab him. “Or did you forget that too?”

“Yeah, I remember your birthday, Mick. It’s the 22nd, right?”

“It’s the 13th you asshole, the 22nd is James’ birthday.”

“Shit, it is.” He avoids Digger’s curious eyes.

Sam elbows Marco who looks at him with furrowed brows. “What? He knows mine is in June.”

“Dammit, Marco!” Mick shouts, “don’t give him a freebie!”

“It’s June 4th, I remember it because it’s a month before the Fourth of July.”

“Wooowwww, and you couldn’t remember that mine is a literal month before Boomer’s.”

“Do you remember when mine is, Leo?” Lisa prods, invading her brother’s space significantly.

Snart does not back down. “‘Course I do. You’re my sister.”

“Mmmhm, so when is it? We just celebrated it.”

“February.”

“Uh-huh, we are still in February, very good.” She remarks condescendingly.

Leonard takes a big bite of his cupcake. “Mm. This is good– quality, actually. Did you go over budget for these?”

Mick leans over and whispers loudly in Digger’s ear. “Fuckin’ jackass doesn’t remember his own sister’s–”

“I remember!" He spits. "It doesn’t prove anything in this argument!”

“Snart, mate,” Great, now he has to look at the Aussie… “Why do ya remember mine?”

“Because–”

Trickster kicks down the front door. “The party can start now because I’m heeereee~ And I got a pretty awesome gift for ya, Boomerbutt!” He holds a wrapped up box over his head as he struts into the kitchen.

For once in his life, Cold thanks God for Axel Walker.

Harkness glares at the kid. “Don’t bloody call me that. And you, Trickster? Got me somethin’? Nah, I ain’t openin’ it.”

“Oh commmonnnn you gotta be christened by me, them’s the rules.” He says as he jumps from foot to foot.

“That is not one of the rules.” Snart cuts in, standing up. “Axel, give me that.”

“Oh my god, it’s not bad, dude! Fine, I'll open it!” 

“Don’t–!”

Ripping the lid off, from the box Snart’s voice blasts through singing Taste.

If it wasn’t for the audio playing the room would be dead silent. Cold prides himself on his stellar poker face and he holds it through the initial shock. Marco slowly raises his finger to point at the box. “Len, is… is that you singing?”

“Are you getting into AI, Trickster?” Mick inquires through a laugh.

“What?! No! This isn’t– Shut up!” He grabs the recorder and fumbles with it before finally turning it off.

“That’s why my CDs keep getting misplaced!” Lisa crosses her arms. “It’s you!”

“Axel.” Cold growls. “Why the hell did you record me while I was in the shower?”

“It’s– no! It was Boomerang! It’s supposed to be Pink Pony Club. I heard him singing it!” Realizing far too late, Axel saves face in the worst possible way. “I-I mean, come on guys, we all know he has a unicorn fetish, right? I was just trying to–”

“Whatever you were trying to do does not matter here, Axel, I told you to stop doing this shit. Boomer’s return does not give you a pass. You know what, you’ve been a little shit all week more than usual. You’re grounded.”

“What?! You can’t ground me– I’m twenty-one, I’m not a kid!”

“One!” He holds his index in front of his face, making Axel flinch. “You went against my rules. Two: You disrespected not only my privacy but also tried to get into Boomer’s. Three: You sure are acting like a child. And if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Four: grounded. End of. Go to your room.”

Yelling in frustration, Axel stomps all the way to his room and slams the door.

Cold runs his hands through his hair and huffs. “His generation gives me a headache.”

“You adopted him.” Lisa reminds him with a smirk. "Also wherever you hid my disks, give them back. I'm serious."

“I will-He proved himself! What he needs now is discipline and maturity.”

“No offense, Len, I’m saying this as your friend but…” Heatwave snorts. “Maturity? You?”

“As leader, I can ground you too, Mick.”

Mick gives him a condescending hand wave, nonverbally saying see?

“You refuse to do karaoke and yet you sing like that?” Marco scoffs.

“I’m not that good, Marco.”

“You like Sabrina, huh?” Sam asks with a snicker.

Len shrugs, “I like that one song.” Digger looks like he is still recovering from that shock, yet his gaze has never left cold. It is like no thoughts are passing through that head empty of his. “You good, Digger?” He pokes.

“Eh– yeah! Yeah, I’m good.”

He punches his arm. “Loosen up, man.”

That dissipates the tension from his body. Harkness grins and returns in kind. Snart blocks it and pulls him into a noogie.

Hours after the celebration, Cold found himself walking into Harkness’ room. He knocks as he opens the door. Boomerang looks ready for bed, shirt and beanie off. He pauses while in the middle of kicking off his boots to look up at his surprise guest.

He gives him a pleasant smile that creates a new warm sensation in his chest. “Hey, mate. What’s up?”

Snart glances back and forth down the hall before closing the door behind him. “Hey, just wanted to apologize for scaring you back there, Digger. Axel needs to learn his lessons the hard way.”

“Nahhh, it’s no big…” He stops again, his smile morphing into a firm line as his mind spins. “Wait. You knew? You heard me?" He hops onto his feet, anger behind his eyes. "You lied to me?!”

“Still saved your ass didn’t I? Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Hang on a tic. You let your secret loose so mine wouldn't…” 

Snart is not typically someone who smiles a lot but he gives a rather soft one to Digger and nods.

Boomerang slacks, his eyes open and his jaw slightly hangs in shock. His teeth click together. “Whaddo I owe ya?”

“How about a beer? You can buy me one after our next heist.”

“Yeah, sure, mate. Sounds good. Um… Thanks?”

“Mmhm, try singing from your diaphragm next time. I think that’ll help.” He says as he takes his leave. 

“Uh–y-yeah, ok.”

Leonard steals one last look to see his red perplexed face stare at the floor, the one shoe halfway off his foot completely forgotten.

They sat in a way that their limbs did not touch. If Harkness was a woman, he would take a vastly different approach, have the Aussie sit in his lap and place his hand on his hip. Digger can lean into his chest. Even if Len did want that and asked for it, Digger would give him a disgusted look and laugh at it off.

Indeed, Snart has always had a soft spot for him. Despite his constant irregular behavior, Cold allowed him back onto the team when he proved himself. He was finally out of Belle Reve for good. Leonard could not deny how impressed he was with his plan with their common enemy. He wanted that Boomerang and now he is sitting beside him, drinking. 

Digger looks much better than he did in the past few years. Healthier, stronger, being part of the Suicide Squad has made him more resilient. He took proper care of himself when he was released back into his natural habitat of Oz.

Perhaps, that is why Cold is suddenly looking at him this way. Boomer has grown to care more about his team, thrown himself into oncoming danger if it meant sparing his mates.

Snart would never openly call him heroic. Stupidity and bravery toe a fine thin line that Digger hops back and forth on. He went up against Slade without cowering away. Deathstroke. The greatest mercenary to ever live. Digger survived that battle.

He has changed significantly.

And here they are, drinking on the rooftop, as if this was just another normal Saturday. It is and yet Snart cannot look at it that way.

“Really appreciate this, Len.”

“No problem.”

“It’s nice bein’ back ‘ere. I’ve missed it.”

“It’s good to have you again.” He claps him on the back. “You did great out there.”

“Ta, mate.” Boomer takes a swig. “Feels good… Somethin’ you need ta tell me? Don’t remember ya bein’ so touchy.”

He glances at his hand still on his back but he does not feel compelled to pull away. In fact, he adjusts the position so that his arm dangles off his shoulder and he leans towards him. “I believed that being there would do you some good and I’m inclined to think I was right since your performance tonight knocked your old self out of the park. But you left you sized hole behind. I sometimes wondered what they were having you do.”

“Don’t think you’d believe it even if I told ya.” A sly smirk stretches across his face. “You really missed me, huh? Did ya think about breakin’ me out?”

“Sometimes. If I did, though, I wouldn’t be talking to this Boomerang.”

“Like the new and improved version, Cold?” Digger chuckles and dips his head. Their noses inches apart. “Sounds like yer startin’ to play favorites.”

“Just might if you keep this up.”

“Dunno, mate. Think you’re already playin’. Mean, sure, you had to have known the tape was already there. Found it, could’ve just given the tape to Trickster, ground him there. You didn’t have to do all that just so you could have my attention. Think you wanted me to see you stand up for me.”

“Is that what you thought that was for?”

“Oh, yeah, maybe I gotcha hooked on me singin’ aye? Maybe, you wanted to be the one to comfort me… Come off it, Lenny.” Two of his fingers lift his head up from under his chin. “You’ve let me back in plenty of times now. Think part of it is cuz I’m your favorite.”

Leonard meets his self-satisfied grin with a cold stare. “I like that you bring women and drinks.”

“Been ages since then. Did you really look at those sheilas, Snart?” Snart feels trapped under those green eyes. “You wish I was one?”

Harkness flips down his hood, revealing his platinum blonde hair that falls loose over his face. Len does not stop Digger from brushing them to the back and looping the longer strands over his ears. “Sometimes.”

“I kinda picture you as one too…" Len feels his heart accelerate faster and faster the longer Harkness stares at his lips. But then he sits back in a huff. "Can’t really work out like this, can it?”

"... I don't know."

"Be hard to picture me like a shieila with me beard 'n all. You, least, got the long hair goin' for ya. Pretty face too."

Blushing, Cold takes another swig of his drink. "You're drunk, Boomer."

"Nah, I ain't drunk. Liquor gets me lips loose. Think you'd be more of a hit with the ladies if you didn't always have yer face covered up by those geeky goggles, mate. And the hood. Would help if ya got better at flirtin'-"

With liquid confidence filling his belly, Snart pulls Boomerang into his lips. In a million years, he would never have imagined them actually feeling soft. He did not stop the Aussie from climbing onto his lap. Or from cupping his face to deepen the kiss. Or from pushing his back to the ground. Only Harkness makes noise for both of them, quietly huffing and grunting, especially when Len’s hands travel underneath his belt.

Whining in complaint, Digger breaks away. “Crikey, yer bloody hands are freezin’.”

“Gotta warm them up somehow. Come here–” Len rolls them over just so he can hear the Aussie squeak.

Chapter Text

He could not have been reading this wrong...

"How about a friendly game of darts then?"

Deadshot has always been a hard ass. And sure, Digger was using this opportunity to try and humiliate him and his dumb mustache.

In all honesty, he was attempting to get on his good side in his own way.

Which, of course, never works out for him.

Floyd accepted his proposal. They are both equally skilled in aiming. Guns, boomerangs, it doesn't matter. Harkness considered Floyd a perfect rival. First up to throw, Digger showed off by turning around and chucking the dart through the air, which landed him close to the bullseye.

The crowd around them cheered, raising their glass. Feeling his pride swell, he basked in the praise a moment longer and gave Lawton a challenging grin.

As always, Deadshot was quiet. He stepped up with his dart. Digger took a moment to really look at the backside of him, contemplating- No, he wasn't considering any kind of foul play. He was looking right at his firm ass that is lovingly gripped by the spandex there. Floyd flung it to his right, where the dart proceeds to bounce off bottles, the ceiling light, the table until it landed smack dab in the middle of the board. Digger faltered. His brows go up. He was unable to deny that that was downright impressive.

Not like he was going to tell him that.

"Lucky shot." He told him.

"Right, let's see you do it." Calm and professional. 

He can copy that easily. Actually, he can do him one better. Digger aimed and chucked the dart towards the bottles, that ricocheted off the chandelier, u-turned as it hit the table, and would have pierced Deadshot between the eyes if he had not caught it. His grimace sends a chill up his spine.

"Sorry, mate, looks like that one took a bad bounce." Digger could not help give a sultry grin. What he deemed sultry, anyway.

Lawton does not bite. He flicks his fingers and off the dart ascends, colliding into another bullseye.

Harkness gawks with an open mouth before that mouth is attacked by a heavy punch.

"Let's call it even." Deadshot said calmly as he walked out of the bar. "Mate."

Even as he laid on the floor, Digger felt his insides set ablaze.

Now he stands at his bedroom door. He already shooed Harley away. She and him shared the same idea about Deadshot but first come first serve and if he fails, Harley can snatch Floyd up.

Cowboy is fair game.

He doesn't knock first. No point in that. He can hear the shower running.

Closing the door behind him, he shrugs off his duster jacket and lets it fall onto the floor. He kicks his boots off, followed by his pants. He throws his scarf and shirt onto the dresser, which leaves him in his underwear. He thumbs the waistband in thought. He is not Harley. He does not exactly have womanly assets to rely on. Deadshot is much bigger than him too, physicality wise. His cock probably is not that impressive. Boomerang grins, chuckling to himself as he drops his underwear down.

"Yeah, it'll do him in." Hearing the shower cut off, he jumps onto the bed and lays on his side.

Eventually Lawton exits the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He freezes when he sees Harkness Digger would have laughed at the disgust on his face if he was not trying to get into his pants. "Jesus Christ, Harkness!" He puts up his hand to cover his penis, but his fingers briefly spread to sneak a peek. "You have the wrong room!"

"Nah, I don't." He tries with a sly smirk.

"Get. Out."

His lips curl back briefly. He tries again, standing up and rounding the bed. "C'mon, mate, I know I wasn't dreamin'. You doin' all that was an invitation."

"Punching your face was not an invitation to show me your dick." He fights to keep eye contact.

"You're havin' a laugh. Look at you, you can't help lookin' at it."

"It's huge, dude."

His charm is working. "You gotta admit it, Floyd. You can bloody taste that tension between us."

"What you're probably tasting is beer. I can still smell it on you."

Digger was not about to get on his knees and beg. The facts are in front of him with Floyd making full eye contact with his cock.

He leans to catch his gaze and snickers. "Floyd."

With his eyes closed, Deadshot inhales deeply and sighs. "We'll do it under one condition- maybe two."

"Let's stick with one. Choose wisely."

Floyd hums in agreement. "I'm the one fucking you."

Harkness feels his jaw throb. That statement might as well be sucker punch. He puts his hands on his hips. "Seriously? You don't want to try this out? You scared it's too big?"

Lawton shrugs. "All I've got to say to that is... I don't miss."

Another punch. Deadshot had to be taking the piss on him now. Testing how bad Digger wanted this. He drags his tongue over his teeth. "Fine. Deal."

His brows and inflection raise. "Really?" 

"Yeah, but I get a condition now."

"Shoot."

He prods his chest with his finger. "You don't tell anyone about this. This stays between us."

"Works for me." He picks him and tosses Digger onto the bed as he shouts in complaint. 

His protests are silenced the moment Floyd crawls on top of him. His dick rears his head at the sight of this buff man over his much leaner frame. For an assassin that would rather stay far away than get up close, why the hell is he so big? Boomerang feels his hand on his face, lifting his head. 

Deadshot smirks down at him. "Got quiet all of the sudden."

"Don't get used to it." He spits through gritted teeth.

He surely was not quiet and Floyd was not gentle. No, he surely did not miss and he rocked the Aussie until his throat was dry and sore. He clung onto him, nails digging into his skin even as he climaxed with such unnatural power he was unused to. There must have been something about the way he shouted or the funny faces he was making; Digger had no idea what was the cause but Floyd was kissing him. Boomerang tightens his hold around his neck, desiring to keep him there. He wanted to bite his stupid mustache off. Harkness grinds against him to meet his thrusts. And as Lawton grew closer, he attempts to pull away but Digger wraps his legs around him. 

"Come in me, ya bastard."

Fuel to the fire. Harkness is giving Lawton more to think about throughout their mission. How can he care when this is the best root he has had in his life? Everything afterward would be worth it. Even waking up in the morning with Floyd's arms around him felt good. A victory.

Except it really wasn't. When it came to butting heads, Lawton would smile all smug, forcing Digger to recall that night. Harkness would bristle and grind his teeth in frustration before throwing a predictable punch. 

Boomerang gave Deadshot an automatic win to every argument.

Chapter Text

Another movie night that would lead to a sleepy cuddle session and then off to bed– or at least that is what Riddler would prefer how this night to conclude.

“It’s a thriller, taking place during the oil strike in Scotland where a drilling goes wrong.” He had explained to Digger and hearing that synopsis, he agreed to it.

However, when a monster with a giant head and grotesque limbs surge towards the protagonist from the cracks in the wall, Digger jumps and grabs Edward by the arm with both of his hands as he shrieks. Startling as the scene is, Nygma does not move. He glances towards the Aussie and sees sweat billowing down his temple. So much for believing he was doing surprisingly well with the movie; there have been two other chase scenes up to this point. He must be groping for confidence.

Riddler carefully puts a hand on top of his and suddenly Harkness pulls him into his side. “It’s alright, Eddy. Okay to be scared.”

“I’m… not scared.” He admits, deciding against honoring his excuse.

“S-ure you are! No need ta lie.”

“The only one lying is you.” Nygma mutters to himself. 

Digger’s anxiety and fear throughout the remainder of the movie was not an ick so to speak. It was a rather rigorous, adrenaline pumping yet depressing film that even convinced Riddler to feel a form of pity for the tragic hero. 

However, Nygma dislikes how Boomer tries to project his nervousness onto him instead of facing it head on.

Harkness is a grown man not a child, despite the way he acts on occasion. Edward is not going to make him talk about his feelings.

“I’m just sayin’, Eds. If ya need to hold onta me extra tight, I’ll protect ya.”

“Yes,” Edward remarks as he flosses his teeth, “because I am so terrified of the CGI monsters that animators created.”

Boomerang’s reflection flinches and he awkwardly scratches his neck. “Mean… somethin’ like that could be out there. Similar to Brainiac or Starro. Out in the sea. It’s possible, Ed.”

“Digger. It’s a movie.”

“Yeah, and I’ve seen Alien and I’ve been ta space where the burstin’ is REAL!”

“Fine. For the sake of argument, it’s real. The moment it becomes real, you won’t stay and fight like you continuously claim. You’ll leave Gotham as fast as you can carry yourself.”

“N… no.” He replies softly, guilt in his face.

“Digger, I know you want to play the hero. You want me to swoon at your bravery but we both know who you are. I think in due time you can become more confident but that is not today. If this invasion happened at this very moment, I would gladly protect you.”

Unfortunately, Boomer is not happy with that answer. He emphasizes his pout by crossing his arms. “I don't need you to protect me.”

“I handled myself just fine before I met you, Digs. I am not weak or in great need of assistance in times of crisis. I am not desperate for a man to save me.” As he speaks, he can visually see how Digger's insecurities form on his face. He sinks down and rests against the bathroom door, looking more and more glum.

“Right, yeah. I getcha.” He picks at the skin on his fingertips.

Edward is not about to go out of his way to make Boomerang feel better about his fragile masculinity. He is not a therapist. But he also does not need him to work himself up about his faults. He rubs lotion over his face and hands.

“Feeling bad about yourself is not going to provide improvement. Focus on what you can do today, darling.”

He shuffles in place. “Do ya not… want me to be your knight?”

“I want you to be my lover. I don't fantasize about unrealistic scenarios. Work on it if you wish.”

Still, the Aussie stands there, a gloomy cloud above his head.

Nygma huffs. “Digger Harkness.”

He quickly straightens up with wide eyes.

“Stop that. You said so yourself didn't you? It’s alright to be scared.” He twists his words. “Don’t you like it when I hold you?”

“I uh… I, I mean yea, but y'know, don't go gettin’ a big head about it. Or tellin’ anyone…”

Finally, Edward turns off the light and Digger follows him into the bedroom. Riddler lays down in the Aussie’s spot, which inspires him to pause and look on in confusion.

“Ed, what’re’ya doin’?”

“Climb on top of me.” Riddler commands, opening his arms.

“Uh–I’m kinda heavy.”

“So? Turn off the lamp and lay upon me.”

Harkness obeys without question, wiggling under the covers towards him. Edward feels a smile form as Digger climbs on top of him and holds him. Riddler lets out a quiet hum and lovingly strokes his back. After a minute, Boomerang fully relaxes in his embrace, his lips practically kissing his collarbone.

Edward only wishes Digger will soon feel more comfortable with affectionate touches like this in the near future. Perhaps even so much that PDA no longer concerns him.

Edward had just come home from the worst heist of his life. He has a wall of canes in his warehouse, all labelled accordingly. He has shown Digger the warehouse a few times and in the most recent tour, he must have shuffled his canes. Riddler hardly believes his excuses. 

Digger yells through the speaker phone. “For fuck’s sake, Eddy, I said sorry! I didn’t flamin’ misplace your cane on purpose!”

“It was not just a CANE– I needed that specific one for– Why the hell am I even bothering explaining anything to you?! You never do anything right!”

The stone cold silence does not simmer down his hot rage. He needed that grappling cane and he barely escaped the police with his standard one. He slams the front door shut and chucks the phone across the room with a frustrated cry. 

“It all went so wrong!!” He kicks his bowler hat into the wall. “Dammit!!”

Like a toddler, Riddler throws his shoes off, thrusts his cane onto the floor, and aggressively undresses himself so he can stand in a hot shower for an hour as he sulks.

Eventually, he turns the water towards cooler temperatures before he feels faint and waits another ten-ish minutes as the rage from his body washes away with the soap suds.

He sighs. He dries off. He dresses in his pajamas and shuffles into bed.

He closes his eyes.

You never do anything right!

With a pained gasp, Edward sits up, his hands flying to his lips. Panic sits in the back of his throat.

“No no no no no no no– I can’t call him. He won’t answer… I have to fix this now!”

Springing out of bed, Riddler scampers into his office and snatches a prototype of Mirror Master’s gun he has been working on. However, he has not had a chance to test it on people yet. Samuel’s gun is old fashioned and takes ages to traverse through for a first timer. Edward inputs the coordinates for the Rogue’s hideout and… he should be able to emerge from a reflection suitable to his size… It has worked with smaller objects.

“I suppose I’ll be the first human subject.” He hurries into the bathroom and fires the gun at the mirror. The reflection warbles. Carefully, he climbs onto the counter top and eases his hand through the portal… The temperature does not feel much different, if not a bit colder. “Now or never, Ed.”

He feels around until finding the lip of a counter. It must be a bathroom. He peeks his head through to find a, thankfully, empty bathroom. Feeling something sticky on his head, he peels a note off of his hair.

Len stop using up the soap - Lisa

“I’m at the right spot. Good. Fantastic, actually… I’m such a genius.” He pulls the rest of his body through as he slowly descends onto the floor. 

He hears conversation as he opens the door. He freezes momentarily and slowly turns his head to notice a bouncing light towards the den area of the hideout. Ah, the TV. Edward creeps towards it just to make sure it is not Digger watching a late night program. Instead, he sees Heatwave asleep on the couch. Back to his original path, then. He heads back down the hallway. Let’s see. Digger’s room should be the third door on the right.

Carefully peeking through the crack, he sees Harkness sitting in the middle of his bed, clutching his unicorn to his chest and mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Seeing him curled up in his closet a month ago echoes in his mind.

Shit.

Edward is the punished god Atlas holding not the weight of the world on his shoulder but immeasurable guilt. Guilt that he has not felt since he was a small boy. Truly, he thought he was past these feelings. Ego outweighed his insecurities and yet here he is, terrified.

Caring so vehemently… He steps inside and closes the door behind him.

Digger jumps like a cat, dropping his plush and phone. “Edward?!”
 
“Digger…” Struggling to keep eye contact, he pushes on, “What I said today was uncalled for and I am aware that a simple apology would never be enough. I ask of you, what can I do to convince you that I am truly and utterly guilty of what I have done.”

Harkness does not speak or move. The silence that falls is stuffy and thick with intense humidity.

“Out of anger, I struck at your insecurities. This damage is irreversible and I know… it will be difficult to trust me again. I want this relationship to work. I want this year to be about us.” No longer can he feel the wall that ego built up for years. It is missing in his defeat. Nygma crumbles to the floor and puts his head down, bowing. He feels anger grab his hair and try to urge him back onto his feet. He should not be bowing in apology to anyone. If Harkness cannot handle the truth– pain strikes him again. How many times was Edward told in his life that nothing he did was right? To project that onto Digger, no, he cannot become what he hates. “I’ll do anything.”

There is another lapse of silence. “Dance.”

Riddler lifts his head. “Dance...?”

“And sing. Make up a little song about how wrong and sorry you are and do a jig to it.”

“I… If that is what you wish.” Edward’s mind draws a blank. It is not that musical numbers are not his forte; he was a theater kid, but writing a song on the spot about how wrong… he shudders.

“Aww, strugglin’ are ya? Can’t get it right, aye?”

“I deserve that one.” He clears his throat. “It's been ages since I’ve sung... Hemhemhem…” 

Nygma also is not much for a one person tango. He does better with a routine to follow and a partner. There is no music to accompany him aside from his own voice. He mulls over his theater kid days back in high school and college. His role as Seymore was more stage directions than choreography. Billy Flynn was not much of a dancer either… and Jeremy is still mysteriously missing for taking his role of Jekyll away from him. He puts one foot in front of the other and continues to make a square. “I… made a mistake– I’m taking the blame. I’m in the wrong, here. It’s true. I was a fool. I let my emotions get the best of me and it inspired the worst out of me. I am … wrong. Riddler’s wrong! I’m so … wrong and for that I am sorry. I usually play fair then I bowled a spare. It was so unseemly. I’m sorry. Digger, I’m sorry. I won’t play those manipulative games to make you see it my way. I was wrong. Riddler was wrong. I am... so immensely wrong.” He does a final twirl and bows.

Harkness slow claps at his performance. “How’zit feel? Knock you down a peg or two?”

“Indeed…” His head burns. Why is he bothering if he has to sink so low and apolo… that thought comes to a screeching halt. A single tear runs down his cheek.

“Good. Get over here.”

He obeys once more. Boomerang grabs him and pulls him down into an embrace.

Edward is like a child clinging to a pet whose tail he accidentally stepped on. Nygma has never felt so riddled with anxiety or fear that Digger will reject him. “I’ll never do it again. I promise. I will hold myself accountable. I never, ever, want to hurt you.”

Has he really grown so attached to the Aussie? Obviously, he has. Rather than wait the whole night, he sought Harkness out. 

Is this love? He wonders.

“I didn’t leave yer canes alone…” Boomerang apologizes softly, “I coulda put ya in Arkham. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Thank you. I accept your apology.” Riddler does not cry at all often. Feeling how wet his eyes are, he presses his face into Boomer’s chest. “I’m so, so sorry. You’re wonderful, you truly are… every day I ache for you, so certainly, you are doing something right.”

“Must be… you didn't put up much of a fight about it.” Digger squeezes him. “You must really like me, aye? Achin’ for me.”

“I do, yes. I wouldn’t do this for anyone.”

Finally, a smile. “Got THE Riddler pinin’ after me… can’t say I’m not flattered.”

Edward relaxes a little, nuzzling his cheek. “Don’t let it get to your head, dear.”

“Mmhmmhm…” Digger nuzzles his ear. His voice lowers, whispering. “How about a root, aye? Should keep quiet though.”

Edward was not particularly planning on having sex but if Harkness wants to reward him, he supposes it is not so terrible a gift. “Are you telling me or yourself? You're the louder of the two of us.”

Boomerang blushes and squirms. “That ain’t true…! I’m quieter than you!”

“Go on then. Prove me wrong.” Nygma challenges as he reaches down and cups his cock trapped in his underwear.

A gasp is choked out of him, his head arching from the sudden surge of arousal. Harkness flips Riddler onto his back without prior warning. He pins his hands over his head and begins grinding on him. “Bloody bastard. You think yer so clever, eh?”

“I am clever.” His voice does not waver unlike Digger’s.

“You play real dirty. Would find it sexy if yew weren’t usin’ it against me.”

Aching to be kissed, Edward instead bends forward and bites down on his neck. He feels Digger’s hips shudder. The Aussie is much too excited, scrambling for their dicks. No lube, he is already stroking them with his big hand in a loose grip.

Their positions are eventually rearranged where Boomerang is spread out on his bed, whimpering as Nygma takes him into his mouth. Riddler found himself not caring if anyone barged in. Hearing his noises over time climb in volume and moan his name so deliciously prickles his skin. Digger cannot figure out what to do with his hands, either covering his face, holding Edward’s head, gripping the sheets or the pillow above him.

“Boomer, shut the hell up!!” Jesse suddenly yells from the other wall.

Riddler feels him tense up not in orgasm but in fear. He stops, carefully pulling off of his cock. Pathetically, Boomer stuffs his dick back into his underwear. He scooches to the edge of the bed and sits there with his head in his hands. Turning his cowardice back onto Edward.

“Digs…” Nygma tries, placing a hand on his arm. Digger jerks away. “Oh come now, Boomie, you’re really going to give me the cold shoulder?” Edward scoffs, crossing his arms. “Forgive me for providing such a pleasurable time.”

Harkness softens remarkably, hunching over. “Just… men ain’t supposed ta moan like that–”

“I’m sorry, should I not do that anymore either? Do you think me lesser?” Riddler inquires, not that he necessarily cares about societal norms to the extent of Digger.

“No!” He cries in a not so quiet whisper. “No, yer not you’re… I mean you… Yer kinda more in touch with uh, feminine shit.”

“Mmmhm.” Nygma grabs Pinkie from underneath the pillow. “And you hide yours.”

“It– it it it ain't feminine…!” Harkness ventures to conjecture. His hand is out, fingers curled. He wants to snatch his beloved plushie from him.

“A fetish then? You’re into ponyplay?”

“No!?” He reels back at that accusation.

“A comforting toy from childhood then. A white unicorn with a pink mane, anyone who believes in stereotypical gender norms would think this belongs to a little girl. Did you steal this from a defenseless child because you wanted it?”

“I was eight when I did that, Ed.”

He said that too confidently. A lie. “When you were working with Wiggins, then?”

Digger shrinks into his shoulders. There it is, on the money.

“Was it a gift?”

“No…”

“So it is stolen. What about it called to you?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“It’s hardly valuable, Digger. Do you like the soft texture? The glittery hair? It’s adorable appearance… All the above?”

He bashfully nods.

Edward hands the plush to him. He comforts him with a gentle air. “There is nothing wrong with that. As long as it makes you happy, why be ashamed?”

He hugs Pinkie. “Tell ya why. Get laughed at if me mates find out. Jesse’s probably plannin’ on tellin’ e'e'yone that my moanin’ woke him up.”

“He won’t. And if he tries, I’ll kill him.”

“... Said that too casually, Eds. You uh, you’re not already plannin’ that, are ya?”

Riddler smiles evilly and chuckles. He slides his hand over his thigh. “Why don’t we pick up where we left off? At my place, where you can be as loud as you want.”

“Okay…” Boomer replies breathlessly. “Uh… how didja get here anyway?”

Digger can feel rage radiate off of Edward like a boiling furnace about to explode all the while he leers at their takeout sitting on the countertop. Riddler is poised to strike, metaphorical tail whipping in wait. Harkness feels compelled to clear out, open the windows so the smoke fumes won’t fog up the place. It is stupid what he does next despite knowing what Nygma is capable of. Perhaps, he is relying too heavily on trust.

Coming up behind him, Boomerang wraps his arms around his waist and looks into the foam container. The order was not wrong. They have the correct meat, noodles and entrees– that’s a different thing, right? Is it the sauces? No, he sees sweet and teriyaki sauce. As he searches for an answer, Riddler actually relaxes in his arms. Digger waits until he eventually allows his head to lull and rest against his shoulder.

Risky, but he has successfully pacified Riddler.

"What’s the matter, love?" He asks sweetly, knowing that Nygma is quite fond of that pet name.

"They… put onions in my food when I asked for no onions." He replies in a quiet tone. Edward can’t be bashful. He has never seen him embarrassed before. It can’t be that. “They also forgot my shredded cucumber. I should have checked it while we were in the car.”

"Thass’no problem. I’ll get’em out for ya."

"No-- no no NO!” In a hurried fashion, he is out of his embrace and blocking the food with his body. “I'll do it. It-- I'll do it.” His face is a deep red. “God, this is so... scathing."

"Scathin'?"

"Embarrassing! It's awful! I shouldn't act that way in front of you about something so miniscule as unauthorized toppings; it's– uncouth!"

“Eddy…” Digger smiles. Honestly, this is adorable. Riddler really wants to present himself in such a specific way in front of others. They have that in common. Edward must have been bullied about it if this is his reaction– albeit over exaggerated. It’s… "You’re so cute. Eddy, you’ve seen me embarrass me self loads. It's all good, I ain’t gonna laugh at ya cuz yew don’t like onions. I don't like pickles. Burns me tongue."

“I am not cute.” He proclaims in a huff.

“What?”

“You declared me cute. This– how I am acting is not cute.”

Oh, that did come out of his mouth. “I ain’t sweepin’ this unda the rug, Ed.”

“You should. I wish to forget this is even happening.”

“It’s alright to relax around me, love. You don’t gotta play as Riddler all the time.”

“I am the Riddler!” He announces, stomping his foot like a child.

“Alright, shit." He says with his hands up. "So when are ya Edward?”

Riddler tilts his head, eyes in a squint. “I… don’t understand your question.”

“I mean, sure, I’m Captain Boomerang, that’s me name– my whole brand but… I’m Digger around you? What am I tryna say here…?” He scratches his head. “Lemme try this, uh… the world knows us by the name titles we give ourselves but they don’t call me Digger. They don’t call you Edward. But you call me Digger– call me Digs. So, I’m Digs here.”

Nygma blinks as he takes the information in before nodding. “I think I understand what you mean.”

“Yeah, so, when are ya Edward?”

For once, he looks uncertain. Edward is much more in tune with his villainy persona than Digger. Sure, they both have themes but Nygma goes into greater lengths to be seen as a threat– a genius. Harkness wanted money that came with fame and he was fine with slinging it with the Rogues. Being in the Suicide Squad has encourage him to value teamwork more than before he was shipped to Belle Reve. Riddler is used to being alone or acting as commander to his goons. To Edward, Riddler is a symbol that Gotham needs.

“May I think more of that question?” 

“Oh sure, yeah, it’s no rush. Food’s gettin’ cold, though.”

Frantic, Edward grabs his bowl and steps aside. “My apologies.”

“It’s all good… cutie.” 

Riddler scrunches up his face. “Cutie. Absolutely not, we are both crouching towards 40. You can’t call me that.”

He sucks through his teeth. “Don’t know about that one, cuuuuutie.”

“Enough.” He shoves his shoulder, which did nothing to break his posture. 

Digger places his bowl in the microwave and pounces on Riddler. He lifts his man up into the air by his waist and blows a raspberry into his neck. Edward screams in shock and abrupt laughter, kicking the air.

“Let me down, you fool!” He wriggles in his hold.

Harkness takes in another breath and blows it into the crook of his neck, igniting another shriek of a laugh from Nygma. Boomer sets him down with a squeeze. “Cutie.” Before releasing him to tend to the microwave that was now beeping.

Hearing Edward wheeze, Digger glances over to see him hiding his wide smile and occasional giggles in vain by directing his back towards him as he returns his task of surgically picking out onions from his dish.

Chapter Text

It all started with Boomer playing with her hair, which is something he does every day whenever Harley is close enough to him. Sometimes he pulls on her pigtails to get her attention like a school boy, which earns him a smack. Other times, he just paws at it, feels the locks between his fingers, or puts it in his mouth and pretends to chew it like a cow. Harley has had hyena drool in her hair before; boy cooties were the least of her concerns.

Harley had the goirls over and she refused to let the Aussie leave, proclaiming him as part of the goirls. Whatever that means.

From the couch, he watches Harley, Pamela, and Selina cheerfully gab over snacks on the coffee table, effectively ignoring his person. Which is fine by him, he would receive a glare or eyeroll of trying to participate in their high brow discussion of what Gotham needs, which naturally rolls into how men suck. Digger was not going to make himself a fool again by trying to defend himself. So, he keeps himself idle by taking Harley’s hair, down for once, into his hands, twisting it and watching it fall.

Mindlessly, he takes two bundles of her locks into his hands and loosely folds them around each other as he juggles the strands.

“Boomie, are you braiding my hair?” She finally asks him.

“... I dunno.”

“It’s a poor attempt.” Pamela acknowledges.

“You gotta have three strands goin’! You wrap the two around the middle one.”

Boomerang blanks. “What… like uh… staircase?”

“A staircase?” Selina inquires in blunt confusion.

“You know, those spinny ones.”

“He means a spiral.” Harley translates. “Red, gimme your hair for a sec. Boomie, watch, see? You divide it into three then ya cross the right one over the middle one, then ya do the same thing with the left but over this one.”

Harkness follows her instructions to his best capabilities but ends up gathering more hair than he started with.

Ivy grunts before offering her diagnoses. “You’re making it way more complicated than it needs to be.”

“It IS complicated, ya–” Any nickname for Ivy is thrown out the window with every threatening stare and out of fearful respect, Harkness decided against any pet names or insults entirely. He also figured that referring to her by her own name would lead to vines down his esophagus due to her hating how it sounds on his lips. So whatever was about to eject from his lips, quickly died there. He dips his head to avoid her gaze

“Ya, what?” She prods sharply.

“Ya… pretty lady.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you ever worn a braid, Boomie?” Harley tilts her head back far enough to look up at him.

“Don’t think so.”

Suddenly, Quinn beams and climbs onto the couch. “I gotta see what it looks like on you!”

“Uh– prolly don’t got enough hair for it.”

“Ya you do, don’t wiggle out of this.”

“But ain’t braids kinda girly–?”

“I think Crane has worn his hair in a braid when he still had long hair. Specifically in Arkham.” Selina purses her lips as the memory plays in her head. “It honestly looked really nice on him.”

“Oh yeaaaa! He actually looked pretty handsome.” Harley agrees.

Digger puffs out his chest. “Tch, I’ll look, like, ten times better with a braid than bloody Scarecrow. Gimme a coupl’a of ‘em, Harl.”

“Okay!”

Pamela leans in and whispers. “Men like him are so easy.”

“I know, it’s sad.”

“What’re yew two goin' on 'bout?” He asks nervously

“We were discussing if we should also do your nails.” Selina smirks as Boomer hides his said nails by balling his fists, tucking the thumbs underneath the index fingers and pressing his hands to his chest. She rolls her eyes. “Come on. You know, in ancient Egypt, pharaohs had painted nails to showcase their position of power and wealth. Red was a popular color. It would make your eyes pop.”

Harkness rolls his tongue along teeth in thought.

“Kurt Cobain also painted his nails.” Pamela offers with a shrug. “If you needed a more recent example.”

“Liked Kurt…” The three watch him slowly unfurl though hesitation stays on his face. “Comes off, right?”

“Yes, I won’t apply a top coat on.”

Digger swallows and gradually extends his hand. “One nail, alright? Just ta see how it looks.”

“Sure thing, Harkness.” Selina agrees before turning to Pamela “Why don’t we go with blue to match his ensemble?”

“Yeah, we have a shitton of blues. We might have one that’s the same shade?”

“Uh, okay…” Digger mumbles, his eyes wide. He sits there possibly regretting agreeing to this.

Pamela and Selina quickly go over their palette, holding up the bottles to his coat until finding the closest pigment. Taking his hand, Catwoman carefully applies the polish to his pinky finger, touching up her single stroke with small dabs before another long stroke to even out the texture.

“There. Don’t touch it. It’s wet.”

Digger brings his hand to his face, examining his curled fingers. He struggles to mask his true feelings, warping his facial features. “It’s not, y’know, the worst.”

“You like iiiiit.” Harley coos.

“Eh, it’s fine… Can do the other hand if ya want– just the pinky.”

Poison Ivy smirks. “It’s not a matter of me wanting it.”

“I’m just sayin’ that I’m open to offer–”

“You’re projecting so hard right now.” Selina snickers.

“I ain’t projectin’ shit!” He argues, his face steadily flushing.

“You’re in good company, Boomie! Go onnnnn.” Harley coaxes with a playful poke to his neck as she changes sides by stepping over him.

Boomerang squirms and scrunches up his face. He curls his knees as if bracing for impact. “... Please…?”

“Since you asked very nicely…” Taking him by the wrist, Ivy paints his nail with two strokes. “There.”

Harkness surveys his hands once more, holding them up. “Huh. Bit of a statement, innit?”

Selina snorts. “Sure, you can call it that.”

“It’s a statement for him.” Harley proposes cheerfully. “Do you feel bonita?”

“I don’t… hate it.”

“Well, I like it! Maybe you can put the Aussie flag on there. Kitty’s good at detail work.”

“Howzat gonna work?”

“I’d go in with white for the stars with this.” Catwoman holds up a much smaller brush. “Maybe paint the Union Jack on this nail.”

His lips form a firm line across his face. “S’not a bad idea…”

“Would you like me to try?”

He does not answer verbally but he does slink his hand over to her.

Harley pecks his cheek, leaving a lipstick stain there. “You’re such a good sport, Boomie.”

He perks up. “Uh, yeah! That's me! Good sport.”

Pamela laughs curtly just to get a reaction out of him, which was shooting a quick glare before realization struck him and he hurriedly looks anywhere else. He swallows. “Maybe you can, uh, put some red on another nail? Just to see how it looks, y’know?”

Trying to contain her grin, Selina glances at a near-to-bursting Harley and nods. “Of course.”

Soon enough, Digger’s ten nails are covered in polish and he allowed them to decorate the rest however they wanted. Just to see. An experiment. That’s all.

Harley is eating this up much more than her girlfriends, taking his new braids and gingerly whipping them like reigns.

“You look so goooood!” and an excited kiss on the lips was enough for Boomer to keep this look for the remainder of the day. Selina and Pamela may be giggling behind his back at how easy he is. It does not matter to him. A happy Harley equals a happy life… and great sex.

When Harkness returns to the Rogue hideout, he is still feeling the effects of the afterglow.

“You’re later than you said you’d be.” Captain Cold remarks when he enters, sitting on the couch like a disgruntled parent.

“Yeh, lost track of time, heheh.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. His calm but cheerful demeanor immediately puts the rest of the squad off- about possibly the lipstick marks on his face and neck too. “Wot?”

“Ewww, Boomer had seeeex.” Trickster teases, sticking his tongue out.

“Ya? When’s the last time you rooted, James?”

“It wasn’t with YOU, I know that much.”

“Your hair is braided.” Marco states in astonishment, leaning to and fro to see the whole picture. Boomer does a turn around for him out of courtesy. “It actually looks really nice on you, Boomer. I like the asymmetry.”

Digger preens, smiling big.

“Don’t feed him too many compliments.” Cold warns smugly. “He won’t be able to fit his head through the door.”

“Ah, stuff it, Snart, yer just jealous. Oi! Lisa!”

“Yeaaaah?” She replies cautiously as the Aussie approaches her.

“Peep this.” With a flourish, he whips out his hands and shows her his nails.

Instantly, her face lights up and she straightens in her seat. “Oh damn! Did Harley do these?”

“Nah, she did me hair, Selina and Ivy did these.”

“I can tell these are Selina’s.” She holds up his right hand. “She’s got such a steady hand for these details. I think… yeah, I gotta say, I really like the skull. She got that tiny little shine on the golden tooth. That’s so good!”

“Ain’t it?” Boomerang peers over his shoulder and gives the rest of the Rogues the most smug, most sly smirk, wobbling his head.

As Lisa gushes over the craftsmanship and inadvertently pumps Digger’s ego, Sam and James share glances, Trickster with a hand to his mouth. He pulls it away to look at his nails then glances back at Harkness, then to Sam, then points at the Australian. “Is that how we get women? Should we paint our nails?”

“I’m up for it.” Mick volunteers instantly. “Oh my god, look at Marco.”

They all glance his way to see him very concentrated on attempting to braid his own hair. He stops once he notices he is suddenly the main attraction and slaps his hands down onto his lap. “¿Qué? ¡Alejate de mi!”

“I could get yellow and blue… but Boomer’s got a theme with his. I need a theme.”

“Do you think I can glue a little mirror on one of my nails? I think that could be cool.”

Mick excitedly pipes up. “I’ve seen a video where someone grew their nails long enough to put piercings in. I wanna do that.”

“We’re getting sidetracked.” Len stands. “I’m bringing out the slideshow. All of you need to get out of your heads about nail polish and hair. I don’t want to hear anymore about it while we’re working.”

Lisa laughs. “Doing your nails is not gonna make women flock to you!”

“Look at what you’re doing!” Heatwave protests. “You’re still touching Boomer! You’re giving him attention! Harley probably fucked him because of his hair and nails!”

“You guys can’t be serious!” Glider continues laughing until her sides hurt.

As Snart retreats to grab the projector, even he examines his nails. “... Maybe an offwhite? An icy blue? That might look nice…”

Chapter Text

Edward has not exactly fallen ill, but he is being dramatic about the rather uncomfortably warm weather during a cold month. He holds an ice bag to his head and another on his lower belly. The abrupt temperature increase greatly affects his body in ways that he deems taboo. Harkness does not see bowel talk as such, however. It took two pillow throws to shut him up about the topic. Nygma eventually convinced him about doing some easy chores for him.

From the couch, he watches the Aussie gather full trash bags and carry them out of the house. He dusts the blinds and occasionally sneezes like a dad. As carefully as he could muster, wipes down surfaces, going around the objects instead of lifting them up.

Around this time of year, Edward changes out the nice aesthetic curtains to the black out ones. When he ordered Boomerang to do this, he saluted and marched to the closet with locked knees and elbows. Alright, fine, it was cute.

Through a half-lidded gaze, he views Digger bravely climbing the ladder and gingerly taking down the rode and screwing off the end. Harkness hums as he works. It is a tuneless song. Something about it, though, brings a radiant glow about him. His smile seems brighter.

As he stands on the top step again, his voice wavers in his throat. But he keeps humming. A grounding mechanism, perhaps, Riddler muses.

The tune carries on, even as he does an awful job at folding the curtains before he shuffles the ladder to the next window.

“Are you happy, dear?” Edward inquires, his head lulling to look at him.

“Hm?” Digger glances. “Whatcha mean, babe?”

Babe? He blushes. “Well... You were humming.”

“I was?”

“Yes, did you not realize?”

His lips pucker. “Huh, guess not. What was I hummin?”

“I don't think it was anything in particular?”

“Was it annoyin’ ya?”

Everything is annoying right now, he feels ill. Hearing the Aussie make such musically untalented noises… “It was nice, actually.”

Harkness perks up, whipping his head towards him. “Yeah?”

“I would have never expected it out of you.”

“Need me to sing next?”

Riddler cringes and groans, “I have heard your karaoke.”

“Awww, that don't count! I'm wasted by then! No one sings good drunk. Give this a burl, Ed.”

“A what now?” He cranes his neck to look at him.

“Don’t remember the whole thing but it’s what me and Harl’s been sendin’ videos off.” He clears his throat. “I loooove~”

He repeats the two words in what Nygma is assuming to be an angelic sequence. However, with his gravelly half-yelling voice combined with a thick accent, he sounds akin to one of Harley’s hyenas yowling.

“Please stop, I prefer your humming.”

“Awwwh!”

Chapter Text

Boomerang was having a nice sleep. A very nice sleep involving dreams of a pretty man with dark hair and an affinity for puzzles. Digger mumbles in his unconscious state, occasionally snickering as he cradles his plushie. At times he would mutter nonsensical sentences such as “pelicans are fuckin’ unicorns.” Whether the pelicans are unicorns or the pelicans are having a strange intercourse with the animal or how that pertains to Riddler is hard to say. Unfortunately for the Aussie, he is soon awoken to the sound of Cold, thrusting his door open. “Harkness! Get up and get ready, we’re leaving.”

Shaken, Digger makes a gutteral noise of confusion and slurps up some of the drool dripping from his lips. With a heavy head, he pushes himself into a sitting position and looks at Snart through a squint. “Eehhh?”

“We’re heading off.”

Blinking hard, Harkness rubs his face and groans, “What? Where goin’...?”

“We’re taking a ride and setting up camp at Lake Erie.”

“Wuh–why?”

“Look, it was Lisa’s idea and she thought it was a decent way to get out of the hideout for once.”

He rubs his face again, his eyes begging for slumber. “We bloody get out…”

“On heists, not just ‘for the boys’. Come on, Boomer, hurry up. Don’t fall back asleep!”

“Yeh yeh yeh yeh, I’m gettin’... gettin’ up.”

“I’m serious. Don’t make me get Trickster’s air horn.”

“I GOT it, mate.” He snaps, forcing himself out of bed.

“Don’t make me check on you.” Leonard closes the door and sighs.

“Well?” Lisa urges in a hushed voice, pulling her brother away from the door. “Does he suspect anything?”

“Nope, he was way too groggy. He probably won’t realize until we’re out of the base. You sure you don’t want to come? I know you've got a lot to say about Edward.”

“Boomer will listen more to Sam than me about this, Len. You’re not bringing everyone else, are you?”

“I’ll have to so Boomer won’t suspect anything.”

“Just don’t let James in on this.”

“Pfff, yeah, wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of what?” Trickster pops up seemingly out of nowhere and props his chin on Len’s shoulder, a cat-like smile on his face.

“James, I swear–” Lisa jumps but suppresses her fist while Cold glares at him.

“You don’t look packed and ready.” He observes. “What’s the problem?”

Jesse sucks on his teeth and pronounces that popping sound before speaking. “You know, I was thinking about that but I’m not exactly into camping. And I really don’t need to hear Digger’s spiel about how great he is in the wilderness.” He adds, itching his inner ear.

Len thanks God for that. “Lisa, keep an eye on James while we’re gone.”

“Sure thing.”

Jesse takes one look at her smug visage and swallows. “Actually, Cold–”

“No, no, you already said you didn’t want to join us.” He says, successful in keeping up his poker face. “I need to check on the van.”

“I’ll help! Please!” Jesse attempts but Lisa already has him by the wrist and is dragging him out of the hallway.

However, unfortunately for Snart’s scheme, it took until Boomerang was packing a bag to realize that what Snart ordered him to do conflicts with what he and Edward have planned for this week. Sure, he can argue with Cold, but that never goes in his favor. He lugs the bag through the hideout and into the garage where Marco, Sam, Mick, and Len are just finishing up with stuffing the gear in the trunk of his The Captain Boomerang Mobile.

The “the” is very important, it can’t be left out.

Digger does not feel appalled by their usage of his car. It is far roomier than Mick’s truck. He does feel somewhat relieved that there is no sign of James.

“Oi! Snart?” He calls out.

“What, Boomer?” He shouts back, slamming the back door.

“Uhhh, can’t go. Got plans.”

“Yeah? This trip is non negotiable, Boomer.” He states firmly, crossing his arms.

Watching the color drain from his face solidifies his negative feelings about Riddler. “Uh, yeah, righto, um, I’m gonna–”

“Whatever you have to tell your boyfriend, you can do it in the car. Get in, we’re late enough as is.”

Harkness glares after him before noticing Heatwave in his spot. “Ey! It’s my flamin’ car, Mick!” He thumps the door with his hand. “I get shotgun!”

“You shoulda been here sooner to call dibs.” Mick vaguely gestures with a smirk. “Get in the back.”

“Snaaart!” Boomer whines like a spoiled child.

“Get in the goddamn car, Boomer!” He yells before shutting the driver door.

Growling to himself, Digger finally obeys and hops into the backseat with Sam and Marco. He throws his bag over the seats and squishes himself into the door so no curious eyes peep over his shoulder. The engine hums to life and stutters briefly before accelerating out of the garage.

Eddy sorry mate sumfin popped up cant come over

“Sammy, how long are we gonna be gone?” Boomerang asks.

“Three to four days.” Len answers.

“Shit, mate, didn’t know you could throw your voice like that.” He replies not looking up from his phone. Wont be back til thrus. “He’s gonna be so pissed…” He mutters, biting his lip. Edward is not answering. He checks the time and figures that the man is probably still in the shower.

Rather than make conversation with his fellow Rogues or play a mobile game, Harkness stares at the clock on his phone, minutes ticking by slower than usual.

“Digs, you good?” Sam prods him in concern.

“I dunno… Prolly not. Eddy don’t appreciate his schedule bein’ interrupted.”

“Sounds like Riddler could learn some flexibility.” Snart mumbles loud enough for him to hear.

Frowning, Digger sits up a bit more. “What’s yer bloody problem?”

“I’m just saying that your little princess boyfriend can’t get what he wants all the time.”

“El mundo no le pertenece.” Marco adds in his two cents. “Eres estúpido.”

“Shut it, Marco! And he ain’t my boyfriend!”

Sam seems troubled by that, his brows pinched. “He’s not?”

With his anger quickly subsiding, Harkness stumbles over his words. “No? I mean, we haven’t really put any kinda label on it. Whazzit to you?”

“I’m just surprised. You two have been dating for more than a few months now.”

“Yeah, well, we’re uh, takin’ it slow. Nothin’ wrong with that… right?”

“Is it taking it slow if you’re having sex with him almost every day?” Mick asks smugly.

Boomer kicks his seat. “Bugger off, Mickey! It–’s not e’eryday.”

“Oral still counts as sex.” He states, matter-of-factly.

“How do ya know so much about gay shit, huh, Mick?” He inquires prodding his side with his fingers as Heatwave squirms and laughs.

“I dunno, Len, should we tell them?”

“Tell us wot?”

Mirror snickers, “Miiick, are you fucking our leader?”

“Shiiit, that’s favoritism, that.”

“He’s lying,” Len states monotonously. “And if he says anything like that again, I’m chucking him into the interstate.”

“Oooh, and we’re defensive.” Marco pipes in, grinning.

Snart turns up the radio to drown out their laughter.

“But back on topic,” Sam readdresses Digger, meeting him with concern. “How have you skipped first base with Edward?”

Boomerang squirms, pulling his phone closer to him as if that will be able to hide him. “It’s– uh, not that I don’t wanna, I just… time ain’t right yet?”

“The right time to kiss? But not for sex?”

“I don’t bloody know!” His sincerity in that response stuns even himself yet he attempts to save face. “Just happened like that.”

Mirror Master leans his head down more to try to catch his eyes. “Digger, are you nervous about it?”

“Pfff, nervous? Course not. Got nothing to be nervous about!” His phone bursts into John Legend’s All of Me, silencing everyone in the car as Boomer frantically answers before it could continue. “Eddyyyyy! Heyyyyyy, didn’t… think you’d call.”

“Where are you going?” Yup, no formalities. Riddler’s mad.

He gulps. “Uh, in the car, headin’ up to the lake. Cold’s orders.”

“And I presume that he cannot be persuaded?”

His stiff articulation can match Cold’s chilly exterior. “Nah, he’s actin’ like a real drongo right now.”

“Watch it.” Leonard warns.

“Who said I was talkin’ about cha?! Look, Ed, mate, I’m really sorry. I tried to get outta this, believe me. He just sprung it up this mornin’.”

“If he wants to talk, give me the phone.”

“Cold says if you want–”

“I heard him, Digs. That won’t be necessary. In fact, I can be flexible.”

“Wassat mean?”

“When are you going to arrive at your destination?”

Always answering questions with his own questions... “Uhhh, dunno, coupl’a hours? Might not get good service there.”

“Well, if you do, text me, but if you can’t, do not concern yourself about it.”

“Oh, alright, Ed? See ya later.”

“Bye.” He says unceremoniously and hangs up.

Digger feels an unyielding compulsion to throw his phone at Len. “You got me in bloody trouble, ya yabbo. Hope yer happy. You know we haven’t seen each other in like two weeks, right?”

“Yeah? And he’ll live.”

Samuel was not really expecting anything when they got to the campsite. The rest of the drive was mostly smooth sailing. They did bring food; this plan was not spontaneous. Len, Lisa, and himself have been crafting this intervention for a while now (Marco and Mick opted to come along to convince Digger that nothing was suspicious). As Sam lugs the boat to the water, he spots ripples next to the pier. It is not a fish exhaling, it is a collection of bubbles in a circular shape. Scudder pauses but the phenomenon disappears as quick as it emerged. Although much more hesitant, he continues to strap a rope from the boat to the post.

No, he would never have expected The Riddler to suddenly crawl out of the surface of the water completely dry.

“Greetings, Samuel.” Edward grunts as he pulls himself onto the pier. He fixes his shirt and pants, making sure that there are no water spots. “Where’s Captain Cold? What? Close your mouth, Samuel, we are not cod fish.”

His jaws shut with a click of his teeth. He slowly points behind him. “Over– over by the van. Hhhhow did you…?”

Nygma cuts him, tapping his cane against his chest. “And where is my Digger?”

“He’s uh– that way, in the portapotty. But, but Edward–?"

“Ah, good.” He withdraws and adjusts his gloves. The air of murderous intent fades. “I prefer if he did not see what is about to occur. Excuse me.” He brushes by him, thumping his cane on the ground as he makes his way towards the van. His gait is swift and there is a pep in his step as if he is somewhat skipping over the uneven terrain. He loosely swings his cane and catches it when Leonard and Marco finally turn and notice him.

Nygma grins. “Good afternoon, Leonard Snart. Marco Mardon. If you could pardon me, I would like to speak to your leader–”

“How in the hell are you…” Fully out of his stun, Snart edges his way towards the van. “Marco!”

Before Wizard could fully brandish his wand, Edward smacks his wrist with his cane. The air cracks harshly with his pained cry. Marco crumbles onto the ground, gripping his wrist. Mick drops the firewood and quickly runs to his aid.

Nygma withdraws his sword from his cane and thrusts it towards Cold. “There is no need to sic your boys on me. I simply want to talk. Can we do that, Snart? Or are you too uncivilized?”

“Jesus, Riddler, fine. We can talk.”

“No wool over my eyes?”

“None. My gun is in the car. Mirror doesn’t have his and I didn’t let Heatwave bring his flamethrower. And I know Boomerang would hesitate to stop you.”

“He would, yes.” After another pause and a glance behind at Rory, Riddler lowers his blade.

“Marco,” Cold calls out. “Are you good?”

“I’m not feeling any broken bones.” Mick confirms.

“Oh, walk it off.” Edward dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Eyes on me– Good boy. Now, what do you take me for, mmm? I was told you were made aware of our plans and now all the sudden you’re forcing him on this, what? Camping trip? I would have accepted the change if you said it was an impromptu heist over some popup at a museum. But no, a camping trip?! Do you think I’m stupid?” He half-yells-half laughs. Irritation, ego, betrayal, it would be easier to list what animosities are not present in his eyes as he bares his fangs.

“I told you it should have been a heist.” Heatwave adds fuel to the fire much to Cold’s dismay.

“Ah, ha!” He throws his finger in the air, flexing it accusingly towards him. “You’re trying to get him away from me! I had a feeling this would come up sooner or later. Go on, Snart,” He grows closer like a predator inching on an unsuspecting faun. “Discuss the issues you have with me, I’m all ears.”

“Put. The sword. Away.”

Even as he obeys, his intense glare is just as sharp if not more so than his steel. He thrusts the butt of his cane into the dirt. “Speak.”

“I don’t trust you. You’re feeding ideas into Boomerang’s head. He’s more annoying than usual because you two are dating.”

“Hm. Maybe, and this is a hunch,” He states with a condescending flair, “Digs is realizing that you are not exactly his friends. Oh no.”

“There it is!” Snart claps his hands. “I knew it– Concrete proof. You’re trying to separate the Rogues.”

“I am attempting to convince him that he is better off without you ingrates. You did not even celebrate Christmas together.”

The Rogues stare, stupefied, including Leonard.

“What? You’re mad about… that? We do that every year, he’s fine with it–” He trails off in thought.

“HA!” Edward pokes Snart in the stomach with the end of his cane. “As I suspected, you believe his lies. If you were true friends, you would have noticed his disappointment and grief. Are you seriously unaware of the hurt you cause him every year?”

“He does ask me…” Len stops himself before continuing.

Marco remarks bitterly, “He probably just wants presents. Can I get an ice bag or something? Me duele la muñeca…”

“Mick, go use my gun.”

“Is that so wrong of him to want that?” Riddler continues without pause. “I’m sure each one of us has not had the best childhood. We were possibly deprived of feeling special on our birthday or the joy of Christmas. Can’t you give him that? Give each other that instead of pretending that now that you’re older it doesn’t matter?”

Everyone falls silent.

“Eddy?!” Finally, the Australian arrives on the scene.

Seeing Nygma’s face completely light up upon hearing his name did not seem scripted. Neither did him whirling around and bolting towards Harkness, even dropping his cane to wrap his arms around him in a firm embrace.

“Oh shit–!” Digger stumbles and holds him by his hips as if to try and pull him off. “Crikey, you really missed me, aye?”

The rest of the Rogues wait for Edward to glance over his shoulder and give them a look of arrogance - something to convince them that Riddler has more nefarious intentions with their fellow mate. But he doesn’t. He does not even relent in his grasp. Digger feels his friends’ stares to be judgemental. The girlfriend– not girlfriend – not boyfriend either, shit, what is Edward(?!) coming in and ruining their time with the Boys. Still, Nygma is not releasing him and to be frank, Harkness did not want him to let go yet. He adores the way his hands ball into fists, clutching his coat. Digger can hear soft noises that are trapped in his throat as he worms into him. Slowly, Boomer returns the embrace and nuzzles his face into his neck, inhaling his rich cologne. Pineneedles and mint.

This would be perfect, a very perfect place to kiss. Wrapped up in emotion and feeling the need to prove to himself that he isn’t a wuss. He can kiss Edward in front of his mates… maybe? Maybe some other time…

“Missed ya heaps, love.” He says instead.

Riddler briefly melts into him, pressing their foreheads together before pulling away. “I have good news, however. Your leader has decided to allow me to camp alongside you lot, isn’t that right, Snart?” Edward gives him a diabolical glare.

His lips twitch with displeasure, his jaw clenched. “... Yep.”

Boomer recoils, blinking, “Wot?! You called him a bloody princess on our way here, Cold.”

“OH?!” Edward exclaims, a hand on his chest. That smile cannot be less than pleasantly surprised, borderlining crazed. “You think me as a spoiled princess?” He stops and puckers his lips in thought. “I suppose I do become quite irritable when I don’t get my way, isn’t that right, dear?”

“Pffeh, yea–” Harkness pauses the instant he sees his pointed frown. “Guh–Nooooo, nevahhh…”

Riddler snorts and giggles before caressing his face. “I’m teasing you, darling… Now which one is your tent?”

“Yer sleepin’ with me?”

“Why, I thought that was obvious.” Hearing Snart inhale, he whips around. “And before you make a comment, we will not be engaging in any sexual acts.”

“Wh– none?” Boomerang queries, gazing upon him with pleading eyes. “Maybe one blowy?”

“None.” Edward doubles down.

“Oh nooo, how will Digger survive?” Mick mocks him playfully.

“Oi!! I can survive just bloody fine!”

“I’m giving him a singular day.” Marco bets with a smirk, holding his makeshift ice bag to his hand.

“That’s generous! I’m going for less than twelve hours before he starts begging.”

“Would you bastards shut up?! I ain’t a slut!”

Heatwave bursts out laughing, doubling over while Marco looks away to hide his face but his shoulders shake. Cold shakes his head, removing himself from the situation by making his way back to the unfinished tents.

Sam out of all of them is still distraught. “Seriously, how in the world did you come out of the water like that? That effect was so similar to how I go through mirrors.”

“I suppose you should put on your thinking cap then.”

Balking, Scudder starts muttering. “... He couldn’t have used mine. I saw it when I left…”

Before Edward could tease him further, he is pulled away by Digger back towards the dock for a sense of privacy.

“Hey, Eds?”

Nygma steps into his personal space. “Yes?”

“Hi.” He allows himself this distraction and affectionately rubs his forehead into him pulling away. “I’m really happy that yer ‘ere, like seriously, but how the hell did ya convince Cold?”

“Darling, you know I’m a master of persuasion.”

“I mean, sure, but he… I dunno. I don’t think he likes you.”

“Digs…” When Edward cups his face, Digger fights with his legs to remain standing. “Does his opinion of me matter that much to you?”

Harkness shrugs. “Not really. He don’t know you like I do.”

“Precisely…” He glances down then back to his eyes.

Shit. Shit, another opportunity to solidify what they have with a kiss. Digger stays in place, lips stiff in place, watching as Edward slowly falters in disappointment. His hands fall away from his cheeks and stay at his sides. Internally, Harkness wants to dunk his head in the water and attempt to drown himself. Something so simple as a kiss should not make him panic so much.

And out of panic, he ruffles Nygma’s hair. “Lemme go getcha cane.” He prays that no one else perceives him as he marches to where they once stood. “God, how stupid are ya, Digger?” He mumbles to himself in frustration. “He was askin’ for it all… cute and… augh!” He swipes up the cane and wipes away any dirt with his hands. “And you screwed it up like you always do. What bloody was that…?!”

While Digger is too distracted with berating himself, Riddler notices Sam approaching him. Edward crosses his arms and tilts his head before taking his newfound irritation on the unsuspecting Rogue. “And what do you want?”

He holds his hands up in defense, nonverbally pleading for Nygma to take it easy. “I, uh, just wanted to ask why you decided to camp with us when you could have taken Digger back to Gotham.”

“That is an idea I have mulled over, yes. However, two can play the game your captain was attempting to pull on me and I don't appreciate it. I don't mind proving myself and I shall do it with grace if it means getting you cretins off my back.

Scudder draws back. “Cretins? No, no I think you have the wrong idea–”

“Me? The Riddler? Made some mistake? Forgive me if I find that unbelievable.”

“Listen, we want what’s best for Boomer–”

“As do I. And I know better than you.” Like a child he rears his head and does a complete one eighty, calling out sweetly. “Boomie, dear! I’m going to get my things, I’ll be right back!”

“Wuh– okay!” He yells back, snapping out of his own self deprecating talk.

“Excuse me.” He hisses, sauntering further down the dock. Revealing a gun molded similarly to Mirror Master’s, he points it at the calm surface and bubbles once more form a rim. With a wave goodbye, Edward backflips through the portal.

“What a weirdo… I can’t believe he made a gun like mine…” Uncomfortable with that thought, Sam turns towards Boomerang who is looking on, completely smitten at where Riddler once was. It is almost cute if the guy he was into wasn’t a psychopath. “Digger?”

He blinks and glowers. “What?”

“Has he ever been camping before?”

His posture relaxes, “Not that I know of.”

“I hope he hates it and leaves.” Cold butts in, bitterly. “Sam! Come help me with this!”

Setting up camp consumed the rest of the day which soon bled into the late evening. After eating their cooked supper, Edward follows Digger to their tent. Of course, Nygma made it much cozier by adding a blowup mattress and blankets instead of a sleeping bag. In the upper corners lie their individual bags full of their clothes and other personal effects. While Harkness just strips down to his boxers, Edward takes his time dressing. He removes each article of clothing with practiced hands and folds each one.

“Need help with that, love?” A bit heavy handed on the love, guided by a hand snaking over his backside.

Riddler takes it and places it on the mattress instead. “One thing will lead to another, dear. And we promised Cold.”

“You promised him–” He wisely shuts up when Nygma casts a short lived glare towards him. “But seriously, I gotta ask ya somethin’, Eddy.”

“Yes?”

“How come you didn’t just take me with you?”

“And not take the opportunity to annoy Snart? You forget how petty I can be, dear. He KNEW of our plans and yet he dismissed them. This is my payback.”

“Sure, I'm just… I dunno.”

His tone causes Riddler to pause from aggressively brushing the dirt off of the blow up mattress. “What’s wrong, Digs?”

Digger scratches his neck. “No offense, Ed, but I don't want you to take this too far, yeah? Cold and I may be friends but he’s also my boss and if you and him ain’t I dunno… if you two headbutt then he might not…”

Nygma briefly leers towards the zip-up door and he lowers his voice. “Cold is not your parent, Digger. He has no power over you.”

“My pay can get docked.”

“Seriously?!” He hisses, throwing his hands. “He’ll take a spat between me and him on you? He does seem the petty type…”

“Eddy, darl.” His heart is set aflame with his hand on his shoulder, close to his neck. “No killin’ him, alright?”

“Why not?” Riddler rebuttals childishly.

“Cuz he’s my friend! I don't wanna be the reason why the Rogues broke up.”

Edward frowns upon realizing… this is the only friend group Harkness has. Aside from Harley and himself, Digger does not have a massive spread of individuals to engage with. He is hardly tolerated by most people in Gotham let alone Central City. Nygma remembers how he was one of those people and yet one thing led to another. In truth, Boomerang fascinates him, but not like a riddle… he may be one of the few people Riddler sees as someone of flesh and bone like himself, a person. Yet even though he is far from perfect, Edward would not have it any other way. He cannot lose him this way.

“Alright.” He relents. “I will orchestrate a civil conversation with Snart tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“No traps? No death machines that he has to get out of by solvin’ riddles?”

Nygma sighs. “None whatsoever. I swear it.” He shows his hands. “You can hold me to it.”

Harkness affectionately rubs his nose into his cheek, which Edward is quick to return before he is pulled down on top of him. Boomer then grabs the blankets and drags them over their bodies. “Ta, Eddy. ‘Preciate it.”

“Of course…” There is a riddle on the tip of his tongue but he does not utter it. Digger has not gotten better at solving them. Edward can not bear giving him the answer, because that would be a confession neither of them are ready to commit to at this hour.

So, instead they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

“Thank you so much for coming by, again. I know it was very short notice.” Mallory says again, her foot out the door as she puts on her coat.

Edward smiles politely. “It’s no trouble at all, really. I’ll take any chance to see Quinn sooner.”

“God–” She laughs as she struggles with her zipper. “You’re all that ever comes out of her mouth! I think it’s making poor Evelyn jealous.”

Well, the divorce was her fault. Nashton just chuckles with her, keeping his jaw clenched. Anything that spills out now would be incriminating. They wave their goodbyes and Edward watches a moment longer while his ex wife and her girlfriend back out of the driveway. His smile falls heavily into a frown when he closes the door. A rumble announces itself outside. He peers through the upper windows above the door to see dark but not so threatening clouds roam in.

He puffs out a mirthless sigh. “It seems the weather is mimicking my mood. How gothic.”

He breaks from the small foyer and into the big den area where his four year old daughter Quinn and Mal’s five year old, Owen, are sitting on the floor and pushing cars along the play mat. The two seem too preoccupied with complaining about traffic to notice that their babysitter is in the room. Edward decides to leave them be for now.

Looking around, he turns his attention to the collection of frames that decorate the wall holding up the staircase and the small table pushed up against it. Mallory looks to be in the middle of removing old pictures from the frames. On the wall, there are photographs of family members that are monocolored and show immense age. A frame that has flowers carved into the wood showcases a man, a more recent picture, dressed as a cop, which makes his eyes twitch. Not letting his anger fester, he gazes down at the table where many photos are of who he assumes is Mal’s ex husband. He picks one up that depicts them as teenagers.

Whoever this man is, he was the textbook definition of a teenage dirtbag. Tongue out, dark eyebrows, gang signs, and tattoos all over his chest. Mallory looks completely different back then than she does now. Edward looks at another frame and sees her ex-husband holding baby Owen, squishing the newborn's face into his cheek.

In this one, he has a beard that stops at his chin and a cute grin. There are tears in his eyes. His baby came out with bright red hair just like his dad.

This is an adorable photo.

His curiosity overwhelms him and he picks up the discarded photos that lay on the edge of the table. Some have scratched out the husband’s face, others have ripped him out all together.

Edward wonders, though, was this Mallory's doing or Evelyn’s?

“Daddy!”

Nashton sets the loose pictures down.

“Weee woo weee woo! This is the police! Pull over!” Owen calls out, swinging his little car around.

“We are already pulled over, officer.” Edward says bluntly just to make Quinn giggle.

“Don’t be smart with me!” He occasionally slips into an Aussie accent as he yells. “Open your truck!”

“Do you have a warrant or probable cause, Mr. Police Officer?”

“What’s a warrant?” Quinn asks curiously.

“It’s a piece of paper that the officer needs to get from a judge that gives the officer permission to do a search. Somewhat like a field trip slip at school that parents need to sign.”

The two kids collectively go “ohhhhh!”

“Where judge?”

“Where is the judge, Owen.” Nashton corrects casually. “He’s at the courthouse. It’s usually a big, wide building.”

“I don't see one on here.” Quinn says, studying the playmat.

“Then I suppose you can’t look in my trunk, officer.”

“Shit.”

Edward reels back in shock. “Owen! Who taught you that word?”

“My dad says it sometimes when he thinks I’m not there.”

Quinn exclaims, “My dad says–!”

“Quinn, baby, you shouldn’t repeat certain words that I say.”

“Oh ok.”

“And you shouldn’t say that either, Owen.”

“Okee.” Owen agrees without hesitation.

“Now that that’s settled. Am I free to go, officer?”

The doorbell rings and Edward excuses himself from play, encouraging them to continue without him.

He answers the door, expecting a delivery man but instead sees a rather… rugged looking man similar to the one in the photos, dressed in heavy clothes. Nashton greets him hesitantly, “Hello…?”

“Hi…” The stranger returns, somewhat breathless. His green eyes look him over with curiosity. He attempts to compose himself by clearing his throat. “Er– you ain’t Mal or Evelyn.”

And you’re Australian… like Owen.

“No, I’m not. I’m Evelyn’s ex-husband.”

“Oh, shit. I’m, uh, Mal’s. I was comin’ by to babysit but…” His pocket suddenly vibrates. Now that Edward is looking at him, he does look like the man in the picture frames. Except now, he is hairier and fatter in the belly. Not that Nashton finds that objectionable. And he did utter that profanity in the same manner Owen did. Mal’s ex brings his phone out and frowns at the message. “Guess it just came through…” He starts walking backwards.

“That the position’s been filled?”

“Yeup… Look, mate, I’ll just head out–” Already, he is turning around to head down the stairs. He is acting like he is not allowed inside, as if he is some misbehaved dog.

“Nonsense.” Edward exclaims, which encourages the Aussie to stop and look. “What’s your name?”

“Digger Harkness.”

Same surname as Mallary. “I’m Edward Nashton. Why don’t you come in, Digger?”

He eyes him over again. “You sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure Owen would want to see his dad.”

For a moment, there is a hopeless glean in his eye that he looks down to hide, trudging up the steps. He enters the household, refusing to glance Edward’s way.

“You’re a bit late.”

“Yeah, I, uh… I had to walk here.” He explains as he removes his excess clothes. It isn’t even that cold out there…

“Do you live nearby?”

“Eh…” Digger still won’t look at him. “I’m close enough. Was just a twenty minute walk.”

“You walked a whole mile to get here?! Why didn’t you call an uber?”

“Uh… Dunno!” He pulls his boots off and shoves them to the side with his feet. “Just wanted to walk, I guess…”

Edward blushes for not minding his own privilege. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Nah, it’s all good, mate. No harm done.” Nashton does not feel relieved when he finally smiles at him. It is a sort of courtesy smile you use for strangers.

Suddenly, he remembers the photographs and wonders if he should put them in the drawer. But seeing Harkness hurry by the wall of frames without a glance, he feels calmer but also curious. He follows him and settles on the couch to watch them and Quinn.

“Owen, heya mate. How ya been?” He asks sweetly, getting down on his level.

The little boy looks hesitant, shrinking into shyness. He doesn’t quite look at him, similar to what Digger just did to Edward. “Good.”

“Yea? You been doin’ good in school?”

“Yah…” He runs the car over his leg just to feel the wheels on his skin.

“Eh, whatcha learnin’?” Harkness pokes again, his lips and eyes constantly move from nerves.

Owen holds his hands up, each finger extended. “Ten.”

“Ten? Oh, you learnin’ to count? Yea? How many cars you got there?”

“Ten.” He says, distractedly. Edward can’t help but snicker.

Digger glances over, vainly suppressing his smile. “Ah, you wanna make sure? I see one… and uh there’s–”

“Quinn.” Nashton interjects.

“Quinn’s got another one. What’s that make?”

Owen doesn’t respond. He starts fingering the wheels of his car.

“Don’t feel like countin’?”

“Daddy. Dad, you…” He finally looks at him. “You forgot my birthday.”

“Mate, no, I didn’t forget! It– Money’s a bit hard for your dad right now. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anythin’.”

Not that it was any of his business, but Edward passively wonders why Mallary didn’t help with that. Being a police officer, she should make enough to lend some cash to him… unless… No, he shouldn’t assume.

“But you– have enough money for al-co-hol.” He says the word awkwardly.

Oh. Yikes.

There it is.

Digger grimaces and he fidgets, clearly what his son is saying holds some water. “Owen, yer dad doesn’t have his priorities in order sometimes. But I’m gettin’ better.”

“Is that why you and mom don’t live together anymore? Because you didn’t pri-or-ize her?”

“Okay!” Edward announces, clapping his hands. “Why don’t we all head outside?”

He wants to grace Digger with some peace, shooing the children out the back door, but he cannot help sneaking a glance. Harkness is still kneeling there, devastation plain on his face. His eyes are unfocused and he isn’t breathing.

A horrible intrusive thought enters his head that this man is going to leave and get in a terrible accident. Edward hops over to him and squats down beside him, placing a hand on his back. “Hey, come back to me.”

Digger lets out a noise like he just came up from drowning. “I’m– I’m fine!” He frantically rubs his nose and sniffs.

“Do you…” Nashton did not want to put the idea of drinking in his head. “Why don’t you get some fresh air? Watch the kids. Want some water? Soda?”

“You’d do that…?”

Edward offers him a smile and nods.

“... Yeah, soda’s good. Ta.”

He makes sure that Digger heads out the door without hurting himself with the way he is stumbling. From the window, he watches him sit down on the patio furniture and rub his face.

“I struggle with prioritizing as well.” Edward finally says after a few moments of quiet that is broken up by their children screeching in glee as they run around the little wooden playground. Harkness gawks at him, his lips puckered. “I kept accepting overtime. Evelyn thought I was cheating on her. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her what was going on at the company. Even when articles came out about the bankruptcy, she still couldn’t accept my answer. Now that I see her with Mallory, I suppose she just wanted an excuse to get rid of me.”

“Holy shit…” Digger exhales after his sip. “She hated you.”

“I think she hated herself more than she did with me. She’s much happier with Mallory. She treats me better now than she did when we were married.”

“Did she ever apologize?”

“Not in the way I found acceptable.” He takes another drink to distract himself. “I just told her that we should just move on from this. Raise our daughter and surround her with the love she needs.”

“Huh. That’s mature.”

“Oh, believe me, I wanted to yell at her. She was seeing Mallory behind my back and yet she accused me of cheating. I act civil, but whenever I’m around her all I can see is red.”

The Aussie reaches over and pat his shoulder. “I don’t blame ya, mate. But I can tell you’re a good guy, doin’ all this for ya kid.”

Edward cannot help but giggle at that. It is not a casual laugh but one that hides something incredibly morbid.

“What’s so funny?” Digger hesitates to ask.

“I don’t think it would interest you.”

“Try me.”

“Humanity is fascinating to me.” He swirls the glass bottle around with his thumb, index, and middle finger. “It all depends on the person. I could be completely out of their lives, move across the country and start over. But I’m still here, trying to find another job. Staying in this state, in this awful city, so my daughter has a secondary place to stay. Just so she can spend time with me.”

“Think you’re describin’ love there, Ed.” He admits bluntly, taking another swig. He burps into his scarf. “I love Owen. But I get why the kid doesn’t want anything to do with me. I’m not a good influence. No matter how often I promise, I can’t stay sober long.”

“... I shouldn’t pry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I can get two weeks in before I’m shakin’ like a wet dog and drivin’ to any pub that doesn’t care if I’m there. I’m not allowed in a lot of places, cuz they’ve had to call Mal to get me sorry arse outta there.” Digger quiets down, rinsing his hands and moving the soda bottle with them. “I love her to bits… but she’s better off without me.”

“If you love someone, let them go.”

“Tch, yeah… Didn’t want to though. Almost didn’t get shared-custody over Owen cuz of it… not that he should stay with me since…” Edward can tell he is hiding something but that isn’t his business… as much as he wants it to be. Digger changes topics. “I can never make it up to him either. Don’t think he really gets what I’m goin’ through.”

“He’s five. He may understand more when he gets older. When the world around him is less new.”

“How did your kid take the news?”

“Quinn… always pesters me about when we’re going to live together again. She likes Mallary but I’ve always been her favorite parent.”

“Bet that stings for Evie.”

“Evie?” He says this with a punch of venom.

Digger blanches. “Evelyn. Sorry.”

“Daadaddyyy–!” Quinn rushes over to them as fast as her little legs can carry her, holding out her hand. “The house bit me.”

“The house bit you!” Edward gasps in mock surprise. “Let me see.” He takes her small hand and sees a large splinter in between her fingers. “Ah! The house left one of its teeth in you. How very rude!” Quinn’s giggling eases the hurt in his heart. “Be a brave girl and hold your breath.”

She does, puffing her cheeks out. Nashton carefully pulls the splinter out and checks for blood before smiling. “All gone! No more pain.”

“Can I hit the bad house? It bit me.”

“No, darling, we don’t hit things.”

“It bit me.” She repeats.

“I know! It was terrible! But the house didn’t mean to bite you. You got caught on one of its loose teeth, pulling it out of his head. Like at the dentist.”

“Ohhh… I don’t like the dentist.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean that the dentist is a bad man, right? He’s trying to help you.” He then says as an aside to Digger. “She won’t brush her teeth.”

Harkness snickers and smiles. “I don’t like the dentist neither, Quinn.”

“It’s loud.” Quinn agrees.

“It is real loud, innit?”

Suddenly, the four year old gasps. “You talk like my dogs!”

He blinks. “Her dogs…?”

“Bluey. He’s from the same country, Quinn.”

“Where’s your ears?”

“Australians are not dog people, honey–”

“Oh, let her believe it, Ed, she’s just a baby.” Digger slips off the wicker couch and kneels. “You wanna play with the doggy?”

She gasps again and squeals with delight. “Yes yes yes!”

Something about watching a grown man getting on his hands and knees, in the dirt and grass… wagging his imaginary tail… fetching a stick WITH his mouth… being at the whim of his little girl is doing something to his decaying heart. He is so gentle with her, minding his strength during a game of tug.

Owen, his own kid, watches from the swings, his momentum slowing until he is simply sitting there on the plastic seat.

He looks like he wants to join but is unsure of how.

Since they are distracted, Edward walks along the fence over to the swing set and leans down to speak to Owen. “Is there something wrong, Owen? You look upset.”

“Mama doesn’t play with me. Dad used to.”

“I’m sure if you asked Quinn, she would let you play with them.”

Owen shakes his head.

“Quinn is a very sweet person, Owen.”

“Dad is gonna leave soon.”

Confused, Edward checks his watch and sees that it’s almost six-thirty. The kids should get ready for bed soon.

“He tucks me in and then leaves and come back and then he smells bad.”

He should not be hearing this.

“I don’t like his face when he come back. Monsters got him and he walk around like he’s going to fall. It happens when he tucks me in.”

My god.

It isn’t that Owen doesn’t want anything to do with his father. He thinks he is the sole cause of Digger’s vices. He has paired going to bed with his dad drinking.

His chest hurts. “Owen... Dear, don’t worry about your dad tonight. I’ll protect him from the monsters.”

“Really?”

Edward gives him a smile and a nod. “I promise. But it’s time for you and Quinn to head off to bed.”

“Okee…” He hops off from his swing.

“Quinn, darling, it’s bedtime!”

“Noooo!”

“Yessss. Your pup needs to sleep too.” He tries not to laugh at Digger really leaning into his dog persona by truly panting with exhaustion.

“Roorooo…” Harkness plops down on the grass.

Quinn coos and waddles over to him, bending down and petting his hair. “You sleep, doggy.”

“Take five, Digger.” Edward tells him with a smirk as he guides the kids to the house.

He groans in reply, rolling onto his back.

“Come on, you little gremlin.” Edward picks Quinn up off the floor again and she squeals with delight, kicking her feet. He drops her onto the bed and tucks her in. “You have school in the morning. It’s your job now to sleep well.”

“Are you going to pick me up from school tomorrow?”

“I can if you’d like.”

“Can we go get ice cream?”

He moves some of the loose hair out of her eyes. “We’ll see. Goodnight, darling.”

“I love youuuu.”

His heart bleeds a beautiful warmth Edward wants to keep forever. “I love you, baby.” He kisses the top of her head.

After turning on the nightlight, he flicks off the overhead and gently closes the door behind him. Remembering his promise to Owen, he peers into the door across from him and sees Digger sitting on his son’s bed.

“There’s no monsters, mate. Don’t worry. And if there are, daddy’s gonna handle ‘em.”

Owen does not look pleased with that answer but when he sees Edward at the door, he perks up. “He can help!”

Harkness glances over, acknowledging him with a half smile, before returning his attention to his son. “Yeah, mate, Eddy can help too. We’ll keep you kids safe.”

Nashton watches Digger tuck him in. To his surprise, he sits on the floor and pets Owen’s head as he hums. It’s an aimless tune. Edward cannot help feeling entranced by the comforting melody. He never received this kind of treatment when he was a child. He was not told goodnight. No one made sure he was actually asleep. If there was nothing to read, Edward stared out his window at the stars he could just barely see and his imagination would take flight. Thinking about the characters across his books interacting with each other, picturing one of them opening his window and inviting him to run away with them… The adventures they could go on...

Digger leans in, whispering. “I promise I’ll always love you.” before giving him a kiss on his temple and standing up with a small grunt.

Edward backs away from the door, inhaling sharply to wave away the tingling in his nostrils that warned him that tears were on the way.

Harkness addresses him as he closes the door. “Sorry ‘bout that. He has trouble sleepin’ at night. I think he gets lonely.”

“That’s alright. I thought that was incredibly sweet.”

Digger waves his compliment away with a shrug and scoff. “Wanna head down?”

A rhetorical question that Edward follows through by tailing him down the steps. Harkness grabs the remote and turns on the TV as he drops onto the couch. He turns it down significantly and flips through the channels. Nashton takes the spot beside him, leaving some room between them enough for a decorative pillow.

“Thank you for playing with her, Digger. I’m not fantastic at physical play like that. I can do tea parties but I can never bring myself to act like an animal.”

“Yeh, no problem! You got a cute kid.”

“Thank you. Yours seems to struggle with speech for his age.”

“Ehh, he takes after his dad. I was kinda slow like that growin’ up. Me step-dad just thought I was born stupid.”

No matter what they discuss, Edward’s mind bounces with invasive questions. This is going to eat him alive tonight.

“Can I ask when you and Mallory moved here?”

“Mm? Sure, uh, like… six years ago? You live in Jersey long?”

Came to America to have a baby, Edward puts together. “My whole life. I never left.”

“No shit? Like it too much?”

“Not especially, no. It’s more like I can’t get out here.”

Digger shakes his head. “Yeah, I get whatcha mean. Felt like that about Oz. Glad to be outta there.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Eh, just… cost of livin’ and all that.” He says that as if it’s coming from the top of his head. “Mal thought it’d be better to have a baby over here.”

So, it was her idea…

“It’s weird not, not to jump topics, but Evelyn didn’t give me any ideas that she was married while she was with Mallory.”

His hand flexes. “She never mentioned it to you?”

“Nah, just that she was a single mother. But never seen Quinn til now.”

“Really? How long have you known Evelyn?”

“Pffshhh.. Half a year? When did ya divorce?”

“Two months ago.” Edward smiles bitterly. “Doesn’t that paint just a pretty little picture?”

Digger sits back in shock. “I… I can’t imagine goin’ behind someone’s back like that.”

“I just wish she told me the truth, but I suppose she thought I would be nasty. I would have loved her all the same.” Would I have? “We would have made it work… but she had to taint it.”

“That’s… bloody fucked. Callin’ you out for cheatin’ when she was… that’s— despicable, that. I would’a blown up in her face if that’s how Mal went about it before we separated.”

“Separated? You’re not divorced?”

“We haven’t finalized it yet.”

“I’m sorry. Let me get this right.” He sits up straighter and turns more towards him. “Are you telling me that Mallory is actively cheating on you while you’re going through the final stages of divorce? For six months, she’s been with Evelyn, right?”

“Yeah, she’s been with Evelyn that long. There was already a um… rift, with me and Mal with my drinkin’ and all… I’m at peace with it.”

“How can you be at peace with that?” Projecting, Ed, projecting...

“Like I said earlier, Eddy, I don’t deserve her. I was fuckin’ things up. Kept goin’ back on promises. If she’s happier with Evelyn then that’s fine by me. Does it hurt? No… Does it make me drink more? Yeah…”

Edward bites his lip before going for it. “If it makes you feel any better, I really don’t think Owen wants nothing to do with you.”

He perks up a little. “What do ya mean?”

“He… He firmly believes that you tucking him into bed is why you come home intoxicated. He thinks he’s the reason.”

Immediately, Digger’s eyes water and he quickly runs his hands over his face. “I gotta stay sober. God, that’s why…”

Edward is not sure what is appropriate here. Does he put his hand on his shoulder? Offer him another soda? He sits there helpless as Harkness softly cries.

“I-I told him I would protect you from the monsters.”

“Monsters? Oh my god… And you’re gonna protect me from ‘em?” Digger laughs breathlessly, tears running down his face like waterfalls. “That’s such a little kid thing… As long as he doesn’t know it’s the alcohol, it’s fine but–” He sniffles, chuckling some more as he leans back. “I guess you are protectin’ me, Ed.”

“I am?”

“If you weren’t here, I probably would’a gone off… Been itchin’ all day.”

Edward gets his phone from his back pocket. “Let me give you my number.”

“Wha– Why?”

“When you get home tonight and still feel itchy, I want you to call me. We can talk about whatever.”

His lips quiver. He can hear his teeth chatter. Without a word, they exchange numbers. His wet, almost pleading eyes stare at his screen. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.”

“No, Edward… You have no idea.” Tears hang on his eyelashes. “Thank you for treatin’ me like a person. For not kickin’ me out when I told ya what’s wrong with me.”

Edwards wants to take his hand and tell him everything is going to be alright. He holds back instead. His emotions have been akin to a whirlwind around Harkness throughout the whole night. “... I too have… I don’t know if it’s an addiction but it feels like one.”

“Yea? What do you feel like you’re addicted to?”

“Um… I’m not too comfortable saying. I hope that doesn’t offend you. I know that you–”

“Hey.” He touches his arm. “It’s alright. I know it ain’t personal– it is personal for you, I mean, but I don’t need to know shit.”

“You’re very kind, Digger.”

He scoffs, flicking his hand. “No, I’m not. You haven’t seen me at me worst. Haven’t seen me drunk.”

“... You should be kinder to yourself. It’s going to help you in the long run.”

Digger rubs his legs in discomfort. “Uh, you into sports?”

It was more than just idle chatter but less than a deep conversation. Casual but meaningful. Just watching him, Edward pieced together that Digger is not a completely genuine person. When speaking about his childhood, his stories would sometimes clash. However, Nashton let him continue without question. Digger has no need to be completely honest with him. If he wanted to romanticize his childhood to a stranger, he is allowed to. They are opposites, despite their similar upbringings. Harkness held no interest in reading but hearing Edward talk about what he is presently reading, he was wholly engrossed.

Digger is cute. Remarkably so…

For a liar, for a thief… Edward is not sure what a ‘normal’ person would feel at this moment. Falling in love with a man who has a dependency on liquor, one, he thinks, would try to push these feelings away and simply give him the aid he needs. Not having a good support system has only made the Aussie feel worse. He wonders if his heart would break if Digger took his card from his wallet to go buy beer. Should he be so in love with his man that, when his trust is tarnished, should he forgive him? How many times has Mallory forgiven him before the next episode? How much did her heart hurt when she decided to separate from a man who truly loves her but feels incapable of living without booze? How insecure is he that he must rely on alcohol to get through the night– and possibly day? Does he spend hours a day at a horrible job that he just wants to relax with a drink? He hates himself, that much is certain. Does he drink to forget? Does he drink in hopes that all the terrible in him will be washed out, like sins drowning after baptism?

Is an alcohol dependency anything like killing someone?

The rush of the first sip. The buzz in his head. Is he addicted to the rush it gives him in those first few sips? Edward remembers seeing the blood on his hands and being unable to stop laughing. The rush, the buzz. Dizzying relief. His mind never felt clearer. His pants were tight around his pelvis.

The pain he brought was over.

And they never found his body.

Does he drink in order to live with himself and his mistakes? Does it make him feel confident and stronger?

Edward has not been the same since then. He doesn’t regret it, not even an infinitesimal amount.

But Harkness feels guilty. Guilt like a small bacterial infection, steadily getting worse over time until one day a limb must be chopped off. Edward wonders how vastly this infection has spread over Digger’s body.

Will love even be enough to sedate it? A love like his is no other. Evelyn is very familiar with that.

It scared her.

The front door opens. Suddenly, Digger is on his feet. His eyes reflect the movie on the TV where a woman in the shower is screaming before a knife comes down upon her. Edward slowly stands and faces their wives.

Mallory is startled, hand on her chest. Evelyn’s face is twisted into something ugly. She glowers at Edward.

“George. You… you’re here.” Mallory finally speaks, out of breath. “I thought I told you to ignore what I said.”

Ignore…?

“I–uh, I never got that message.” Digger lies. He itches his calf with his foot. The weight of Evelyn’s glare has the Aussie twitching and fidgeting. “I’ll be on me way, alright? But um… I-I need a ride.”

Edward quickly pipes up. “I’ll take him home.”

“Eddy, it’s– it’s fine–”

“Um, no? You’re not going anywhere. I need to talk to you, Edward.” Evelyn snaps like a crocodile.

“Of course you do…” He growls bitterly.

“I’ll take you back, George.” Mal offers, desperate to step away from the tension.

Digger is fast, brushing by him and rushing past Evelyn and Mallory like he is a child knowing they are going to get a beating once they get home. He rips his coat from the hooks and accidentally pulls off two other jackets. He hisses under his breath and picks them up, dropping one of them not once but twice. With his head down, he grabs his shoes.

“I’ll be right back.” Mallory is pouting as she tells Evelyn. They share a brief kiss before she makes her way back to the foyer.

“Digger!” Edward makes a wide berth around Evelyn and grabs Harkness by the hand, shaking it. “It was wonderful speaking to you, getting to know you.”

He can feel Evelyn’s glare burn hotly on his neck. Mallory, again, is astonished. Fine. He has been an outcast before. He wanted her to feel rage. He wanted them to see this, see how sweet this Aussie truly is. The way his anxiety melts off his face inspires his heart to skip. Digger looks down at their hands then to his face. “You mean that?”

“Of course.” He replies, laying his interest on thick like icing.

He returns the smile, his lips slightly showcasing his teeth. He claps him on the shoulder. “You too, Eddy. I’ll see you soon?”

“Absolutely. Take care.”

As he pulls away, Edward attempts to curl his fingers around his.

“Absolutely.” Evelyn mocks, wobbling her head.

“It’s called being pleasant and polite, dear.”

“Don’t ‘dear’ me, you stupid–” She glances at the stairs in which Edward follows suit. Neither of them can see any kids trying to eavesdrop. Evelyn approaches him, her hair bobbing on each step. She whispers in a hiss. “George killed her dad, Edward.”

His head feels heavy. “What?”

“It was ruled as an accident because that asshole fucking lied that they were both drunk and Stanley just tripped off the balcony and fell on the fence. George shoved him.”

“How do you know he lied?”

“They hated each other! Stanley didn’t want them married. George eloped with her and moved them to America to get away from him. It was premeditated.” Evelyn then adds in excitement. “AND! George is a pathological liar! He lies about everything. Did he even tell you he lives in a homeless shelter?”

“No, he avoided that subject.”

“I’m not surprised. He should be ashamed of himself. I’m appalled that Mallory even lets him near Owen.”

“Owen misses his dad, Evelyn.”

“His dad is a–”

“Do not insult him.”

Her jaw drops open. “Are you seriously taking his side?!”

“No. I’m not. What you’re talking about is allegations. Unless you have sufficient proof– were you there when it happened?”

“No, but–”

“If you weren’t there, then how can you know that that’s what actually happened. Did Mallory see this?”

“No, let me–”

“Then I don’t want to hear the rest!”

Shouldering past her, he thought about slamming the door but he did not want to wake the kids up. He closes it softly and huffs to his car.

He drinks to forget, teeming with regret. He hurt the one he loved. Full of fret, trying to light the butt of his cigarette. He can’t live with the blood. Yet that only makes him more tempting.

Digger has been in contact with him for a week now, much to Edward’s delight. He will sometimes call him at two or three in the morning. He does not mind. He is still searching for a job. What use is sleep when capitalism haunts your nightmares?

Nashton did figure out where the homeless shelter is located. Indeed, it is one mile away from Mallory’s house, next door to a gas station. Edward has tried offering to chauffer him to his workplace, but Digger has declined his generosity each time.

Edward cannot blame him. He must feel stuck, forced to believe he is a burden.

He cannot help thinking after the midnight calls that Digger must consider himself a terrible person. The way he speaks about himself is full of self-deprecation and embarrassment. Yet he cannot handle encouragement, shutting Edward down when he can.

No matter how small the positivity, Harkness’ dark barrier shields him from the invaders. The infection must be spreading further.

Edward tries a different approach. Clearly, since Digger feels ashamed that he is hunkered down at a homeless shelter, Nashton extends an invitation towards him to come over. He sends him his home address through text, saying that he could spend the evening watching and explaining soccer/football to him. Harkness seemed thrilled about the aspect and told him that Australia is playing against Germany tonight.

He can't wait.

Giddy with excitement, Edward takes the time to clean his apartment. He researches what snacks are involved in watching sports. All of them are mostly salty and savory as well as messy, not Nashton’s first choice. He decides that as long as Digger can follow his house rules, it should be fine. He set some corn chips in a bowl and in the middle is three dipping sauces: ranch, guac, and salsa. He tries some of the salsa on his chip and hums, not minding the hot flavor.

He bought a two liter only for Harkness. Nashton is satisfied with water. He only drank soda that night just so Digger did not feel alone.

He made some cucumber sandwiches for himself as a palate cleanser.

Since the game is about to start in five minutes, he sends the Aussie a text. Read. But no reply. He gives it a few. He may be trying to find a ride. But those few minutes turn into fifteen.

His phone has yet to buzz.

Edward tries calling him but he only gets his voicemail.

He passively thinks that he should have put a tracker in Digger’s phone when they first met.

He had to be at a bar. Or he could be hopeful and believe that Harkness took a nap…

Surely… No, that isn’t the case at all.

After an hour, three sloppy knocks come from his door and Nashton’s heart sinks. Rushing over, he undoes the lock and yanks the door open. There stood an unbalanced Digger Harkness, reeking of alcohol. His face is wet with tears and he is still sobbing. He looks haggard. There is a dark bruise on his cheek and a bump over his left eye and he is gripping his arm. His knuckles are coated in blood.

“I’m sorry…!” The Aussie weeps. “I was-- I was on my way here.” He hiccups. “But I couldn’t think. I-i kept itching real bad. I couldn’t stop… I should’ve called you, I know I should’ve but I didn't. I-i didn't wanna be stopped, I wanted to drink. I-I’m so sorry, Eddy.”

He walked here again. From the shelter, to a bar, to his house…

Edward gently takes him by the shoulder and brings him into his house. “Come sit down, dear.”

“Strewth, you’re bein’ nice to me again.” Plopping down on the couch with a whine, he wipes his face with the backs of his hands, smearing the blood. “I shouldn’t have came.”

Edward grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and also dampens a rag. After handing it to the Aussie, he scrubs the cloth over his face, mindful of his injuries as he takes the seat beside him. His curious but dazed green eyes stare at him. He folds the rag and cleans up his hands. Fortunately, it does not look to be his blood.

His gaze never leaves him. Nashton nudges him. “Drink, Digger.”

Harkness does take the water and gets down a couple of gulps.

“Bar fight?”

“He started it.” He wheezes.

With Evelyn’s information in mind, he wonders if that is the truth. Digger does look like the kind of drunk to take out his aggression physically. But right now, he sits there all pouty and pitiful. Edward does not bother asking who he is or what was said.

Harkness is in his house now, that is all that matters to him.

“Why are you doin’ this, Ed?” Digger whinges. “What are ya gettin’ outta this?”

“I’m helping a friend.”

“You some kinda loser or somethin’? Dontcha got other friends won't-hic!- do this shit to you… Go back on their flamin’ promises?”

“I don’t blame you for this, Digger. It…” His boss, Peter Heinz’s dead body lays out in front of him. Mutilated. Dead on the empty street as Edward leaves him there, stumbling and delirious. “It happens without prior thought.”

It was difficult to wipe the blood off his steering wheel.

“But maybe I did mull it over. Maybe I…”

“Digger.” He squeezes his hand. “I’m not mad at you.”

Bewildered, Digger replies, “Why?”

“Because I get it.” Nashton states casually. “Keep drinking your water. Would you like anything mild to eat? I have whole wheat bread that will soak up the liquor, or perhaps some crackers?”

“I-I dunno.”

“I’ll get you the bread.” As he stands, Harkness stops him with his strong grip, which completely takes him aback.

“You gotta stop this shit, Eddy. I’m gonna blurt out that I love you and this ain’t gonna be the same anymore. Yer gonna reject me or throw me out and you’ll never talk to me again. I-i hate how nice you are to me an-and I fall in love so bloody quick. I shouldn’t feel like this just because yer the only person that’s given a shit about me. What kinda friend would I be? Just… just talking and not… not sssayin’...”

“Digger. Darling,” Trembling, Nashton lowers himself down and touches his face. Digger lightly gasps. His eyes are always so huge. Edward wants to dive into them. “Let me take care of you.”

“I’ve been a shit friend, Ed. Why would ya…?”

“We all make mistakes.”

Harkness shakes his head. “Ain’t nothin’ like my mistakes. Some not even mistakes. If you knew what I’ve done…”

Did Digger feel relief when he shoved Mallory’s father off the balcony, even if it was for a fleeting moment? Does he take pride in the kill? Is he only remorseful because it caused a rift between him and his soon to be ex-wife?

“Try me.” His heart is roaring in his ears. “Why don’t we focus on the game, mm? I’m getting you some bread.”

Digger lets him go this time. The Aussie is wasted, a rambling sad drunk. Inwardly, Edward is freaking out. Will he remember this when he is sober? That he blurt that out? Harkness strikes him as a bit of a coward. He may try to run if he isn’t careful.

Still, he wants to comfort the man, tell him that he too has the nasty habit of letting his emotions get the better of him. Love can hold in him a headlock. Evelyn described it as his kind of love possessing him like a demon. Nashton did attempt in a rather scummy way to cut off his ex-wife's friends. His reasoning behind it being that they were terrible influences and he is prone to believing he is right on all accounts. Walking red flags yet he could not see such things in his wife or in himself. So, Edward snooped. He searched through their social media. He memorized names of schools, relatives, and home addresses. To get Evelyn out of a party, he sent flowers to the host’s husband with the note saying I still haven’t forgotten that night. I miss you, baby, which, rightly so, sent his wife into a frenzy. The party was cancelled, everyone was shocked and Edward got to spend the night with his wife instead.

He hates sleeping alone.

Edward has thought about it more than once.

Framing her murder as a suicide.

She betrayed him, gaslit him. She told him he was crazy.

Crazy does not even begin to describe what all he can do to make her life a living hell.

He could punish Mallory too, but he does not think of that as much. He cannot consider hurting Digger. He still loved her. He always will. Edward cannot take that away from him.

Like Quinn, Owen needs his mother but he needs his dad too.

What to do…

The Australian calms down significantly over time, the football game that is thankfully still going is distracting him. He talks excitedly with his hands about the sport, explaining the plays, the players, and the cards. The players certainly love faking injuries. Edward understands why but after the fifth time he wonders how any of these men have any dignity in the sport. Digger just laughs at his complaints. Harkness is cute when whoops and yells as his country scores a goal. Throwing his arms and being somewhat touchy with Nashton, which in turn makes him blush. Edward adores this side of him.

He cannot find himself engaging in it the same way as Digger. He watches it passively as he eats the last of his sandwiches. Regardless, this is nice. It has been ages since he has sat down with anyone like this.

When he looks over at Harkness, he finds that he is staring right at him.

Edward smiles sweetly at him. “Yes, Digger?”

“I love you.” He spills out recklessly, “God, I love you so much. I know this sounds bloody stupid but I feel like a person around you.”

He’s drunk, Ed. He tries to quiet his aching heart with a steady breath. “You’re human just like everyone else, Digger.”

“Yeah? … I, uh, don’t always feel that way. It ain’t because of Mal or Evelyn by the way. I’m just… I ain’t welcome here.”

“You’re always welcome in my house.”

His belly jumps with his laugh. “Yer too bloody nice, Ed. It’s gonna getcha killed.”

“Kindness does not make me fragile. I can take it away the instant I feel threatened.”

“I ain’t threatenin’ to you? I don’t give ya those ‘creep’ vibes?”

“To me, you’re a father who just wants what’s best for his family… even if that’s taking yourself out of the picture. It’s quite selfless.”

Digger shakes his head. “I’m real selfless– selfish! I’m selfish.”

“We’re human beings. We have all been selfish since birth, acting as parasites to our mothers.”

Harkness frowns. “Evelyn called me that. Said I was leeching off Mal.” That burning addiction ignites in his gut. Harkness continues, “Kinda miss me mates but they were not great influences on me. Mallory had me break away from them when she got me to realize what was goin’ on. I miss ‘em though. We were all like brothers. I felt the love.”

“Where are they now?”

“Gone. They thought I was a wuss for listenin’ to me wife. Some of ‘em probably moved out by now. It’s been four years.”

“That’s not… That’s not love, Digger. If they loved you, they would have changed their ways. Realized they were in the wrong. Not be so immensely sexist.” Did Digger think they loved him because they were nice to him? Like Edward…

“How do you define it then? Love.”

“I define love as a sacrifice. You have to sacrifice something or multiple things for the person you care about. It doesn’t matter what it is. You give up a part of yourself to make a whole with that other person. Compromise. I sacrificed my own comfort at times to make sure Evelyn did not feel alone in the house. I cooked. I cleaned. At times, I sacrificed my own sanity for Evelyn. I then sacrificed quiet and privacy when Quinn was born. Sometimes, sacrifices are in vain. You blink and there is a man in front of you expecting you to fill out divorce paperwork. I sacrificed one more thing for Quinn: I let people believe I had an affair, because Evelyn could not afford to lose her job. But, to her, I could.”

Harkness does not reply. He does not need to. His puffy eyes are glued to his face.

“I apologize for the rant. I’m not at all petty, clearly.”

Digger snorts and snickers. “Clearly.” Then he frowns, his eyes clouding over. “You know what I think?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t think any of us are good people but… I think you're way less worse than me. And WAY less than Evelyn.”

“You’re sweet to say that.”

“No I'm not. It's just facts.”

“Hm. Where is Mallory on that list?

“Between you and me…”

To think they were once complete strangers. To be honest, they still are.

“Eddy?” He pipes up again.

“Yes, Digger?”

“Can I be a freeloader tonight? Can I sleep here? Just on the couch then I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

His dream comes true. It is almost funny how desperation clings to Nashton, how terrified he is to press any boundaries. Yet he puts his hand on his. A subtle but powerful gesture. “Stay, Digger. Have breakfast with me.”

Digger ogles, his drunk eyes tearing up again. “... Okay.”

Chapter Text

In the morning, Riddler does not hesitate in cornering Leonard seeing him up before the other Rogues. As much as he wanted to stay and cuddle Digger, he made a promise. So, he saunters to him, arms folded. “Good morning, Snart.”

“Nygma.” He returns gruffly, his coffee brewing above the campfire.

“Now, now, with that tone so early in the morning. Allow me to get to the point in this interaction. We both want… what’s best for Digger, correct?”

“Right.”

“And what is best for right now is that your band of Rogues and I…" His fingers feel over his palms as he forces his tongue to say his next set of word, "get along. I’m not saying we should be besties per say, but we shouldn’t be at each other’s throats. Are we in agreement?”

“Here’s the thing, Riddler…” He adjusts his sitting position. “I don’t fuckin’ trust you. You nearly broke Marco’s hand–”

“Let’s not forget," Edward nearly breaks into a laugh, "you attempted to attack me first. And I don’t take threats lightly. You should already be aware of that. If you are using that as a crutch to…” Feeling his all consuming anger vie for control, he mentally steps back. “Let’s start over.”

“Sure. I’ll start: what you said… about the Christmas thing, I slept on it and… I agree. I think we are all past overdue to spend the holidays together. But I am not okay with you trying to persuade him that he is better off without us.”

“Do you value him on your team?”

“Before I answer: let me ask you what your standard is.”

“Irreplaceable.” He spits.

Cold gives such an unparalleled look, disbelief. “Whoa, okay, goddamn… I didn’t think you loved him that much.”

Edward sits up straighter, his face softening. His heart cartwheels in his chest. “Your coffee is about to boil over.”

Carefully, Len takes the kettle off of the hook and pours the liquid into his mug. He vaguely gestures in offering a cup to Riddler but he shakes his head. “Ok. Listen, we’re not going to get into a contest on who loves him more. He’s my bro. I can’t really replace him either. But it’s different to what you two have – at least that’s what I’m assuming, I know he’s an idiot.”

“The biggest moron I’ve ever met.” He agrees with a nod.

“And yet you like him?”

“I did ask him out, yes.” That did not exactly answer the question.

“Wait, you asked him out? That is not what he told us.”

A smile teeming with fondness takes up his face. “I figured he would lie. I will say it was not a proposal with unique fanfare. It was… just a curious question. I never thought he would agree.” He says this quietly, almost as if this moment between him and Digger is a secret. “So flippantly too, like it didn’t matter…” His hands fidget. “Forgive me for asking such a probing question but does he talk about me?”

Snart scoffs. “Are you kidding? He gushes about you to Lisa all the time.”

“Lisa? Your sister?”

“Yeah, I’m not supposed to know.”

“Ahhh, I see… I will interrogate Lisa in the future.”

“You’re not supposed to know either.” He states, mostly as a warning.

“I like knowing things… He doesn’t really… give me much to go off on.”

His brows raise. “Really?”

“Yes, too macho for that, I’m sure. We’re getting off track.” He clears his throat and stretches his back. “I will ask again if we are in agreement that we should at least be tolerant of each other. And I will also apologize to Marco whenever he gets up.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s looking for one. And yes, we’re in agreement. But just know that I still don’t like you.”

“Oh, I despise you very much, Captain Cold.” He says with a cheery grin and stands. “Thank you for this talk.”

“No problem.” He finally takes a sip of his coffee, leering after the Riddler as he makes his way back to the Australian’s tent. “Still don’t trust you either…”

Harkness has never camped before as much as he would like to have everyone believe him to be an experienced bushman. He steers clear of the water and he does not wander too far away from camp. There is nothing for him to prove in either endeavor other than hurting himself. Riddler would kill him if he tried.

As he cracks open his soda, Digger plants himself down on a log and nods towards Marco who is rewiring a fishing pole. “Howz yer hand there, mate?”

Wizard takes a moment to demonstrate his flexibility. “Sore but the swelling went down overnight.”

“Yeah, eh, sorry ‘bout that, Eddy’s a firecracker.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. lo mataré…”

“Erh, righto.” He is not sure what that last bit means. “You gonna try fishin’?”

“That’s the plan.” Marco replies distractedly.

“Yea? Like on the dock?”

“Why would I not use the boat?”

“Dunno, dunno what could be out there.”

“Fish?” He pauses in his task to give him a questioning look. “It’s fish, Boomerang. Do you think a sturgeon is going to get you?”

“Are those shit the ones with the long noses?”

“You’re thinking of either a marlin or a swordfish, which, if that is the case, neither marine creature lives in this water.” Edward inserts himself into the conversation. Boomer pats the spot beside him but Nygma shakes his head with a polite smile, which disappoints the Aussie. He continues, “The food web that Lake Erie has consists of sea lamprey, piscivores, foragers, macroinvertebrates, zooplankton, and phytoplankton. Everything out in the water is harmless to us, as long as you do not purposely consume blue-green algae then you will be fine, Digger.”

“Well, is it blue or green?”

“I didn’t name it. I am also curious about fishing, Marco. Have you done it before?”

He nods stiffly. “Few times.”

“I’m afraid the chance never spurred on despite living in a peninsula state. However, now that I am here, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt trying. I can row and steer the boat for you.”

Marco squints at him. “A generous offer, Riddler…”

He says Riddler as if it were an insult. Edward catches his tone and sweetens his voice. “Keep your wand on you if you wish, I have left my cane in the tent. Digger, will you be joining?”

“Uhh, no.”

His lips pull down subtly. “No?”

Such a small change in his facial features spurs panic within him. “I-I can’t swim. Y-you know how I feel about water, Ed.”

“Of course I’m aware of your phobia, but this isn’t the ocean, darling. It’s much safer here.”

Marco grunts as he stands up. “It’s best that he doesn’t come along. His loud mouth will draw the catch away.”

To his despair, Edward chuckles, “I suppose that isn’t untrue.”

“Oi!” Digger springs up and smacks the back of his hand onto his chest. “Be on my team, Ed!!”

His gaze follows his hand before meeting his gaze through a dissatisfied look. He crosses his arms, suddenly protecting his chest. “You prefer I lie to you?”

“I can be quiet!”

Riddler scoffs and disengages from the party, making his way towards the boat.

“... I don’t think he liked that, Boomer."

Boomer’s eyes shift. “Don’t get whutcha mean, mate. Didn’t like what?”

“You just– nevermind, you figure it out. I don't want to be alone on a boat with him! Help a hermano out! He’s your man.”

Digger feels a rush of heat cling onto his face. “He– he ain't my– I mean – he’s prolly tryna, y’know, do his way of apologizin’ to ya.”

Rolling his eyes, Wizard pouts. “Harkness, you’re not even jealous that I’m going out there with your man, alone?”

“He– he’s not–”

“Boomie!” Edward calls out.

Harkness snaps to attention. “Yeah, Ed?!”

“Where’s the bait box? Do you know?”

“Uhhhh–”

“I do, I’ll get it.” Marco steps out to block Edward’s view of Boomer’s face. “Get on that boat with me.”

“I’ll chuck a sickie! That ain't sexy!!” He hisses in a low voice.

Marco rolls his eyes again with his head this time and trudges towards the van. Ignoring that tantrum, Boomerang makes a beeline towards Edward.

“Ey! What did I say before that upset ya?”

“You didn’t say anything.” Riddler replies with fake nonchalance as he puts on a life jacket. Shit, he is mad.

“Eddy, don’t give me that–” His hand is smacked away before he had the chance to touch him.

“How clear must I be? You didn’t say anything. That is the truth.”

“Bloody hell– what didn’t I say? You can’t just get all passive-aggressive like you do! I don’t know what’s wrong less you flamin’ tell me!”

“Well, unfortunately, I am not in the mood to hold your hand this time. Why don’t you retrace your steps, mm? Recall the conversation and see what led up to this moment of what you didn’t say.”

Riddler and his damn puzzles. Digger, at least, has known him long enough to figure out one piece of the puzzle. It is something he didn’t say. Very obvious. Marco said he didn’t like that. What Harkness said before was that he can be quiet but again it wasn’t what he said… what he didn’t say… An action? Edward looked irritated after he–

“Ed, it was a little tap! That’s what yer upset about?”

“Oh! A little tap, he says.”

“Wot? Did I hurt you? C’mere, lemme see.” He says and urges him off the boat so gently that Edward’s guard plummets to the ground.

“I-I am uninjured.” Riddler reassures him, grabbing his wrists before they unclip his buckles. “Your concern is very sweet.”

“What’s wrong?” He implores, stepping into his space. He twists his hands in his grasp to hold and rub his thumbs into his skin.

Thankfully, Edward does not create distance between them. “I just… didn’t appreciate being hit like that.”

“It was friendly! Wasn’t tryna hurt cha.”

“Your intentions were clear. However, I am not one of your mates like Leonard or Samuel. You understand that, right?”

“I mean, yeah, I do but I don’t get why…?”

“That sort of gesture is suitable for friends… We are more than that, wouldn’t you agree?”

Are we? Digger wanted to return but his throat closed in on itself before he could ask. They have to be more than friends, gotta be. Especially if Edward thinks so then that is one step closer… “‘Course.”

Everything about Riddler relaxes as if he was looking for validation, not the other way around. “Then… I would like to not be tapped like that.”

There might as well be a hamster running on a wheel that is the engine connected to his brain and the wheel is running hot in confusion. “Okay.”

Nygma smiles again and squeezes his hands. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

“Yeah, just don’t let the fish bite you first, I called first dibs.”

“Sure, dear.” His voice trembles in an attempt to not break into a laugh and he carefully descends into the boat.

“If that was you flirting, Digger,” Harkness jumps, hearing Marco's voice that close to him– “to quote James: you beefed it.”

“Get stuffed, Marco!” He smacks him as Wizard climbs down from the dock. “Whatever! Enjoy the tinnie ride.”

Edward looks up at him. “... Tinnie means boat?”

“Beer, boat, same dif.”

“No??” His face scrunches, restraining a smile. “One is a vessel for beer and the other is a vessel for people.”

“Do you gotta nitpick at every flamin’ thing I say?!”

“It’s entertaining!”

“It is funny.” Marco agrees just to throw the Aussie under the bus.

“Oh fuck off both of yas!”

Digger definitely did not watch them the whole time. That would be boring and borderline creepy. Harkness invested his time in playing volleyball with the remaining land Rogues. Did he play well? Not at all. He can boomerang anything but that apparently isn’t allowed in volleyball and that usually penalized him and Sam when he tried.

“Where’s your head at, Harkness!” Mick taunts when the ball propels into the water again. “I’m not getting it again, you go get it!”

“You’re closer!”

“Boomer, you’ve chucked it over there three times. Go get the ball.” Len orders.

Harkness whips his head over to his teammate and puckers his lips, offering him big pitiful eyes. Mirror Master looks anywhere but at him.

“Don’t you fold!” Rory shouts. “Sam. Sam. Don’t.”

“Sammmyyyyyy…” Digger whines, getting in his bubble. “Saaaaam.”

Sam leans as much as he can away even stumbling back. “Boomer, please–”

“Harkness! The ball!”

Boomerang protests with a whine but Mirror is firm in his refusal, closing his eyes and craning his head. Digger finally stops and huffs. He glances at the van and suddenly makes a break for it.

Cold snatches him by the back of his shirt. “You are not getting my gun!” He drags him towards the water and Boomer hurriedly slips out of the tank top. But Mick tackles him to the ground before he could get any traction.

“We could have the ball by now if you would just get it!”

“Be bloody faster if one of ya wusses did it!”

“You’re the only wuss here, Digger!”

“I ain’t a wuss!!” He pushes into the ground to try to roll out of his hold but Rory adjusts himself by snagging his neck.

“What are you doing?!” Edward’s voice crosses the lake towards them.

“Your boyfriend won’t get the ball!” Len snaps.

“I’m not a wuss!” He finds strength out of sheer embarrassment and flings Heatwave off of his back. “I’ll get it! Fuckin’ hell…”

Boomerang marches towards the water and he quickly loses momentum. He glances around the small beach for any driftwood or sticks for him to use. The ball is too far away from the dock. He refuses to glance over at the boat. With his teeth grinding together, he advances into the lake. The freezing temperature slaps a cry out of him.

“It’s bloody cold!”

“Yeah!” Mick counters. “I know! You didn’t hear me complaining!”

Then why aren’t you fuckin’ doin’ it?! He would have shouted back if Edward wasn’t watching him. He had to prove he wasn’t a huge wuss to him. If Riddler thinks they are more than friends, he NEEDS to impress him by conquering his fears.

Digger holds his breath and as fast as he can approaches the ball that slowly drifts further away due to the ripples he is causing. The cold water is now up to his stomach. Tears sting his eyes. His poor desert suited skin underneath the surface is shriveling up. Uttering a slew of profanities, he finally scoops the stupid ball into his grasp and nearly falls head first on his desperate way to shore. He catches himself with his free hand, launching another cry of discomfort when his arm is fully submerged. The water licks under his pits. His stomach quivers. His face, it's too close to his face. The cold abyss stares back at him with his own frightened eyes, mocking his pain. He forces himself to pause so that he does not topple over further. Carefully, he shifts his feet to a more grounding stance and lifts his torso out of the drink. His face stings– everything is stinging and tingling. Eventually his feet touch the dry earth. He chucks the ball away before collapsing onto the ground. Sand and dirt clings onto his wet body, coating him with another cold and irritating sensation.

“Harkness, get up.” Len calls out in annoyance. “You’ll dry off by the end of the game.”

“I’m done. I’m cold, I’m wet– I can’t breathe.” He chokes out as he wheezes. “I don’t wanna play anymore.”

“I’ll go grab you a towel, Digger.” Sam offers, his voice drifting away.

“Yeah, sure…”

“Dude, stand up, you’re fine–” Mick puts a hand on him.

“Shut up, Mick!” Digger bites, louder than he anticipated his voice to be.

Heatwave rips his hand away from him like he touched an open flame without his suit. “Ok! Ok, leaving you alone.”

Boomerang lays there, focusing on getting as much oxygen as he can, yet in his panicked mind it never feels like enough. Despite the close call, he can physically feel his head being submerged underwater. The tips of his hair strands dripping water down his neck do not help this hallucination. He can still see the water beneath him, grinning back at him with its mangled teeth. He is not sure how much time has passed or how much longer it was going to take Sam to get a towel but now he hears footsteps hurry across the dock.

“Shit, Eddy. I-I’m okay.” Through his trembling, he powers through it and stands up with a stumble. He tries to bat away his advances but Edward persists. “I’m alright, Ed, I’m okay– I’m overreactin’.”

“You need heat.” He hisses. “Thank you, Sam.” Digger feels cloth wrapping around him, he holds onto it and tries to drag the towel over his torso but the damp cold remains. The dirt and sand grind against him with no sign of releasing their hold. Finally opening his eyes, the first thing he sees is the anger on Edward’s face. “Follow me, Digger, there’s a facility up the road. They have showers.”

His legs feel tight and he can feel a cramp coming on as they walk. But with Riddler’s keen perception, they slow down. When they are far enough away from camp, the threads Nygma had so tightly wound are now coming loose. “You’ll be fine, they said. Oh no, just leave him on the ground. Force him into the water…” He continues to grumble.

“Eddy, don’t blame it all on them–”

Riddler carries on, talking louder. “The main cause of death in men is their masculinity being questioned and therefore they do the stupidest things to amend it! Hypothermia, yes, that’s what I want to see you die from…”

“I did that to impress you!”

“Yes! Consider me sooooo impressed with that childish endeavor.”

His lip wobbles involuntarily. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, dear.” He sighs, patting his back. “None of this is your fault.”

“I threw the ball into the lake… Kept gettin’ distracted.”

“Oh? By what?”

“Just… kept makin’ sure you were still upright in that tinnie.”

Edward sighs again, deeply. “Why your friends chose to camp next to a lake is beyond me.”

“Not all of ‘em really get why it freaks me out so bad. They just know I get seasick.”

“Yes, I could tell that much.”

Ruining everything, that seems to be what Digger does best. They press on in silence occasionally broken up by Riddler’s biting rants. Calming him down he knew to be a vain effort. I cannot replicate what he did when Nygma edged towards an autistic meltdown. This rage is different, much more volatile if the wrong buttons are pressed. His gaze remains downcast throughout the rest of the trek.

Now with concrete under his feet, Boomerang peels off his soaked clothes and lets them as well as the towel drop onto the hard floor. Digger is not sure when Edward got their duffel bags from their tent but right now that is none of his concern. He watches Riddler sort through each bag and individually remove one article of clothing, folds them, and sorts them into two piles.

“Yew showerin’ with me, Ed?”

“I’m thorough and I’ll make it quick.”

They have showered a few times together, usually after a messy night. Digger… really likes the attention Edward gives him in the bath. It is a form of aftercare– body worship. Harkness takes pride in his appearance on the outside, owning it. But Nygma can see his insecurities. Caressing his dad bod, remarking his “handsome glow,” it is enough to make him tear up.

He doesn’t make a comment when Riddler strips. When the shower door closes behind them, he does not try to grab a handful of his ass which always earns him a half-hearted smack on the wrist. A quick dismissive no but blush always blooms on his cheeks. He is adorable, gorgeous in his birthday suit. Unfortunately, Digger cannot find that energy within him. As Edward drags the soapy rag over the muck, he does not mention how he looks on his knees or how close he is to his dick. Harmless teasing. Digger would go on for as many rounds as Riddler asked of him. Unadulterated…

Affection. That’s the word. Definitely not anything else running through his mind that he deems too intimate to admit aloud.

Casual sex, is that what they do? Is it that casual if one of them craves something… deeper? Is what they have deeper casual? Like two souls aching to be entwined beyond just physicality… He has definitely been around Riddler too long if he is thinking all poetic like this. He sounds stupid. Two souls entwined? Bullshit. He has no reason to believe in any of that hopeless romantic crap. He’s such a big Aussie man, roughed up by… rage… whatever.

“You’re so quiet, darling.”

Digger has never felt so relieved to hear Riddler’s voice. “Yeh…”

“I’m stunned, actually. You’re not begging me for sex.”

“Haven’t done anythin’ to warrant that, don’t think. Don’t need ya to give me a pity root.”

Edward frowns in just that. Sympathy. He stands up, deciding to continue their perpetual silence as he rinses off the back of his legs. He was just making conversation, Digger, trying to cheer you up. What are you even doing? What makes you think that he wants anything to do with you after this? He wasn’t impressed, he is narked off– prolly at you too. He must be devising a way to break things off. He got the ick and now he has to hatch an escape plan–

“Come back to me, sweetheart.”

He’s still here. His nose tingles as tears threaten the corners of his eyes. “Sweetheart?”

Riddler gives him such a… kind smile, one full of promise. “You’re thinking too heavily. I can hear it... I’m not mad at you.” He strokes his thumb over his beard and Harkness leans after it.

“... You didn’t… get the ick?”

“The ick.” Edward repeats, giggling. “Your belching gives me the ick but here we still stand.”

“I’m full of hot air…”

“In more ways than one.”

“Oiiii!”

“You walked into that one, sweet.”

Digger grunts, headbutting his shoulder to hide his own smile. Nygma accepts this as an invitation to cradle him. His fingers expertly twirl and pet his locks as his other hand lovingly caresses his bicep. His cock twitches and embarrassment wafts through him. His touch-starved skin is still unused to Riddler’s chaste advances.

“What do you think about a…” Edward begins, his volume just barely over the sound of running water. “I haven’t seen you in two weeks… root?”

His body prickles with new heat. “Uh… Rather do a lot more to ya, can’t really, uh, y’know.”

“A prelude, perhaps? Where we just…” Riddler trails off. “I would rather not pressure you.”

“No pressure at all.” He closes the gap and rests his head against his cheek. Immediately, Edward melts into him, their hips joining. His soft hands feel up and down his broad back. “When we get back to yer place… it ain’t gonna look the same.”

“Threatening to fuck me on every surface?”

He reaches down and wraps his hand around both of their members. Nygma’s cock throbs in his touch.

“Couch, kitchen counter… in the shower, ‘gainst the wall, bend ya over on yer desk… Lift ya perky ass up while yer on the floor. Spank it.”

“Planning to defile me, mm?”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m aimin’ to desecrate you, Riddles. Just the two of us at yer place, I wanna give ya a good time. Not just another– mm… bed’s fine, just… Can do more.”

“And you’d prefer to make a mess of my abode?”

“Can go to my apartment instead. Hafta– mmph, make it presentable for ya.”

“Aren’t you squatting there?” He questions him again, breathless. His hips grind into his fist. “We would only get kicked out, darling…”

“Hide, fuck, think that’s pretty thrillin’, aye? Kinda like what we’re doin’ right now. Counts as public sex, don’t it?”

“Not many people are camping in March… I believe your Rogue friends are the only ones here.”

“Mmm, forest rangers could come by, Eds. Stay here long enough, someone’s bound to walk in.”

“Is that what you’re hoping for? How perverted…” There is no disgust or disappointment in his tone. Digger has been wrong before but discussing voyeurism seems to get Edward going. His fingers are curling into his back.

“They’d be minding their own business. We’d both hafta stay quiet. Maybe you’d grind inta me to encourage me to keep fuckin’ ya.”

“My hand would need to be on your mouth– or you would be gagged. I would meet you in the middle, or perhaps I would take over.”

Imagining Riddler riding him sends a horrible shiver through Digger, blossoming gooseflesh. “Shit…”

Nygma leans in and nips his neck with his canines before opening his mouth to gnaw and suck there. Harkness bucks under the new plume of arousal, his legs trembling. The conversation stops in its tracks replaced by gradual moans and sharp inhales. Boomerang accelerates his strokes, bending Edward backwards as he does.

It does not take long for either of them to break. Nygma bites down, nearly breaking skin, when he climaxes which sends Digger over the edge.

Releasing his cock, Boomer holds Riddler firmly in his arms. Call him whatever you want but Digger needed that. He can tell Edward did too with how limp his form is. His arms dangle even as Harkness adjusts their positions. Nygma moans into his skin, his heavy hands lifting to rub his affections into the Aussie’s hips and waist.

Another opportunity arises. He wants to cup his face and bring him into a sensual kiss. He yearns to pin this man to the wall and beg for round two. The water rinses them clean. Unfortunately, after a few more moments of rapturous afterglow, Edward’s wonderful warm perfect body slips out of his grasp and he turns off the shower head.

Digger bit back his sexual desires as they dried off. Even more so when Edward was dressing. He had to tear himself away before he acted on impulse. Now, they walk together back to camp, hand in hand. This, this felt good. It felt right. He wondered if this feels just as good to Nygma... Dumb question to ask. He doesn't bother.

Sam is the first to notice their return and addresses them with a touch of concern. “Hey, you doin’ better, Digs?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” He immediately downplays. Edward lightly squeezes his hand. “Feelin’ better.”

“Mmm, I would think so if that bruise is anything to gleam from.” Marco teases lightly with a smirk.

Boomer bristles, face flushed. “Least I got a boyfriend to have fun with, aye? Mister… eh… Single.”

“Oh ow.” Marco places a hand to his chest. “Mick must have brought his flamethrower. Ow.”

“Shut uuuup!”

“If you could excuse us, please, we need to put our bags away.” Edward’s voice is teeming with nerves. Anxiety riding his coattails, Harkness follows after him towards their tent. After tossing their bags into the tent, he whirls around with wide eyes. “Did you refer to me as your boyfriend?”

It takes him a bit more than a second to connect the dots. And when he does, his heart skyrockets into his throat. Shit, did Edward not want to be called his boyfriend? Why DID he call him his boyfriend?! In front of his mates too, this is just perfect– now he is going to get bullied… “Uh!! I-I just– I was put on the spot, Ed! I-I mean, should we really put a label on it? I mean, er, sure we’re fuckin’ and all but like what’s that mean, you know?”

Riddler nods stiffly, before coldly letting go of his hand and walking away.

“Wh– Eddy, wait! What did I say?!” Yet he does not run after him. He instead runs his hands through his hair before shooting a glare at Sam and Marco, whose heads turn to watch Nygma approach the campfire. Snarling, Harkness bolts towards them. Scudder tackles him to restrain the Aussie from making a more physical mess. Boomerang shouts in frustration, writhing in his grip “Marco! This was your flamin’ fault!”

Weather Wizard lifts his hands, eyes big from confusion. “I’m not the one that backtracked, pendejo.”

“Rhhhghhfffuck! Lemme go, Sam!” He squirms out of his grasps. Edward cannot see him acting like this. He needed to be alone to think. He embraces the woods, stepping over large foliage. “Ow–Fuck fuck fuck fuck…!”

“Maybe one of us should go after him.” Scudder suggests, scratching the back of his neck. “He’s gonna get lost.”

“I’ll go get lover boy.” Cold announces, annoyed. “If Riddler wasn’t here…”

“How about I go talk to Edward?”

“I wouldn’t unless you need to. Just watch what you say around him, he’ll twist it.”

“Got it.” Sam does not approach Riddler the same way Snart would. Nygma is a threat to the Rogues, but Sam cannot picture him as that. Yes, he is a threat in general but right now? The man is sulking next to a flame with his knees curled into his chest, a grown man experiencing the highs and lows of a chaotic romance with an Australian who is the worst at communication.

Mick, who is already there tending the fire, does not engage with Edward.

Sam steps over the bench and sits down near the Riddler. He grabs and drags the snack bag closer to him. He takes a stick and plugs a giant marshmallow onto the end.

He lets a moment pass before asking gently, “Wanna talk, Riddler?”

He subtly shakes his head. “No.”

“Alright.” Sam doesn’t push. He twists the twig until the marshmallow is a nice even golden brown. He leans back and withdraws from the bag a bar of chocolate that he snaps in half and two graham crackers. He assembles the snack and offers it to the Gothamite. “Want a s’more?”

This time, Edward accepts and bites into it, chewing slowly. Scudder smiles kindly and repeats the process for himself. As he carefully peels the marshmallow from the stick, Edward finally speaks, “Digger is so stupid.”

“Heheh, tell me about it.” He swings the parcel over to Mick, who catches it by the strap.

“Why must he feel so scared around his peers? Why must he care so vehemently?”

“That's just who he is as a person. He’s super sensitive.” He downs the thick s’more with a couple of sips from his canteen. “He also cares a lot about what you say. Or don't say.”

Edward hums softly. Surprisingly, he goes in for another bite. He mutters that Sam made a very nice s’more but the marshmallow could have been a bit less golden. Scudder thanks him, regardless. Mick meanwhile rolls his eyes as his marshmallow burns.

After another pause, Sam decides to continue. “Someone as stupid as Digger needs a lot of patience. He can’t help it. He makes some gnarly mistakes but he tries to make up for it because he’s such an emotional guy.”

“Sometimes, he needs a push.” Mick chuckles to himself. “Cold’s gotta shove him to get him to cooperate.”

Nygma offers a noncommittal hum. Mirror leaves it for now until–

“You and Leonard’s sister are an item, correct?”

He shouldn't be surprised at that question. “Yeeeah?”

“How long?”

“Years. We got married a couple of months ago.”

Edward looks at him fully, staring owlishly. “Truly?”

“Mmmhm, I would show you my ring but it's not on me. I didn’t want to lose it out here.”

“Digger did not mention a wedding.”

“Nah, we just went to the courthouse. We didn’t make a huge deal out of it.”

“Well… congratulations. I assume Leonard gave you his blessing.”

“Oh! Thank you. Ah, yeah, in his own way.”

When Sam thinks Edward is done talking, he pipes up again. “... Am I to also receive his blessing? Since Digger and I are… intimate.”

Scudder feels a twinge of relief that Nygma is not giving up on his brother in crime. “It depends on if you want to kiss his ass.”

“Preferably, I would not like to. But I suppose for you, it was a must.”

“Sam broke the bro code.” Mick answers for him, smirking. “He pays for it everyday.”

“Hm, I don't have that going for me then.”

Sam pokes his stick at Heatwave. “Is it breaking the bro code if you’re in a relationship with your own boss?”

Riddler’s face lights up. “Oh?”

Rory shrugs, too nonchalant for his own good. “Who said I was?”

“You hinted at it yesterday.”

“I was just, as Boomer would say, taking the piss.”

Scudder narrows his eyes, puckering his lip. “I don’t know. Len got pretty defensive.”

The arsonist waves his words away with his hand and speaks with his mouth full. “He’s always defensive. He’s got a hot temper.”

“And do you act as ice and cool him down, Heatwave?” Nygma ventures, smiling slyly.

Mick returns it, a little too smiley as if the secret is right behind his teeth. “Who’s to say?”

With the conversation derailing, Marco joins in the circle and the four of them casually converse about cars– the differences between Iron Heights and Arkham Asylum. Sam did manage to flatter Edward enough for him to open about his own mirror gun although not to the detail that he wanted. The thought of stealing it would incur a terrible wrath he did not want to be at the receiving end of. Besides, Riddler is only using it to bridge the long distance between him and Digger. No foul play here.

Just as Edward mentions his anxiety about Boomerang being away for too long, they hear two voices edging towards the camp. Riddler almost leaps out of his seat.

“Boomsie!” He calls out when he sees him, waving his hand. Thankfully, Digger appears unscathed. “We have s’mores, I made one for you!”

“No, you didn’t!” Mick protests, appalled with undertones of pure amusement. “I made that!”

“You hush.” Nygma hisses at him, which only encourages the Rogue to burst into laughter.

Cold brushes by his squad towards his tent while Harkness slows up, looking sheepish. “Uh, thanks, Ed.”

Instantly, Edward forgets about the snack and makes his way over to him. “What did that mongrel say to you?”

“Mongrel…?! Wha– no, Snart didn’t– this ain’t about him. Look, you can’t bloody call me that in front me mates.”

This. This again. His heart hangs loosely in his chest. Edward clenches his jaw and fists in order to not yell or smack the stupidity out of his body. “Fine.” He grits out and before he can back off, Digger snatches his arm.

“Eddy! Wait! Don't act like this–!”

“Oh! Excuse me.” He thrusts his hand off of him. “How do you want me to act?! Lie down and pretend my feelings aren't hurt because you can't be comfortable in your masculinity?”

The light from the fire illuminates half of the shock on his face. Even as a minute creeps by, the obnoxious Australian is silent.

Edward folds his arms and shrugs in exasperation. “I'm waiting for a retort.”

He gulps. “I…! I-I’m sorry, Edward.”

“I don't want an apology. I want action! Must you worry so aggressively about your little friends’ opinions of you? None of them have kept a relationship longer than you have! … Except Samuel. But what do the rest of them know? They can't even talk to a woman properly.”

“Hhhheh, yeah…” He laughs uncomfortably, “Should see ‘em get their heads kicked in at the bar.”

Huffing, he attempts another escape but he is once again thwarted by his touch. “Eddy, love, please, don’t leave me.”

His desperation– the neediness in his voice wrecks his metaphorical wall. He does not usher him through words but he waits. Giving him patience just like Sam said.

And eventually, Digger confesses, “I know we’re datin’ and all, Ed but… what is this?”

“You don't know…”

“Been followin’ yer lead! I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“Yes, I can very much tell… We should talk about this some other time.”

“Nah ah, you're upset.” Instead of forcing Edward to look at him, he steps over debris to face him. Riddler can see the campfire reflected in his eyes. “I’ve been fuckin’ up all day. You want somethin’ from me, right?”

“From you? This… we…” Riddler rubs his face for there is no physical way for him to confront his feelings. “Getting into this now–”

“I don't want us not talkin’ ‘bout it now be the reason why you dump me.”

“Digger!” He exclaims in awe. “You think I’m going to dump you?”

“I ain’t smart, Eddy.” He says with his bottom lip wobbling. “I want this to work.”

“Darling…!” Bringing him into an embrace, Digger does not hesitate to reciprocate this time. “I want this to work too. But that means we need to put equal effort into this. Relationships… drive us out of our comfort zone and we are to become better people for it. More confident. And right now, I know you are staring at your friends.”

“How did ya flamin’-”

“They aren’t looking at us. Even if they are, why let them win, Digger? Show them how single and pathetic their lives are.”

His snort-laugh relaxes him. “Yer so petty, Ed.”

“You did it once before. Surprised me even… and then you folded.”

“I was a drongo for that… Do you… shit.” He pulls away, holding Edward’s arms. He takes a trembling inhale and breathes out through his mouth. He rolls the nerves out of his shoulders. “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

His eyes sparkle brighter than the stars above him. “Genuinely?”

“Is that too official? Like… does that fit us? Haven’t even done first base…”

“First base? Are we twelve?” Edward says dismissively yet Boomer knows there is that desire lying underneath. The man has been physically begging for one and his nerves are shot. “Let's go with… Partner. Boyfriend is so juvenile.”

He has to do something. Gulping that anxiety building in his throat like mucus, he takes Nygma’s hand and kisses his knuckles.

Another pack sealed between them.

“Partner.” He echoes, planting another kiss there.

Riddler is gorgeous like this. Not to dig on him never shutting up, but he is pretty when he is quiet. He wonders if Edward is thinking the same. Fair, if so. Regardless, his gaze intense with hunger pulls him in. Digger places a foot in between his legs, easing into him. Raising his hands, he gingerly cups his sharp angular face. His curly lashes flutter and his lips part. The soothing thrum of the forest, the lake makes for a perfect ambiance for such an occasion as this. Harkness cannot help his curious fingers and glides his thumb over his bottom lip. He feels Edward’s quivering exhale tickle his chin. Should he close his eyes for this? Don’t overthink this, Digger, you’ll screw it up again. He dips his head to the side and opens his mouth further.

A harsh heat suddenly washes over them, the darkness from their eyelids suddenly bright red. Boomerang snatches Edward and holds him to his chest as he looks over towards the short lived calamity that is Mick having WAY too much fun with the fire. A cloud quickly forms over the flame and expels rain in one singular spot. His heart pounds in his ears. Nygma is clinging onto him, his head buried in his chest. Riddler showing unpracticed vulnerability and a touch of fear? Impossible.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Boomerang shouts at them. Nygma is somewhat choking him from how hard he is gripping and pulling on his shirt.

Rory yells over the noise. “I SAID SORRY!” Cold smacks the back of his head.

Feeling Edward’s hand on his pec brings him back into their reality. He turns to see Nygma too close to his face. Despite this being familiar to their prior proximity, Digger turns his head away and lowers his hands. He wills his voice not to shake. “Ahem .. sorry, know you said you dont need someone playin’ hero for ya. If uh, Marco couldn’t handle that, I’m sure you woulda had a plan in hand, yeah?”

“I would, yes.” Riddler agrees, clearing his throat. He too makes a bit of distance between them as he fans his face. “Although... a hero is nice to have sometimes.”

Digger is not sure if he is embarrassed from their unexpected intimacy or that he clung onto Boomer like a baby koala. “Yeah?”

Edward looks down as he smiles, suddenly shy. “Clearly, your friends cannot be left alone too long. Shall we rejoin them… partner?”

All of the sudden, he feels lighter and able to take off into the open sky. Without prompt, he snags Edward’s hand and squeezes it. He bends down and kisses it again, anxious to find an outlet for his overwhelming joy. “Sure thing, partner.”

It seems Riddler is attempting to downplay his excitement, but he cannot stifle his giggles nor hide the giant grin on his face.

“Let’s keep quiet for this meeting, alright?” Cold, and the rest, glance back towards the Aussie’s tent. They all had to individually pretend to head to sleep to convince the two love birds to hit the hay themselves. It took an hour of waiting due to them staying up, just chatting and giggling like they are teenagers telling each other secrets. It would have been sweet if it was not the Riddler with one of his Rogues.

“Why don’t you start, Len?” Sam prompts him.

“It’s weird… seeing Edward happy like this. And the fact that Boomer is the reason why? I don’t know. I don’t get it.”

“You still thinkin’ he’s faking it?” Sam queries, keeping an eye on the tent from where he is positioned. "After today, I seriously don't think so."

“No, he would start bragging if he was.” Snart determines.

“The Riddler is smitten with Captain Boomerang.” Rory snickers softly. “Riddle me that!”

“Their way of flirting sounds like an argument.” Marco adds, shaking his head. “I’m confused how this even came about. No offense to Digger, but I would think… you know who would have higher standards. I keep thinking about what Digger told us.”

“Harkness was embellishing.” Len clarifies bluntly. “Edward just asked him if he wanted to date and he said sure.”

Marco sucks on his teeth. “That doesn’t sound very Riddler. I figured he would make a whole show out of it. He is not a very spontaneous person– well, he is but not in that way.”

Sam thumbs his cup. “I’ve got a hypothesis. Do you think Edward fell in love first? And him asking Digger out was his way of claiming him? When Mick and I were talking with him, I was getting the idea that he wanted to keep Digger close. Do I know why? No. I couldn't get that out of him.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry but I gotta say it. His dick game cannot be that good.” Mick admits with a disgruntled frown. “I mean it’s big but I don’t think he knows what to do with it.”

“It can’t be his personality.” Cold scoffs.

“I don’t know?” Sam muses. “They’re opposites in a lot of ways, maybe Edward likes that? He ran– RAN to Boomer when he first saw him. He had to have really missed him. Boomer’s gotta be doing something right, you know?”

“Perhaps that Digger Charm he claims that he has… works?” Marco suggests unconvinced himself.

Len clicks his tongue. “That's... possible. He’s screwed up a lot today and yet Edward is in his tent.”

“And Riddler is not a forgiving guy at all.” Mick points out, nudging Cold.

“Nope. Maybe, there is something in Digger that Edward has a soft spot for?”

They mumble in collective agreement before silence prevails again.

“The fuck is likeable about Digger?” Heatwave cannot say it with a straight face. Sam playfully smacks his arm while Marco pokes him in the side.

Upon next morning, the Rogues began packing up the campsite. No use in continuing the facade when Riddler has proven victorious. He does not gloat, defying Len's expectations. However, he does practically skip up to him. “Cold." He starts with an underlying tone. "Is Boomie needed back at your base?”

Snart refusing to even look in their direction. He can feel Digger's pleading look drill into his head. He huffs, “No.”

“Wonderful, I’m taking him home then.” Riddler shoots Boomerang a pleased grin and hurries him to the dock. He feels the Aussie drag and he reassures him with a pat. "Don't worry, you won't get wet. I assure you." 

Taking the mirror gun from his satchel, he points it at the still surface and bubbles create a wide perimeter. "Your bag?" 

Handing it off to him, Digger watches them disappear into the portal. Abruptly, Nygma pulls him into his space, lips dancing over his. “Forgive me for being crude, darling. Though I've waited ever so patiently, I need you inside me.”

Well that quells his fears instantaneously. Boomerang scoops Riddler up with ease, making him squeal in delight as they disappear, the water around them still is before.

“Shit," Mick exhales, "maybe he do got dick game.”

Cold shakes his head. “I refuse to believe that.”

Chapter Text

Once again, the Aussie is gone from the battlefield, no doubt due to his own cowardice. Harley breaks free from the ruckus- and by breaking free, she and a giant metahuman soared into a building where she fell through the ceiling and landed on a billiards table. It takes a few lingering moments for the shapes around her to stop spinning and readjust themselves.

She lifts her heavy head off the wood and groans. "I didn't hit the 8 ball in, did I? S'rry about the leak... I'll call the plumber." She uses her oversized mallet as a cane as she eases down to the floor.

With her vision now intact, she notices a man in monochrome blue sitting at the bar with a beer in his hand. He is squinting up at the ceiling, looking much more confused than the rest of the concerned patrons.

"Yea, yeah, I know the ambiance is ruined- look, I got a great lady you can call. Amanda? Yea, I'll give ya her number. She'll take care of it. Boomer!" She calls to him, making her way over. "Hey! It's time for ya to sober up, hun."

Digger's eyes slowly drift down to her level. Well, down then up to her eyes. "Well, g'day to ya, love. Ain't you a tall glass of water."

Her mind sputters to a halt. "... Uh, are we doing this right now?"

"A bangin' shelia's talkin' ta me, course, we are! Wassyer name, doll?"

Harley blinks a few times. They are well passed this phase- "How much have you drank- what HAVE you drank?! You know who I am, Boomer."

"Nah, love, not every day you see an angel. And call me Captain cuz I'm 'bout to take you on a cruise of a life time."

She purses her lips together but her smile pushes through. "This... would be really cute if the city wasn't being attacked by weird alien freaks- honestly, would prefer this. You trying to flirt is way more fun."

"I'm crackin' onto ya, love, what's else am I doin'?"

"Drinking yourself stupid and not helpin' the squad out?"

"Squad...?" He scrunches his nose and caterpillar brows in thought. "Nah, got no squad. I usually work alone. But for you, I can make an exception."

"Awww, would ya?" She swings her shoulders around. "That's so sweet. How does now sound?"

Astonished, he reels back slightly. With a grin, he hops down off the stool and grips onto the bar to hold himself up. "Shit, sure, I can do now."

"Greaaaaat, gonna need a lotta your boomerangs, boy. Let's hop to it." She snatches him up by the arm and drags his heavy wobbling body out of the bar.

Harkness nearly hits the door on their way out. "Hhhehheh, got some adventurous spirit, love. I dig it. Strength too, not a lot of ladies can handle a big man like me."

"Uh-huh, for sure." She snorts and shakes her head. "You know what you got goin' for ya, Boomie? You're real cute."

"Awww, love, call me Captain! And you're-" Seeing debris flying towards them, Harley hurls Captain Boomerang and uses him as a slingshot to yank them both out of the way- which ends up succeeding by a hair. But with Harley not letting go of Harkness, she collides into him and they both collapse onto the pavement. She knocks the wind out of him, forcing a harsh wheeze out of his lungs.

Grunting, she lifts herself up and quickly assesses Digger's condition. He seems fine. Nothing broken or bleeding. He can get his breath back soon. So, she props her head up with her hands and smirks. "You sober now, Captain?"

Boomerang lets out a pitiful whimper and covers his eyes with his arm. "Shut up, Harl..."

Chapter Text

It was a damned good night. So good that Edward was still in his arms by late morning. Smiling at his peaceful visage, Digger delivers a soft, ghost-like kiss to his cheek.

“You’re such a pretty lil thing, ain’t ya?” He comments quietly. “Didn’t think you’d care so much about me… Crazy, this… Got the Riddler undah my thumb. Cryin’ out me name and e’erythin’. How in the hell am I gonna… it’s gotta be perfect for you.”

How to give the man who thinks he has everything… everything? Digger is not exactly a take over the city type of villain. He doubts he can swipe Gotham under Batman's nose. Even if he had a giant boomerang at his disposal, the city wouldn’t quiver with fear. Riddler has the power to shake buildings until they topple. What does some Aussie have? Despite not having a big stage presence, Edward gives him the time of day. As he has learned yesterday, Nygma is not staying just for the sex. He wants to be closer than that.

Partners. That word may as well be a blanket, cocooning him in pure tranquility.

Riddler is so soft underneath him. His hand traverses over his smooth landscape, his soft malleable hips and up to his slim waist. He feels abs developing on his stomach.

“You look deep in thought. How unusual.” His voice mumbles deeply.

Pretending he did not jump out of his skin, Harkness collects himself. “Just… takin’ you in.”

He feels his face glow warm as Edward chuckles, “How is my Digs this morning…” he glances at the clock, “late morning.”

His heart flutters. “Your Digs?”

“Why yes, who else would you be?” Nygma runs his hair over his blonde locks.

“I’m, uh, I’m good…” He returns with much more hesitance. “How's my Eddy?”

“Sore.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Boomerang teases, stroking his fingers along his waist. “S’not like we were fuckin’ each other all day like the world was endin’ tomorrow… and we got a whole week ta keep goin’...”

“I need a day of rest.” He grumbles, stretching his back.

“Sure, yew can rest. I can do all the hard work, princess. S’what I’m good at.”

Nygma scoffs with a laugh. “Down, Digs.”

“Yer wish is my command–”

“Ah-ah!” Riddler stops him before Boomer could dip under the covers by digging his knee into his side. “Don’t twist my words.”

“Edward…” Digger moans, his voice dropping an octave. He puckers his lips and blinks slow.

Edward turns his head and closes his eyes. “Don’t give me those eyes either. We need to start our routines…”

“Eddy…” He whispers, grinning at the gooseflesh prickling over his lover’s skin. He plants a short series of kisses up his neck and gently bites down on his lobe. Edward releases a small excited huff. Digger swallows his oncoming laughter as he says right into his ear. “Piss in my mouth.”

“Get away from me.” Riddler growls through gritted teeth, pushing on him but Harkness down not let go.

“Nope, yer goin’ nowhere now.”

“George Digger Harkness, if you value your life, you will release me.”

While fear does rap at his door, he holds on. “Auuuww, Eddy, you can do better than that vague threat! We’re partners now, can’t get rid of me.”

“No, but I can leave you tied up to a chair for days with a vibrator pleasuring you but not enough to give you that release.”

“Shit.” Digger exhales after a moment’s pause. “You had that one in the chamber.”

“I have taken time to think of the ways to torture you, darling.”

“... Addin’ a flamin’ darling after that too… Days??”

“It is easy to fool the brain that days have gone by in a windowless chamber.”

Harkness feels his heart drop and yet his arousal builds. He blushes seeing that sly smirk stretch across his thin lips.

“Yeah, you uh, you’re good at torture…” Boomer rolls off of him. “I wouldn't be all by me self, right?”

Pleased, Nygma throws the covers off his naked form and slowly stands with a grunt. “No, I would watch you through a camera.” He winces when he puts his full weight on his feet. Without hesitation, Digger crawls over to him and brings both of his arms around him so that his weight is fully on him instead as they carefully make their way out of the bedroom. “Thank you, dear… Glance every hour or so while I go out. Mostly just to make sure you haven’t escaped. You’re quite the artist.”

Harkness puffs his chest out with pride but that deflates as he thinks more about how Riddler would keep him locked up. He would put an impossible riddle on everything… He coughs in his throat. “And you’d, uh… take pity on poor Digger, yeah?”

“Perhaps I’ll visit you. Talk about how I spent my day. Then I’ll head off to bed.”

“Bed’ll get real lonely without me in it. Remember how you tackled me? Think yer torturin’ yerself too with this, Eddy.”

“Hmmm, you’re right. I’ll continue to workshop it.”

“Uh– wait, that wasn’t– I mean, that’s really hot but you were supposed to feel bad, wait– I’m not gonna wake up one day in a chair, right?”

Riddler throws his head back in a laugh which does nothing to soothe his anxiety or arousal.

A date is a date but it is much too hot even under this massive umbrella. Edward chucks his hat off of his head and presses his face into the cold metal of the patio table. He hates how the chair feels on his back. His entire body may as well be burning up via Firefly’s torch. The music from the ice cream parlor is blaring and yet it is not loud enough to drown out the cacophony of kids, teens, and adults alike who crowd the establishment. One can barely step inside the building and the outside is just as bustling. Usually, Edward is fine with crowds and looking out of place, but he finds himself wondering why did he bother wearing one of his nicer two piece suits?

He hears a soft clack of hard paper meeting metal. Then a big hand touches his shoulder, practically consuming it in his palm. “You doin’ alright, love?”

Ah, Digger, yes. Riddler wanted to look pretty for him. And yet, how can one look pretty if they are drenched in sweat? If he was not wearing waterproof makeup, his entire look would be tainted with sweat. With a grunt, he sits up and instantly sees his cup of two scoops of chocolate chip mint ice cream decorated with cherries, but his cup is somewhat bent in the middle.

“Y-yeah sorry about that, I got bumped into. Hard to balance a cone and not drop yours.”

Edward takes the spoon out of the top scoop and gathers a bite that is a perfect mix of ice cream, the chips and a cherry. “... It’s acceptable.”

He did not need his face to get any warmer but seeing that cute happy smile on Boomerang’s face, his blood betrays him. He is attractive in his attire; a blue hoodie with ripped sleeves and worn out pants.

“Aren’t you hot in that beanie?”

“Eh? Nah, not really. Keeps me head cool.”

“That is not what a beanie does.”

“Ah– see,” He slurps the side of his cone. He has cookie dough that is completely covered in rainbow sprinkles. A childish flavor in his eyes. Harkness is keen on finishing it before the sun melts it. “What it does is keep me hair wet from the sweat, right? And the sweat cools me off. Like ya said uh, it’s our heads that got the most heat, sides from hands and all that.”

“That is… di-sgusting.”

Boomerang shrugs. “S’what hats do.”

“No. Incorrect. Hats keep the sun out of your eyes and lessen heat on your head.”

“Why ain’t ya wearin’ yours then?”

“Because I’m hot. And it’s… a stylish hat, meant for fashion, not…” He sneers and Digger’s pleased expression.

“Makin’ ya sweat, aye?”

“Your ice cream is melting.”

Alarmed, Digger bends his head to lap up the liquid running down his fingers. He is so frantic about it that his nose accumulates a bit of cream as well as on his cheek and beard. Nygma cannot help smiling at Harkness who is creating more of a mess than he is cleaning it up. Of course, he doesn’t use a napkin, that would be too simple minded. His tongue serves as a much more absorbent material to better get between his fingers. With the ice cream now transitioning out of a solid, he wraps his mouth over the top, hollowing his cheeks to suck it into his mouth. A few drops stain the growing stubble on his chin. Digger wipes his tongue over his lips and swallows before going in for another bite, his tongue fully out to lick it first. Edward squishes a maraschino cherry by pressing it up to the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

“You’re getting it all over your face, dear.”

Digger smirks, his sharp teeth showing through his lips. “It’s more fun if it’s on me face.”

Riddler sputters and silently curses at himself for laughing at that stupid joke.

“Yeah, I saw how you were lookin’ at me. Perv.”

“Clean yourself up.” He tosses a napkin at him. “You look foolish.”

“Mmm, don’t wanna get a taste, darl?”

“No, thank you.”

Harkness giggles to himself, wiping the napkin around his face. “Awww, polite about it… Don’t think I can get the rest of it.”

“You should have invested in a bowl like I have.”

“Ehhh, where’s the fun in that?” Digger gets up with his soggy hand and heads over to the trash receptacle.

Edward makes a bet with himself on whether or not the Aussie will ask for a bite of his ice cream now that his is gone. Boomer’s stomach may as well be a bottomless pit. He is always hungry for something, food or not.

Riddler takes the last cherry for himself.

When Harkness returns, he grabs the chair and drags it over to his side of the table. Nygma grumbles in his throat.

Digger jerks his head. “What?? I can’t sit next to you?”

“It’s already hot, Digs. No offense, but I rather not be in close proximity to anyone.”

“Ice cream not helpin’?”

“It’s dropped my internal temperature down a few degrees and yet here I continue to sweat.”

Harkness leans in and smells him with a hum. “I like it.”

“Good lord– why?”

“Smells good.” He stretches his arms out and arches over Edward’s head, placing his hand on the back of his chair. “Tangy. Should wear ya musk more often. Like me!”

Riddler rolls his eyes. “Your musk is an acquired taste and then you add onto it with horrible cologne…”

“Oiiiii! It’s great cologne!”

“It does not smell like it is advertised on the bottle. It is not a roasted chestnut, it is roasted roadkill.”

Boomer shrugs, half smiling. “Played with roadkill as a kid.”

“Unsurprising.”

A few moments of silence lapse between them. “... Can I get a lick?”

Score one for Riddler. “I thought you didn’t like toothpaste ice cream?”

“Well, yea, I don’t… but if you were offerin’.”

“Was I offering?” After a pregnant pause and intense– would be intense eye contact if Digger did not keep shifting his eyes, he does scoop what is mostly melted ice cream. “Choo choo.”

Harkness practically bites down on the spoon.

“Boomer, I barely–!” He breaks into a laugh seeing his scrunched up face as he swallows the liquid. “Now why did you bother?!”

“I dunnooo! Thought it’d be different!”

“How on earth did you think it would be different?”

“Because you like it!”

“That is… very sweet, dear. But now, I suppose I am done with it.”

“We’ve shared saliva before, Ed.”

“I– that was not my reasoning.” He stands up, gathering his trash. “I simply would like to leave.”

The two return to Nygma’s modest one story with the AC on blast throughout the car ride. Digger waddles behind him as Edward hobbles into his abode and towards the bedroom in a near frantic state to remove his wardrobe. He can feel the expensive cloth sticking to the underside of his arms and on his stomach. He did not need to glance behind him to know that Harkness is watching him undress from the doorway. Riddler waits for the inevitable question as he undoes his tie.

“Ey, Eddy?”

“Digs.”

“... Gotta ask ya somethin’.”

Here it comes. “Yessss?”

“What do ya like about me?”

Oh. That is unexpected. He folds his blazer. “Gracious… Well, you’re funny. I find your smile quite attractive. You’re assertive. You don't lie to me too often.”

“Gettin’ better at it.”

“When you fight it’s beautiful, unpredictable… I like your laugh. I think the twinkles in your eyes are endearing. You can be very sweet and thoughtful despite the clumsy prelude. You… give me a type of comfort I have never received before.”

“Wha-whazzat mean?”

“I feel… Oh my word, I’m about to say it…” If Edward looks at Digger now, he will lose momentum. His emotions swell like a sponge in water and he squeezes the vest in his hands. “I think I figured it out. I feel like Edward when I’m around you. Like a part of me has been placed in a puzzle set. It’s strange. For ages, I have long since said goodbye to the old Edward. The one who was continuously ignored and shoved aside to matter where I went. Edward rears his ugly head and you… You accept him completely.”

Digger tilts his head. “Edward and Riddler don’t really sound much different.”

“Edward is the reason why Riddler exists. And yet he won’t stay dead. He writhes and relinquishes himself out from his grave because of you.”

“Yer kinda makin’ it sound like a bad thing?”

“I-I don’t know. I just feel… enamored and confused. I am not used to such feelings– I feel strongly, I know this but why I feel so different around you has been haunting me. I feel like a new person and yet I am the same man I have been for years.”

While Harkness does not completely understand where he is coming from but to him, it sounds like Edward is ecstatic that he found someone who adores him wholly and he is not used to such acceptance. Boomerang smiles as he tries not to laugh. “C’mere, cutie.”

“No–no!” He bats his hands away and backs up. “Don’t tickle me!”

“I ain’t ticklin’ ya! Come ta Digger.” He scoops Riddler into his arms and pecks his neck with his lips. The clothes between them are damp enough from sweat that they might as well be clinging to each other’s naked form. He half expected Edward to pull away and bitch some more about the heat, but he stays in his embrace, his arms loose around his waist.

This only lasts a few extra moments.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He peels off of him and gags in disgust. “I need a cold shower…”

“Need help?” He tugs his shirt.

“Ha! There’s the question I was anticipating!”

“Strewth, do I ask that often?”

“You suddenly love being a big helper when it comes to stripping me naked.”

“Mean… Why wouldn’t I wanna help with that?”

“When it isn’t over a hundred degrees, you can.”

Digger has interesting quirks. No, not him neglecting to bathe. Nor him struggling to clean. Nor his vain attempts at hygiene. Boomer has gotten better at each of these due to Edward’s judgmental leers. No, these quirks are uncategorized. When Harkness grabs a fork, he always twirls it around his fingers. He has a very specific way of styling his hair. He always eats the meat first in a meal. If he finds a loose stone on the ground, conversation stops until he punts it into a tree. Steps on every fallen leaf and frowns when there isn't a crunch. And good lord, is he clingy, following behind Edward like a second shadow. Perhaps he is further along on the spectrum than Nygma originally gave him credit for. Ever since that camping trip, Digger has steadily grown more affectionate, even in public.

This is a good change. A wonderful change. Hopefully, the Aussie continues his steps towards comfortability. Riddler will find ways to encourage it... An opportunity may be spurring right now, actually. With the heat being ludicrous throughout this week, Edward is like a worn out squirrel on the hot sidewalk. He lays passively on the couch with a cold rag on his eyes and two fans blowing on his body. Harkness, of course, is the only functional human being in the house. So, he does chores again. He doesn't do them well, definitely not to The Riddler's standards. However, being out of commission, he will accept his best - which is the bare minimum with clumsy mistakes. The only time Edward needs to keep an eye on him is when Boomerang is using the stove and or oven and when he does laundry.

Which is right now. He hears the dryer sound. Boomerang grunts as he stands and makes his way over to the laundry closet. 

And there it is. The humming, tuneless as it was what is almost a month ago. Riddler opens his eyes and gradually removes the cloth. From his spot on the couch, he has a clear shot to his bedroom. Digger is standing in the middle of the hall, moving the dry clothes into the hamper.

"Want me to fold'em, Ed?"

"Just fold them and place them on the edge of the bed, I'll deal with them later."

"A'ight."

The way Digger walks is top heavy and his legs move as an afterthought, each foot coming down with a thud. He dumps the clothes onto the bed all haphazard, which causes mild irritation to Edward. He does not sort anything. He does not put specific clothes into specific piles, nor even by color. He is not trying to get the chore done as fast as possible. It is simply how he does anything. Disorganized and chaotic. He does not desire to be helpful but he is willing to be of service, with or without a reward.

At times, simply being with Edward is enough of a reward for him, holding him, caressing him. Even a little kiss on the cheek is enough. Digger is a simple man.

And there he hums once more. Leisurely, Riddler rises from the couch and positions the rag onto the back of his neck. He approaches the Aussie quietly. Nygma circles wide around him and comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his frame. His humming unfortunately halts but Boomer greets him sweetly. "Hey, love. You doin' any better?"

Edward places a chaste kiss on his cheek. “You're humming again, dear.”

His chest hitches. “I was?”

“Mmmhm, I have deduced each instance of when you hum and it seems to be when you’re in a particularly good mood. Now, I shall ask you this. Is it I who makes you this happy?”

“Well… yew are an angel, Eddy.”

“I-I am most assuredly not an angel, Digs. What angel mopes around due to the heat?”

Boomer snickers, “Yer my angel. You’re bloody perfect.”

His eyes grow in size. “You’re putting me on quite the pedestal... Do you consider yourself below me?”

Harkness stops folding and shrugs. “Ain’t like I’m as smart as yew. Don’t mind bein’ lower, can treat’ me like a toy n’ all that. Being objectified’s hot.”

“Look at me."

"Ah, strewth." He playfully sighs but he turns around to face him. "You gonna psychoanalyze me now?"

"I am not Quinn, however..." Riddler cups his face and looks into his big dissimilar pupils. "You, Digger Harkness, are not lesser. When it comes down to it… you are a wonderful man worthy of love. And if anyone disrespects you, they will live to regret it.”

“Told ya, aye?” He says smiling. “You are me angel. Sweet one too.”

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Edward shoves him onto the bed and Boomer's giggling squeal is quickly cut off by a moan and a “Eddy!”

Chapter Text

Alright, sure, yeah, only one day till his birthday and Digger has not seen anything out of the ordinary. No weird behavior out of his mates, his squad told him they were busy this week. Nothing even from Edward. It is not like they don’t mention his birthday; they do. He got an early Happy Birthday from Harley, because that is just who she is. She is going to send another message the morning of followed by a shitton of emojis. The Rogues have asked what he would like to do, which is… boring. Harkness wanted a surprise or something spectacular that everyone was trying to hide from him. One cannot fault him for looking a little glum. Well, he isn’t going to ask for it. That would just ruin the fun if he asked. No surprise in that.

Maybe, Riddler is doing something– he is usually pretty good about keeping secrets… sometimes. His ego will always be his downfall.

But nothing, no riddles, no hints… Actually, he has not texted him at all today– well, he did say yesterday that he was doing a heist on a museum.

Digger wonders how concerned he should be that he hasn’t replied since yesterday… He is possibly just hiding to make sure the Bat does not find him since gadgets and whatever.

A heist a day before his birthday. Maybe Riddler is getting him some fancy smancy? Still, Harkness felt lonely.

So Digger sits in the den with the rest of the Rogues, not watching the game that is currently on the TV. He did not care much for baseball. No one notices his silence, too engrossed in the Guardians. It does not matter what the score was, Cold always paces whether they’re winning or losing. Everyone else is smacking on BBQ. Digger does not feel obligated to partake. In all honesty, he wants to go to bed...

Then his phone rings, making him jump. He fishes it out of his pocket. Huh, the caller ID reads spam but he recognizes the area code: it’s Gotham. No one on the squad has talked to him in a bit. Maybe today they’re branching out? It has to be either Shark or Floyd… Can’t be Floyd.

He answers anyway, “Ello?”

There is mild static and a voice crackles through it. “Digs?”

Boomerang jerks upright. “Eddy?! What are ya doin’ callin’ me on a spam numba?”

“Well, I–" He sounds breathless. Harkness feels his heart pound in his ears and his stomach twist. "I hate to inform you like this but I am calling from Arkham Asylum.”

Instantly, the Aussie jumps onto his feet. “Whaddya mean yer in arkham?! I didn’t hear anythin’ from the news? No one told me shit!”

“Darling listen-” His words fall on dear ears.

“I'm gettin ya outta there, Eddy! You hang tight–”

As he gets close to the hallway towards his room, Edward suddenly shouts, “George Digger Harkness, you listen to me!”

He stumbles, grabbing the wall. “... Listening.”

“I’m going to get out soon. I don’t think it will be possible tonight but we shall see. I’m calling you because I need you to do something for me.”

“Anythin’.”

“There is an item in my house that I need you to grab today. It is urgent. It already has an address on it, go there and drop it off. Do not go against my word. Do not come here to bust me out. I can manage on my own. Understand?”

"But, but..." Digger sighs in defeat, leaning into the wall. “Yeah, yeah I gotcha. Don't stay in there too long, alright? Need ya outta prison.”

“I don't particularly plan on an extended stay, don't you fret. I’ll be out before you know it.”

“You better be…” He quickly changes topics before the chance for tears to catch up to him, “say, uh, Eddy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Whatcha wearin’?”

“Harkness!" Snart snaps angrily, "Not in here!” 

“I…" Riddler clears his throat. Digger hears a secondary voice but he cannot make it out. "I don't have time to play that game with you, Digs. I have to go.”

Pouting, he slumps more. “Fiiiiine fine… You take care, Ed.”

“You too, don't forget the parcel, yes?”

“Right, got the address on it. Urgent. I remember.”

“Very good. Buh-bye.”

“Yeah, bye, Eddy. Love ya.” He pockets his phone and rushes to his room. What does he need? It's just a package… He needs his boots. Right, gauntlet that would speed things along, especially at this time of night. With those equipped, Boomerang makes his way back to the living room to see… that the baseball game is no longer the primary focus. It’s him. He stops, glancing at everyone. “What?”

“Boomer…” Lisa starts with a small smile. “You just told Edward you loved him.”

His heart may as well fall out of his ass. “I gotta call him back somehow– Oh shit, oh–”

Sam springs up and grabs the panicking Australian. “Hey, hey, hey, chill, chill, chill. Digger, look at me. I swear to God, do not backpedal this. That is probably the best thing he has heard today.”

“But– but it isn’t– it shouldn’t have been so flamin’ casual! I was gonna take him out somewhere! Get him a flower or somethin’! God, over the phone?!" He throws his head back in frustration. "What am I doin'!”

“Dude, relax! You can tell him how you wanted that to go but I think you’ll just hurt him more if you deny what you said.”

“Shit, shit shit… I can try an’ make up for it! Yea…! I’ll get those flowers… Shit, what were his favorites again? It started with a d….”

“Don't you have something urgent with an address?” Cold asks deadpanned, his eyes glued once more to the screen.

“Crikey! I should do that first!” He hurries towards the front door.

“Wait! Aren't you forgetting something?” Mirror calls out.

Digger stops again. “Eh? Oh, shit me gauntlet– Wait, I’ve got that.”

“No, Boom, you want my mirror gun?”

“Fair dinkum? That’d be ripper, Sam.” Already out of breath, he pats Sam on the back as he heads back towards the hallway. “Ta.”

Digger carefully crawls out of the mirror of Edward’s dark bathroom. Already, something hefty has clattered onto the floor.

“Bugger… Sorry, love.” He eases his feet across the countertop and onto the floor. After fumbling for the light, he turns it on and sees a hair dryer on the floor. Giving it a once over in his hand, he spots a scratch. “Auhhh... Eddy’s gonna have a talkin’ to me when he gets out... Put it... there-yeah, it was already there. Euhh, where’s that package?”

He checks the bedroom first but sees nothing out of place. He flips the lights on for the living room and spots a small brown box. From here, it does not look like there is a note on it. “Said the address is on it, right?”

When he picks it up and flips it around for any sign of writing, suddenly gas excretes from the parcel. Its sharp stench sends a shock through his system and he sputters and coughs. Despite using his speed gauntlet to book it to the door, darkness grabs him fast and he faceplants into the wall, sliding down like a limb doll.

His head pounds when he wakes up. Harsh lights blind him the moment he peers through his lids. Covering his eyes with his arms, he takes a few more moments to collect himself before sitting up. While he doesn’t feel ill, he is extremely lethargic. How long was he out?

What even… He used the gun to get to Riddler’s house… the box.

“Welcome to The Riddle Factory!” Edward’s voice suddenly booms over loudspeakers. Digger does not want to think about the noise that came out of his mouth. Sobered up, he hobbles onto his feet and finally looks around. He is on a bright purple and green stage. There are four podiums, one farther from the others and facing at an angle. The lights are so bright that he cannot see into the darkness behind them. Nygma’s voice continues, “However, we will be going nonlethal this time. Not my style per say, however, keeping our contestants alive here will be more beneficial than them dead. Please welcome to the stage, our birthday boy, Captain Boomerang!”

“Eddy?! Where are ya!”

“Stick and stones may break reflections but he comes out unscathed, it’s Mirror Master!”

Out of the green curtains next to a screen, Sam jumps out and poses as if they are on a film set.

“Sammy!” He nearly trips on the lifted platform. Scudder runs over and helps him steady himself all the while Boomerang shakes him. “What is bloody goin’ on?!”

“You’ll see!” He laughs, clapping his shoulder. “You’ll see, man.”

"What?!"

Nygma's announcement vibrates through the room. “Last but not least, he may be cold as ice but he is never willing to sacrifice, it’s Captain Cold!”

Leonard steps out, batting the curtains off of him. Digger sputters in disbelief. “Snart?! How did Edward–?!”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And your host,” A puff of smoke happens over the podium and Edward steps out of it, his four piece suit sparking in the spotlights. “The Riddler! And yes, I have been here this whole time.”

“Eddy!” With wobbling legs, Boomer rushes over and embraces him. “Yer outta Arkham!”

Riddler meets his vigorous energy with his own, clinging onto him tightly and allowing himself to swayed back and forth on each foot. “My apologies. I had to lie to you, dear. It was the only way to get you to cooperate without suspicion, I’m afraid.”

“Wait…" Digger pulls away to look at his mates. "All you blokes were in on it?!”

“Surpriiiiiise!” Sam opens his arms. “Happy birthday!”

“We were keeping this from you for a while." Cold explains with a ghost of a smile. "A lot of it was Edward’s ideas that I made him change.”

“Just a few tweaks.”

“Reworks.”

“... Mmhm.” Edward hums, his lips tight.

“You both worked together cuz of me?” 

Placing a hand on his cheek, Nygma traces his thumb over his cheek. “Knowing what life has given you, all of us wanted to chip in and give you a wonderful birthday. You deserve it, dear.”

He was dreaming. He had to be. All of this is too good to be true. Trembling, Harkness cups his face and steps into him. “Eddy, I love y–”

“Darling!” His voice quivers in excitement, pushing him back keep distance. He swallows before speaking, “Save that for later, but know that I feel the same for you… immensely.” Edward pulls out a hankey from his pocket and hands it to him. “Don’t cry yet, sweet. To your podium, please.”

Taking in a big breath, Digger wipes his face and hurries over to the stage.

"You good, man?" Scudder asks, lowering his voice. Boomerang nods frantically, blinking owlishly to keep the tears from falling.

“Once again, welcome to The Riddle Factory!" Riddler continues, addressing a possible camera with his flurry of poses. "And that’s right, we are playing by different rules here. Players, do you all know how to play?”

“I–I don’t even know what the game is.” Digger blinks, another thought dawning on him. “Wait, they’re already in on this! Do they know?! That ain’t fair, Ed!”

“Already calling the game unfair.” Lisa scrunches the stamp down on her bingo board.

“Dammit, you already have three and the game hasn’t even started yet!” Mick sighs. “I knew I should’ve picked the Boomer ‘stead of Cold.”

“Sam’s already fidgeting.” Marco locks in his space.

Rory yells and shakes the table in amiable frustration.

(Boomer, Cold and Mirror respectfully)

Riddler carries on with a flamboyant flourish. “We are going to play a game reminiscent of Simon says, but instead of Simon, it will be Riddler.”

“What a surprise.” Cold states not very quietly.

His smile twitches. “Is there something you would like to say, Snart?”

“Nope. I said enough.”

“Careful, Cold.” Sam warns with a concerned smile.

“Mmm. For this section of the game, points will already be on the board ten for each.” Three dings chime off. Curiously, Digger looks around before leaning over his podium to see a digital number above his name. “Riddler says: touch your toes.”

“Ah, fuck, I haven’t stretched…” Digger bows, putting all of his weight into his right foot while picking up the other but overall successfully touching his shoe.

Sam, smartly, picks up his leg and touches his toes. While Len lifts his leg towards his back and grabs his foot from there.

Edward nods. “Very different approaches from each of you. You all keep your points.”

“Was I the only one that bent down? I shouldn’t done that, I'm dizzy now. How long was I out?”

“The entire night- although you did slam your head pretty hard into the door. I had someone check you for a concussion. You are very hard headed.”

“You good, man?” Cold offers, leaning over to look at him.

“I’m good, I’m great." He rocks on the balls of his feet. "Could wrestle a croc right now.”

“Riddler says; tongue to your nose… I see the alarm across two faces while Digger is attempting to mine gold. I will accept your tongue stretching across your philtrum if your nose is not possible.”

Cold narrows his eyes. “My what now?”

“The space between your mouth and nose.”

“I think he’s making that up.” Sam half-whispers, cracking up the other two rogues.

“Watching the rest of you struggle is good enough. Riddler says; strike a pose.” Digger bends his knees and hits a deep dab. Sam grabs his leg again and arches his arm behind him for balance. Cold simply puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest.  “Riddler says; stay still.” From his podium, he withdraws a feather.

“Shit…”

“Statues don’t speak, Digger.”

Harkness folds his lips into his mouth. Being unable to see what is happening from this angle combined with forced silence sends waves of anxiety throughout his body. Whatever Riddler is doing, Cold is taking it like a champ. He can hear Nygma walk over to Mirror Master. Soon, there is a hiss and a thud followed by a defeated cuss. His heart beat is pulsing inside his brain now. He holds his breath. He has endured much worse than this. He has been shot at, stabbed-the feather lightly touches his neck and Boomerang immediately folds with a cry.

“I am so sorry but that’s a point away from the two of you.”

His knee pops as he stands up. “Nhff, Sam, you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

"Riddler says you may now return to normal, Snart."

“Calm down, it was one point.” Cold scoffs, shaking his head.

“YOU SHOULD’VE SNEEZED!”

“Riddle says: touch your head.” Digger and Sam's hands quickly fly to their noggins. “I said riddle not Riddler, that’s another point.”

Harkness stomps his foot. “Don’t you want me to win, Eddy!”

“I do!" He says with a wide smile, clearly he is enjoying himself. "This is simply user error, darling.”

“You need to trip up, Snart, that’s what you gotta do.”

“I have plans for each of you, do not worry.”

Sam leans over to Cold. “Didn’t like that.”

“Nope.” 

“Since the birthday boy is getting a bit blood thirsty, let us give him what he wants. Cold, Riddler says; be a statue once more, no posing required… Sam, Digs. Riddle says; make him laugh.”

Digger jump starts before frantically stopping while Sam freezes.

“Well done. Riddler says: make Cold laugh without touching him.”

“Dammit, I was gonna…” Boomerang hops to the other side of him and starts making various comical noises combined with stretching his cheeks with his hands.

“We are going for the ‘entertaining a toddler’ approach, I see.” Edward commentates.

Sam bobs his head before coming up with an idea. “Hey! Do you remember that orchestra from the Titanic? I heard that they had a COLD reception at their last performance.”

Digger gives him a look. “Yea cuz they all died, Sam.”

Edward's brows raise. “Oh? Was that a quivering lip from Snart?”

Cold does not even shift his eyes to glare at the Riddler, remaining completely still. Harkness leans in and makes slurping noises into his ear while Sam raises his voice singing an offkey rendition of I'm a little teapot.

“As fun as this is," Nygma shouts over the awful noises, "you two have one more attempt.” 

Crossing his legs, Harkness puts his weight into his arm leaning on the podium. “... So you and Mick are fuckin’ right?”

Cold’s eyes cut over to him.

Sam gives him an exasperated look. “Digs, why… how is that going to make him laugh?”

“I’m desperate for a reaction at this point. Can’t give him a wet willy, now can I?”

“I’m so sorry but neither of you succeeded. That is points from each of you again, bringing you to 7. Sam and Boomie, you may return to your podiums…”

“Stop!" Len shouts, "He didn't say his signal phrase.”

Sam takes a long back step and Boomer stands with his legs apart, eyes big.

“That is a point away from Cold for speaking.”

“You bastard, tryna be a hero.”

“I didn't want to hear you whine again. And yet here you are, whining.”

Digger sticks his tongue out at him.

“Riddler says return to your podiums.”

“Eddy, how do we earn points?" Boomerang drums his hands into the stand. "Do I need ta flatter you?”

“If the birthday boy wishes, Riddler says compliment me, starting with you, Digs.”

Grinning with excitement, Digger approaches the host and puts his arm around him. From behind, he can hear Cold groaning in dismay. His chest contracts, feeling all of the sudden exposed. He pushes through. “Hey, doll, lookin’ real spunky up here.”

His eyes light up. “Thank you. Are you Ken?”

“Wha…? Oh! Mean, I can be. Wanna go for a ride?”

“Later, dear.”

May as well go for gold.

“You know what else I like aboutcha, Ed?”

“You already gave him a compliment!” Sam chastises loudly.

“ShhhhhHHHHHHH…! He didn't Riddler says to stop yet.” Turning back to Edward, he dips and tilts his head. “You got some of the prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Like a, ah, pool of chocolate. Would swim in it if I could.”

“Barf.” Snart comments.

“Most people with brown eyes are not normally complimented on. So, I do appreciate that one. You get a point, dear.”

“I can give ya a few more.” He says licking his teeth. “Go on about how brilliant you are.”

“It… is not my birthday. Riddler says; back to your podium, you are back up to 8 points.”

“I’m fine with losin’ that point…”

“Nope, noooo nope, you’re done." Digger struggles against Cold's grasp as he is dragged away. "Get over here.”

"Bloody killjoy!" He finally relinquishes himself from his hold and huffs his way back to his side.

“Edward, how you look at Boomer is...” Sam grits his teeth, trying to find a word that won't get him vaporized. “... so weird.”

“I recommend looking away then.” He snips, without missing a beat. “Riddler says, Samuel, compliment me without repeating what a fellow player has said.”

“Uhhh, youuuu… have a great smile.”

“I do have a great smile, thank you. One point for you. Cold, compliment me.”

Snart crosses his arms.

“Riddler says, compliment me, Snart.”

He sucks on his teeth, puckering his lips.

“I did use my phrase that time.”

“Oh, I heard.”

"I'll go again for him, if ya want." Digger offers with a wink.

Ignoring him, Riddler moves on, “Well fine, 8s across the board. If you won’t compliment me. Riddler says: compliment your fellow Rogue with Sam going first.”

Sam turns towards Digger, who immediately looks behind him. “Is Lisa in the dark back there?”

Caught off guard, Mirror snorts and snickers before continuing, “Boomer, you have such a bright and unique personality and the things you say are so… aggressively you and in it’s own way very endearing. You often bring me out of tough spots just by being yourself.”

Boomerang pouts, his brows knitted. “Shit, yer goin’ for real compliments, thought you were gonna say somethin’ ‘bout me hair or...”

“Cold, compliment your fellow Rogue.”

Snart does not speak.

“Riddler says: compliment your fellow Rogue.”

Harkness looks once more to the vast darkness, “Where the hell is Lisa?”

“Harkness, you’re quick on the draw. You don’t hesitate. What you bring to the table is something the other Rogues would never be able to accomplish, ideas that are so… not impossible but so abnormal that under the right conditions it would work and they have, surprisingly, worked out well! You’re not just a guy with a boomerang. Not in my eyes.”

His eyes are watering. “That true, Snart? You didn’t rehearse that? Got a script somewhere?”

“That was off the top of my head.”

Edward's smile grows soft. “Digger.”

Sniffling, he returns the compliments. “You got nice hair, Sam. And you're not as much as a bastard as you could be, Cold.” The two snicker.

“Not what I was going to ask of you, dear. But don't worry, you keep your points. Riddler says; accept the compliments.”

“What is happening…?” He rubs his nose. “Um… thanks? Got a real big head now. Cold likes my ideas. Eat shit, Mick.”

Sam snorts into a laugh and slaps Boomer's arm.

“Riddler says; don’t flinch.”

An air horn sounds and all of them except Cold jumps.

“You’re a bastard!” Harkness shouts at Nygma who dances giddily around his podium, cackling.

“That’s another point away from Sam and Dig–”

“Sam, we need to kill Snart.”

Snart recoils, raising his hands. “Jesus, that’s a jump.”

“You said you liked my ideas!”

“Why would I like the idea of you murdering me?!”

“I’m down ta six!!”

“And I do apologize for that. That was rather rude of me. Riddler says: give the birthday boy a hug.”

Digger does not mind Sam's hugs, rivalry has brought them closer together as mates. His embrace is wrapped in affection and Sam gives him a few pats on his back before letting go. Len offers his hand first. Harkness smirks, snatches and pulls on his hand before trapping his boss in his arms. Although Snart huffs, he returns the hug.

“Rizzler says, think fast.”

Sam pauses. “Did he say rizzler? AH!”

fwump fwump fwump from the darkness above, three brightly colored bombs fall beside them, red lights blinking on each of them.

“Those look like one of Tricksters." Snart whips his head to look at Riddler. "Nygma, I swear if this is slime…”

“As if I would allow him to tarnish my set!”

“He’s not a good listener.”

“And I find it cute that you’d think I'd let him walk over me without proper punishment.”

“They’ll blinking do we–-" Sam backpedals even as he asks, "can we move?!”

“I didn't say you could. How much each of you individually trust me?”

Upon hearing the beeping accelerate in speed, Mirror Master bolts off of the platform followed by Snart. Boomer stays in the middle and looks at Riddler. Despite his body telling him to run, he does not move.

Edward gives him a warm expression, eyes and voice soft. “Do you trust me, Digger?”

“‘Course I do.”

“You’re so sweet.” With that, the bombs explode into confetti and Nygma transitions into his announcer voice. “And that signifies our next round! Boomer and Cold are tied with seven points and Mirror Master has six. We now move onto the trivia portion of the game in the style of my favorite game show: Jeopardy. Please take out your buzzers from inside the podium.”

“Riddler says?” Sam asks curiously.

“Riddler says take your buzzers out. Very well done, Samuel. Riddler says, Riddler says is over and Riddler says will no longer be in play.”

Cold squints. “That was three times. Did those two other Riddlers cancel each other out?”

“My head hurts.” Digger whines.

“Let’s just get started, shall we? This rogue was once a professor of Psychology at a university before getting fired; he had a certain fascination with a certain emotion.”

Cold buzzes in. “What is Scarecrow?”

“Correct, bonus point if you say his government name.”

“No idea.”

Sam timidly buzzes. “Can I…?”

“Go ahead!”

“John…?”

“I’m looking for a full name.”

“John… Crow.”

“An educated guess but no, I’m sorry. In this rogue’s premiere, he solely targeted the GCPD’s ‘crooked cops’... No guesses? Oh, A hesitant buzz from Snart.”

“What is... Penguin?”

“Close but no cigar. Perhaps this one was a little too–” Boomer slaps his buzzer. “Digs?”

“That uh, that pig guy– What is that pig guy? What’s that bastard’s name?”

Riddler withholds his laugh. “I’m afraid I’ll need something better than pig guy.”

“He wears a pig mask! He’s a bloody freak, like proper insane. He’s like a doctor or something. I think he eats people? Just… psycho.”

“... As the birthday boy, I am going to give it to you. I was looking for Professor Pyg.”

“See! Pig!”

“When you touch this rogue, that body part becomes ice cold... An uncertain buzz-in from Samuel.”

“Who is Mr. Freeze?”

“Nooo, sorry. Digs?”

“That ghost bastard. With the top hat and shit.”

“I. I need a name…”

“But I’m the birthday boy.”

Cold shakes his head. “See, you can’t give him an edge like that, he’s going to keep taking.”

“I’m looking for a name this time, dear.”

“I stand by my answer. Yer gonna give me the point anyway, Ed. You want me to win.”

“Mmmhm. You forget that I prefer to play my games fairly.” Snart scoffs with a curt ha. “Gentleman Ghost is who I was looking for.”

“See! Ghost bastard!”

“This billionaire businessman was once the president of the United States. Ohhh, two buzz ins. I think that was Cold who was faster.”

“Who is Lex Luthor.”

“Correct! What’s his full name?”

“That bloke’s got a full name?" Digger gapes. "I thought it was just Lex?”

“Alexander Luthor.”

“No middle name but I’ll take it. This rogue’s powers are finicky and can only be activated if she intakes blood.”

Sam buzzes. “Who is Cheetah.”

“It is Cheetah! Do you know her name?”

“Baaaaarbaraaaa… Uhhhhhhhh…”

“Anyone want to steal? No? Alright... Born in Hawaii, he was taken from his home– Boomer?”

“King Sh– Who is King Shark?”

“Correct! You know him by what he often repeats if his assassination skills are called into question. Cold?”

“Who is Deathstroke?”

“Nooo, unfortunately. I am not talking about Deathstroke. Digs?”

“Flamin’ Deadshot! World’s greatest dipshit s’what I call him. Uhhh Floyd Lawton!”

“Very good, darling. Last. Question. She is often referenced to as the clown girl– Yes, Boomer.”

“Harley Quinn! Who’s Harley!”

“I think youse should be askin’ where’s Harley Quinn~!” The curtains to the right of Edward opens with a flourish revealing King Shark, Deadshot, and Harley Quinn, who immediately does a cartwheel into the open floor. “She’s riiiiiight here, babayyyy!”

Jaw on the floor, his hands fly to his head in pure shock. It takes only one moment for him to rush over to them. Harley meets him halfway and captures him in a bear hug. Shark bends down and lifts both of them into a near spine cracking hug. Awkwardly, Floyd pats Digger's arm while he is still up there. “Happy birthday, Boomer.”

“It is so very good to see you again, Boomerang." Shark carefully places them down. "Happy day of your birthing!”

“Happy birthday, babe." Quinn squeezes him, rocking him from side to side. "I leave ya for a second and you’re datin’ Eddy, huh? What’s up with that!”

When she pulls away, Digger hides his face in his hands as a sob is wrenched out of him. He can feel the tension in the room shift drastically. He doesn't need to look to know he is being gawked at but he cannot will himself to stop crying. He has never felt this happy in his life. “Boomerang, you are leaking!” Shark puts a reassuring hand on his back. "Are you alright?"

“You all said you were busy–!”

“Well, when the Riddler threatens blackmail, you have a change in plans” Floyd quickly blocks Harley's incoming punch but she hits him again, landing on her mark.

“ANYWAY, the rest of us lied to you, Boomer! We all had to keep this a secret. But now we’re all gonna help ya win! Let's get those points outta Eddy's grubby hands!"

Chapter Text

Thunder roars above their shelter. The pouring rain cools the oppressive heat that Marco loathes. He inhales the scent of the fresh drops of dew and wet grass. It doesn't matter where he is, be it under the awning of a grocery with a grumpy Australian; weather like this soothes his mind.

“You’re Weather Wizard, you do remember that, right, mate?” Digger asks him, clutching two bags of groceries in each hand. “Can’t’cha do away with this?”

Marco only opens his eyes to give him a disapproving glance. “I prefer rain over sunshine.”

“Course ya blood do. Gonna have Cold yell at ya for not bringin’ the perishables in sooner.”

“I don’t care right now.”

“Figured.” Boomerang plops the bags down. “I’m findin’ me an umbrella.” And he stomps back into the supermarket.

Without hesitation, Mardon steps out into the downpour and lifts his head. Feeling the droplets cool his face and run down his neck releases a heap of dopamine into his system. He breaks into a smile and uses his feet to splash the pooling water before him. Pure joy washes over him, seeing a much bigger puddle nearby. He wastes no time jumping in, spinning around, kicking it–

He stops when he sees Captain Boomerang, gawking at him from the side.

His eyes big and his lips creep up into an adoring smile. “Crikey, don’t think I’ve ever seen ya actin’ like this, gigglin’ and all– real cute...”

“Cute? That’s a new one.” Marco holds his hands out towards him. “Join me.”

“Ehhh, I don’t wanna get wet, Marco. Why do ya think I stole this?” He moves the umbrella over his hand. "Don'tcha wanna get under here? Ya gonna catch cold."

“Orrrr, you can be out here with me. Just for one minute? Thirty seconds?”

"... Make it pretty hard to say no to that face." Digger tosses the umbrella down and stands with Wizard, timidly taking his hand.

"Doesn't this feel good?"

"Feels wet. My hat's gonna get glued to me head. Gonna take ages for it to dry."

"Oh no..." Marco moans in mock pity.

Harkness punches his shoulder. "Try wearin' a hat, mate, you'll get it." He gets in his personal space. "Should try somethin', actually."

"And what is the something?"

"You know those chick flicks Sam likes? They're always kissin' in the rain."

Wizard fights back a smile but it is already on his face. "You want to kiss me? Right now?"

Digger does a quick glance around. "Not like anyone's 'ere ooglin' at us. Mean, it's up to you."

Highly amused, Marco turns to fully face him and leans forward slightly.

"Ah, strewth..." He cusses under his breath. Once again, he looks around much more meticulously this time. Unsure of himself now, Digger lowers down and pecks him on the lips.

"That's not accurate to the movies, Digger." 

Marco pulls his head in for a much deeper kiss. Tilting his head to the side, he presses into his chest. Without much further coaxing, Harkness gathers him into his arms and dramatically dips him, making him shout into his mouth.

"Howzat for movies, aye?" He clicks his tongue and winks at him before twirling him back onto his feet. "Hope yer happy, mate. I'm gonna get sick cuz I'm soaked."

"It was your idea! And you'll live." He chuckles, smiling wide.

Chapter Text

John was expecting some pillow talk when Digger finally roused from his sleep. Harkness hooks his leg and arm over his waist and nestles his nose into his neck with a feeble whine. The occultist smiles to himself and pecks his cheek.

“You even up, love?” He asks curiously. “Or are we still asleep?”

Boomerang groans in his throat as a reply.

“Need some help waking up?” Constantine slithers his hand down his nude back and under the blanket covering his rear.

With a short moan, his green eyes blink open. He sniffles and shifts to stretch his neck. “Mornin’...”

“Afternoon.”

“Wha’ever…” He mumbles, crawling on top of the Scouser. Perched on his lap, his hands roam over his belly up to his chest and feel over his arms until their hands are clasped together.

John smiles, mischief behind his gaze. “Lookin’ good up there, Digs.”

Boomerang hums, sleep still present on his face. Here it comes... “Why don’tcha have a wand?”

He raises a brow, “Ohhh, who says I don’t?”

“Not talkin’ euphemisms, mate.”

“Uh, then I don’t follow?”

“Weather Wizard’s got a wand. Never seen ya use yours.”

“I don’t need a stick to do magic.”

“Then wot?”

“You’ve never been this curious about what I do.” He looks to Digger for an answer in which he gives none, so he continues, “Alright, ah, I do a bit of everything, spells, sigils… Wands are a bit primitive if you ask me. Castin’ a spell with a flick of some twig? I can scratch my ass and do the same thing.”

“Can anyone do it?”

John does not like where this question can lead. “Magic requires sacrifice.” He says bluntly, his lips a firm line across his face. “You take from it, it takes right back.”

Digger has never been efficient at, well, most things that are not boomerangs. There has always been an intense uncertainty between them, of how long they would last, if Harkness will have much longer to live after each encounter with the occultist. John does not have much hope in him. Without offering these words, Digger seems to understand that.

He bends down and kisses him sweetly. “How about I haunt ya when I’m a ghost, aye?” Is his attempt to comfort him.

Constantine did not expect himself to laugh at that promise. And it is a promise. Boomer is well acquainted with his brushes with death. Honestly, Harkness has never looked more serious.

Swallowing the rest of his laughter, John grabs him and shoves him onto his back. “When that happens, I’ll find you, love. That I promise.”

"You bloody better, I ain't good with directions."

John snorts and gathers the Aussie in his arms, tickling him with his stumble as he dips down to kiss his neck.

Chapter Text

“Our next round coming in hot issss:” The lights spiral and move as the screen lights up beside Riddler flashing various greens before finally forming a question mark. “Solving my riddles! This will be a lightning round.”

“Ohhhh, that’s why you got me a team. Cuz I’m bad at it.”

“He don’t got a lotta faith in ya.” Harley elbows him.

“Nah, you should see the looks he gives me– not that one! He gets so bloody angry at me.”

Nygma grins, all giddy. “What has a head, a tail, is brown, and has no legs?”

Cold buzzes in. “A penny.” Ding!

“I have no mouth, so I cannot lie. I see the truth, without the use of eyes. If you feel ready, then think carefully: What is it you see when you look at me?”

Sam slaps the button and the console is knocked off balance. “My– AH!” Quickly, he catches it before hitting the ground. He cradles it to his chest and lets out a shaky sigh. “It-it’s a reflection!”

“Great catch, my word! Please, be careful with those, they are expensive. Are you alright?” Edward tries not to break into a laugh at Scudder slouching over his podium.

Cold leans over and pats his shoulder. Mirror fans himself. “My heart rate’s up but I’m good.”

“A man was found murdered on Sunday morning. His wife immediately called the police. The police questioned the wife and staff and got their alibi. The wife said she was sleeping. The cook was cooking breakfast. The gardener was picking vegetables. The maid was getting the mail. The butler was cleaning the closet. The police instantly arrested the murderer. Who did it and how did they know?”

Shark nearly knocks Boomerang off his feet as he pushes his arm through to press the button. “There is no mail on Sunday. So it is the maid.”

“Very astute, my aquatic friend. A point for you. You live in a one story house made entirely of redwood. What color would the stairs be?”

“What?” Digger tilts his head. “It’s one bloody story, there's no stairs!”

“You moron.” Deadshot hisses.

Edward sucks air through his teeth. “Darling, I’m so sorry, but you didn’t buzz in.”

Harkness takes on a pathetic expression, blinking, “But I’m the birthda–”

“You can’t use that excuse for everything!” Cold chastises.

“Why can’t I?!”

Riddler, quickly, moves on. “A boy was at a carnival and went to a booth where a man said to the boy, "If I write your exact weight on this piece of paper then you have to give me $50, but if I cannot, I will pay you $50." The boy looked around and saw no scale so he agreed, thinking no matter what the carny writes he'll just say he weighs more or less. In the end, the boy ended up paying the man $50. How did the man win the bet?”

Silence befalls the participants but Boomerang is the only one that is not conversing with his group. He takes a glance at Edward who raises his eyebrows at him in curiosity. Do you know? He mouths.

Digger hits his buzzer. “He wrote the words: your exact weight.”

Edward nods, seemingly impressed. “Well done, my love.”

Warmth bubbles up inside of him. He bites his tongue to restrain himself from bolting over to him again.

“I am as light as a feather, yet no man can hold me for long. What am I?”

“Your breath!” Sam exclaims after pressing his button.

“What can you catch but not throw?”

Leonard slaps the buzzer. “A cold.”

“Three more riddles: A bus driver–”

Unable to take it, Boomerang springs away from his podium, “Wait! Eddy, Eddy, Eddy…“

Cold slouches, already so tired of him. “Stop.”

“Ey!” Digger turns just to flip him off. Placing his hand around Riddler’s waist, he pulls him to his side. “Eddy.”

His smile could not stretch any further across his face. “Yes, my dear?”

“I need ya to gag these two so I can win.”

“Hey!” Sam shouts. “Don’t bribe him!”

“Haven’t even bribed him yet!” Directing his attention onto his lover, he strokes his fingers along his jawline. “Can make it worth yer while.”

“Can you now?” His voice is low, almost hypnotizing.

“Mmmhm, make ya feel real good.” Bringing their hips together, their noses touch. Edward’s breath hitches at the forward gesture. Nygma purses his lips together as his eyes dart all over the place. His giggling sputters out of his control and he dips his head, his cheeks turning a bright red. Digger grins at the sight of his man completely reeling at this kind of attention. “Why don’t we go backstage, aye? We can, ah…” He whispers the rest into his ear and Edward stiffens, his hand flying to his mouth.

“Boomie, good gracious!”

“I can’t watch Boomer flirt.” Floyd looks away. “It is so weird.”

“Tell me about it.” Len groans.

“Come onnnnn, it’s cuuuuute.” Harley coos, resting her chin on her hands.

“Back to your podium, please.” Edward gently pushes him away and Boomerang lets him, giving him a wink before obeying his command. “A bus driver was heading down a street in Central City. He went right past a stop sign without stopping, he turned left where there was a "no left turn" sign, and he went the wrong way on a one-way street. Then he went on the left side of the road past a cop car. Still - he didn't break any traffic laws. Why not?”

Floyd buzzes in. “He was walking.”

“Correct. Always in you, Sometimes on you; If I surround you, I can kill you. What am I?” Digger punches the button fast, surprising everyone. “Digs?”

“The Riddler.”

Harley bursts out laughing. “Boomer! That first part…?!”

“I dunno, I think his DNA is in me, y’know… Maybe in my mouth, still.”

“Good lord–” Nygma briefly touches the bridge of his nose. “We are moving on.”

Sam holds down his button. “It’s water?”

“Correct. Last riddle: A pet shop owner had a parrot with a sign on its cage that said "Parrot repeats everything it hears". Davey bought the parrot and for two weeks he spoke to it and it didn't say a word. He returned the parrot but the shopkeeper said he never lied about the parrot. How can this be?”

Harley slaps it. “I GOT IT! The parrot’s deaf!”

“And with that! Our points are now Cold and Mirror tied with nine points and Boomer holding an inch of a lead with 10 points. Now, it is time for a reverse round.” The question mark on the screen flips, turning white on a green background. “Give me your best riddle. I will give you a full minute to think of one, starting with Captain Cold.”

Lowering his head, Leonard is quiet in thought – Suddenly, an air horn sounds behind them, making the six of them jump out of their shoes.

“James, was that you?!” Boomer whirls around just in time to see a familiar hand retreat into the curtains. “I’m gonna pop yer head off!”

“Not if I get to him first.” Leonard snarls–

“Gentlemen, stay at your podiums!” Riddler orders, smacks his cane against the floor. “The game cannot pause. Snart, you have less than forty seconds left.”

“Can we go kill James after this?” Sam asks, louder than he usually is. His ears must be ringing.

Edward waves his hand. “Yes, yes, you can do whatever you’d like with him after. I don’t care. Thirty-five seconds.”

“Hey!!” Trickster shouts in complaint beyond the stage.

“Sharko! Go get ‘im!”

“But Riddler said to stay at our podiums.” Shark states innocently making the Aussie throw his hands up in defeat.

Cold tentatively hits his buzzer. “I have one?”

“Pitch it to me. You don’t need to buzz in.”

“How many sides does a circle have?”

Immediately, Edward answers, “a circle has two sides: the inside and the outside. I already knew this one, I will only reward you with one point. Samuel?”

“Uhhhhh… Whennnnn can you add two to eleven and get one as the correct answer?”

“When you’re adding time on a clock. One point for you as well. How about the Squad?”

Shark raises his hand. “I have one, may I?”

Digger shrugs. “Go ahead, Sharko. I’m shit at this.”

“How many seconds are there in one year?”

“Oh, that’s good, Sharky,” Harley pats his big arm, “give him a math one!”

Riddler pauses and reflects for another moment. “Ahhh, that’s a tricky one, Nanaue. It’s twelve.”

“How in the hell is it twelve?” Floyd asks in a half mutter.

Shark beams, “Every month has a 2nd day!”

“And for that, you get two points. Boomie and his team are now in the lead by two points.”

“Ah, bugger, he’s got his schemin’ face on. He’s gonna twist the game somehow.”

Edward chuckles, his grin wide. “Which brings us to the end of our game, because we have a bingo winner!”

Boomerang reels back. “Bingo…? Who was playin’ bingo?” He glances at Harley.

She raises her hands. “I’ve been here, boy.”

“My bingo players, please, reveal yourselves and your cards.”

Out from the curtains, Lisa, Mick and Marco walk out with their big bingo sheets.

“Mick, what the hell…” Len starts, seeing his card.

“FIGS!” Sam reads out and laughs. “Do I talk about that–? My diet, okay well…” He shrinks back and hides his face. Laughter erupts from the Rogues.

“You wankers weren’t in on that?!” Boomerang shouts at the other two in disbelief.

“No! Nygma didn’t say anything about this.” Leonard tries to look over at the host.

“Am I that predictable?!” Digger hops down from his space and closer to the card. “Sulk–?! Sticks out ton– I don’t do that!”

“Yes, you do!” Harley counters. “All the time! You always lick your teeth.”

Harkness is stunned into silence.

“It was such an easy pick.” Lisa admits smugly. “If we kept going, I think I would have filled up this whole sheet.”

Boomerang takes off his beanie and bites down on it.

“While the game may be over, the festivities have just begun~!” Edward’s voice booms above them. “If everyone could step out behind the curtain– Birthday boy last, of course.”

“Awww, come on! I wanna see!”

“You’ll get to, man.” Floyd reassures him as he disappears through the green fabric.

One by one each of his friends leave until Leonard and Digger are left. The captain of the Rogues blocks off the entrance with his body.

“Why ain’t ya goin’ in?”

“They need a second.”

Harkness stomps his feet. “Lemmme iinnnn!”

“Not yet, you brat. They need to set it up.”

Disgruntled, Digger crosses his arms and kicks up the carpet. His annoyance is short lived, however. “... Can’t believe you and Ed came together on this. And everyone just kept it from me?”

“How else would we surprise you?” He asks rhetorically. “It did take… some convincing on Edward’s part. And workshopping. He wanted to do WAY more.”

“You told Riddler to tone it down? HOho! Surprised yer even standin’, mate.”

“You and me both. You havin’ a good time?”

“Ah, yea! I mean I won and me old squad is here, that’s…” He trails off and quickly clears his throat. He was not going to let himself cry again. The first time was already embarrassing. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“It’s not over yet, man.” He turns his head and peeps through the drapes. “They’re about ready. But I’m going in first alright? Wait like, five seconds… and count SLOW.”

Digger flips him off when he crosses the threshold. He rolls his head back. “Ooonnnnnneeeee……. Twooooooooo… three, four-five.”

Ripping the fabric open, darkness and silence welcomes him. Fear touches his chest. “Ah, crikey… None of ya better jump out at me!” His legs refuse to venture forward. “Y-you guys are in here right? You didn’t leave?”

No response. The Aussie backs away from the intimidating void and looks around the stage room for any sign of life. As he approaches the light stands, Edward’ voice bounces off the high ceilings. “Digger Harkness, step into the room.”

“Eddyyyy… Please, don’t scare me.” He throws the curtains open. This time light blinds him.

“Happy Birthday!” Noise makers and party poppers loudly sound, making the man flinch.

As his eyes finally adjust, he sees… the living room of the Rogues’ hideout decorated with balloons, streamers, and banners. The furniture has been rearranged to accompany the regular amount of people usually in here. More chairs have been added around the coffee table, where in the middle there is a rectangular cake. Blue boomerangs, kangaroos, and the Aussie flag were all professionally drawn in with icing alongside Happy Birthday Captain Boomerang.

All of his friends are here. Smiling at him. Happy to see him. He is corralled closer to the table. He can hear their voices, feel hands on him, but he feels numb to it all. The attention, the celebration, the singing… for once, it belongs to him. He feels weak in the knees. Never in his life has he ever felt such immense emotions till now.

“Darling? Digsies? Come back to me…”

His head feels heavy all of the sudden. His neck grinds as he looks up at Edward, leaning over him… When did he sit down? His face feels drenched. He can hear music now, familiar voices chatting and laughing. He feels palms so soft upon his face.

Riddler shortly exhales in relief. “There you are. You wept so hard, I was getting worried about you. Did you get overwhelmed? Was it too much?”

“... Never felt so happy…” He heaves truthfully. He lifts his weighty hand up and pulls on his arm. “Eddy…”

Rounding the sofa chair, he perches himself onto his lap and melts into his arms. Harkness adjusts himself, bringing his legs up to encase Nygma in his touch. He bows his head and rubs his face with his own. Smiling with such serenity, Edward dries his cheek with his hands. “Take as much time as you need to recuperate, dear.”

“I love you.” He manages to get out as another few drops squeeze out of his eyes.

“Awh, I love you so much, Digger.”

He sniffles. “Im’s’rry for cryin’...”

“Nooo, there’s no need to apologize for that.” He places a kiss just underneath his eye. “Everyone understood. Honestly, you should have seen Lawton’s face. But you focus on resting… you have a long day ahead of you.”

“Shit, you got more planned?”

“Nothing so extravagant as before! There are all sorts of party games. And cake.”

After a short pause, Digger mutters. “... I want cake.”

“I figured you would! Would you like to blow out some candles or just have a slice?”

“... I wanna be sung to.”

Edward does not hide his giggling. “I knew it.”

“Yew can call me an attention whore, Ed.”

“That comes later, dear.” He pecks him on the cheek and hauls himself off the couch.

After processing that for another moment, Digger blinks. “What’ju say?”

“Everyone!” Riddler claps his hands. “We are going to try the candles again, if we can all take our places.”

“Again…?”

“You burst into tears, hun.” Harley slaps him on the shoulders and forces him onto his feet. “Uuuupsies~”

Boomer catches Lawton’s eye and to his surprise the assassin approaches him. “Hey, you good, man?”

“Aww, you worried about ol’ Digger, Floyd?” Offering him a grin, Digger opens his arms out to him and flexes his fingers. “Bring it in, c’mon.”

After a moment’s pause, Floyd concedes and hugs the Aussie.

“Awwww, my boyssss.” Harley purrs, kicking her foot up.

Right before pulling away, Harkness brags in his ear. “I’m kickin’ ya arse in darts, Floyd.”

“Oh yeah?! I’d like to see you try.”

“Boomie,” Edward gingerly pulls him forward. Everyone settles down the coffee table, taking up space on the sofa, the chairs or the floor as he lights three candles.

“How old are you turning again, Boomer? Sixty?” James eggs on from the side.

“I’m not that old, James! Shut up. Surprised yew even showed yer face. I’m clockin’ you in a minute.”

“We do have a bow and arrow game that he can be the victim for.” Nygma suggests with a sly smirk.

“Is that the one with the blindfolds?” Mick asks. “Oh hell ya, let’s do that one first.”

“I didn’t do anything to you!” Jesse half-whines and half-yells.

“Nahhh, we should use darts– OH! Boomerangs would be better!”

“Cake!” Trickster cries out in a desperate attempt to get attention off of him. “Oh my god! It’s cake! Blow and get your spit all over it, Boomer.”

“Everyone!” Sitting down beside Digger, Edward lets the silence pass for another few seconds before conducting his hands. Voices fill the air, most out of tune and two trying to show off their range.

Regardless, Boomerang soaks in the attention, back straight and his head down. If he looks at any of them, he knows he will start crying again and already tears are threatening his vision once more. But his smile is glued to his face.

He takes a deep breath and blows out the candles.

Spending a birthday completely sober is a welcomed change. He may not have won a game of darts against the greatest marksman but he got to humiliate Trickster with how many plunger arrows he shot into his back. Charades, Heads Up, Codenames, the rest of the day were filled with games and seemingly never ending excitement.

Unfortunately, the energy begins to die down after dinner. Digger seems to be just as tired if not more so than everyone else. He bid his old squadmates goodbye, giving Harley two more hugs before letting her go. It was just him, Edward, and the rest of the Rogues now.

Honestly, Boomer feels ready to slip into a coma, full from food and cake. He is curled up on the sofa, resting his head on the decorative pillow. His eyelids are too heavy to hold up. But right before sleep takes him…

“Digs.” His voice flows so softly into his ear. He looks to see his lover gazing upon him with so much adoration. An angel looking down upon him. “It's time for us to hit the road.”

“My birthday still goin’?” He whispers, his eyes lighting up.

“Til the end of the day!” Nygma chuckles, his hand gliding through his hair to his chin. “Say your goodbyes. We won’t be seeing them for a while.”

Digger takes his hand just before his touch is gone and presses his palm into his cheek. “You holdin’ me hostage, Eddy?”

Edward smiles. “Something like that. Go on. Get up. I already packed your bags. I’ll be waiting in your van.”

“A’ight,” He moans as he stretches his torso. “Dunno where Eddy’s taken me but I’m gonna be gone. Don’t come get me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Len replies from the kitchenette, shaking his head.

“Have fuuuuun~” Mick sings, grinning big.

“Don’t know what we’re doin’ but ya.” Boomer stumbles down the corridor. “Byeee…”

Making it to the garage, he paws at the handle before flinging it open. He groans as he hauls himself onto the seat.

“You look so exhausted, my love.” Nyma pats his thigh. “Why don’t you take a nap? It’s a long drive.”

“Why ain’t we takin’ the gun thing?”

“Where’s the joy in that?” Edward drives out the already opened garage door. “I’d prefer to enjoy our seclusion like this.”

“Ohhhh, yew want time alone with me. I getcha.” Boomer snickers. “Naughty dog.”

His heart flutters seeing his smirk. “Get some rest, you're going to need it.”

“Crikey…! I should, aye?” He wheezes into a laugh. He pushes the button on his chair to recline his seat. He cushions his head with his arm. From this angle, the light reflecting off of the moon hits Edward’s face in such a way that… Harkness touches his leg. “Can I say somethin’, Ed?”

Riddler’s hand falls off of the wheel and holds his. “I feel that I have an idea for what you might say.”

“That a yes?”

“Would you like to say it now or save it until we arrive at our location?”

Boomer yawns, feeling sleep fast approaching. “Can I say that you… you mean so much to me?”

His lips jut out in a pout. “Of course you can say that, dear.”

“I don't think I’d have a birthday like this if you… if we…”

“Save it.” Edward squeezes him. “I can't get emotional and drive at the same time, I'm afraid.”

His chest feels so warm and light as he laughs, “Sure thing, love. I getcha.”

Everything went according to plan, the surprise, the cake, the overall celebration. Never has he seen Boomerang so overtaken by joy. The Aussie was beautiful in his glow. He is beautiful even now, passed out beside him, drooling and lightly snoring. Pulling up to the cabin, Riddler does not wake up yet. He jumps out first, taking their luggage inside. The interior is much grander than what the exterior perceived it to be. High ceilings, log walls, rustic furniture and paintings of the wilderness– a getaway. For now, he places their suitcases in the upstairs bedroom before flying towards the outdoors. The sunlight is just peeking through trees steadily regaining their leaves. Secluded. Alone. No neighbors, no complaints.

Nygma opens Boomer’s side of the vehicle.

“Darling…” Edward coos, gently shaking him. “We’re here.”

Digger groans before opening his eyes. He stretches out his back, his spine popping in complaint. He grunts again and whines as he rubs his face.

“Were you in a deep sleep?”

“Guess so…” He rolls his neck and eventually sits up, blinking hard.

“Take your time. Do you need help standing?”

“Nah, I’m… I’ll be good.” He rubs his eyes again. “Where are we?”

“There is still civilization just… not at our backdoor.”

“Aw strewth, you are kidnappin’ me.” Digger titters. Riddler backs off to give the Aussie room to slide out of the van. He blinks and gawks at his new surroundings. “You weren’t kiddin’…” He turns more and notices the house. “Heyyyyyy, this is swanky, Eds.”

“Wait until we’re inside. I already gathered our things. All it needs now is you and me.”

Harkness looks at him and his lips curl as his eyes flicker up and down. “Been waitin’ for this all day, haven’t cha?”

Edward feels his cheeks redden. “Perhaps…” He takes him by the hand and guides him to the front door.

“I know you, Eddy. You love gettin’ me alone. You like what happens when we’re by ourselves, aye?” Digger lowers his voice to tease him.

Riddler feels a part of him throb which he hurriedly ignores as he opens the front door. This distracts the Aussie instantly. By his silence and open mouth, Edward assumes he is rightfully enamored by the place.

“Charming, isn’t it? It’s ours for a week. I thought about a lot of other alternatives and you know how I feel about Airbnbs. However, this rental, seeing it in person, especially, enchanted me. I think it’s gorgeous with the dark wood paneling and the furnishing. I have already taken the liberty of filling the kitchen and making sure everything else is perfect. But now, we can either head to bed or… we can…”

Digger is on top of him now. His words fall apart as he cups his face. His pretty green eyes suck him in. His solemn expression is lit up with the color fueled by want. His brows are low and his mouth parts. No more excuses. No interruptions. No fear.

He whispers into his mouth, “I love you, Edward,” before sealing him with a confident kiss. Riddler clutches onto and squeezes his arms. His chest blooms in pure delight, satisfaction, bliss. Nygma returns the kiss in kind, tilting his head. Melting in complete unison, Harkness catches them before they fall and grabs the couch arm. His stumbling pins Edward into the side and forces a small gasp out of him.

His hands rest on his pecs. Somehow, he can feel Edward touching just underneath his skin. His fingertips are on his heart. Digger never knew how dominating love can feel. Yet his nerves are still intact.

“I know I'm rusty. Mean, I may have practiced on a pillow but don't tell anyone–”

Nygma silences him with another kiss. One where their lips are parted. Goosebumps shudder over his body as his tongue slides across his teeth. Boomerang moans and tries to pull Riddler closer via his hand on his lower back. He dips his head down and pushes into him. Drinking every single one of his stimulating exhales, Digger desires to sink his teeth deeper into Edward. Burrow into his skin and live there.

“I love you too, Digger.” Edward sighs after breaking out of the kiss. “Either that pillow made a fantastic partner, or you're lying to me. I haven't kissed since I was in college.”

“Coulda fooled me, love.” Just one more. One more kiss. His lips are addictive. Digger is practically talking into his mouth. “Lots of time to make up for, aye?”

Riddler moans, “Indeed, partner.”

In an unexpected turn of event, Boomer is spun around and shoved onto the couch, falling over the arm. Thankfully, the landing did not hurt. And as Digger looks up, he watches as Edward crawls over him to sit on his lap. His cock throbs at the sight.

Riddler grins, leaning down and plants one more kiss. “Now.” His slender hands run down his belly. “Why don't you sit back and enjoy the show?”

“Hohhh, Eddy! I love you.”

“I love you… Oh, one more.” Boomerang clutches him tightly as they are absorbed into another kiss.

Chapter Text

The Riddler has a love-hate relationship with social gatherings. If he is not the center of attention, well, why bother? He was invited to a barbeque, a sort of ring-in party for summer finally being upon Gotham after a cold spring. Edward would have showed up anyway, but hearing that Captain Boomerang will also be at the event. He packs certain items that will give him the attention he craves.

He has not seen the Australian in quite a while. Long distance is difficult. He wanted– required that they make up for it during this party.

He brought his other Rogue friends along, of course he did. A bigger crowd makes sneaking away easier.

He thought it was going to be easy.

Yes, he turned heads by dress much less than he usually would: a mesh shirt and short shorts with sandals and green sunglasses. It shows off his nipple piercings. He doesn't normally flaunt it but it is hotter than satan's armpit today.

He already received a compliment from Harley and wide eyes and sudden laughter from Selina and Pamela. Edward moved swiftly along and lounged on the deck chair.

It did not take long for the other party goers to arrive.

Upon arrival, he and Digger made eye contact first as the Aussie was embracing Harley. Already, the man is drooling at the sight of him, unable to look away. Nygma waves gayly in his direction and Harkness hurriedly returns it, his smile widening. There is a more exaggerated pep in his step as he makes his way over towards him. The setting sun brings a certain lovely glow to his desert kissed skin. The rays highlight his hair, catching the floating curls that bounce with each step. Riddler swings his legs over to the side and gets ready to stand as he grows closer.

From behind Boomerang, Edward spots Trickster with a water gun in his hands. His eyes are locked into the back of Digger's head. "Boomie-!" His warning comes too late. Water sprays his backside.

After embarrassing himself by letting out a pitched cry, Boomerang whirls around and is shot again by the gun. "Stop it! It's bloody cold!"

“Boomer!” Harley shouts and chucks a bigger water gun at him.

He nearly dives to catch it. Curiously, he pulls the trigger and the water comes out like machine gun bullets. Grinning from ear to ear, Digger laughs as he runs after Trickster. “Come back here, ya drongo!”

Dejected, Edward crosses his arms and slouches in his chair.

There was hardly a second attempt after two hours of nonsense. Nygma positioned himself in optimal locations where Digger would easily see him. Hell, he even put on those dumb sunglasses with blinking lights. And yet here he is watching his lover get distracted by everyone else.

Which brings him to this point in time, where everyone is getting ready to set off the fireworks.

And at this point, Riddler does not care who sees him dressed like this. Humiliation turns that man on and Nygma is going to pounce on any opportunity he can get. So, he waits by the door frame, crossing his legs at the ankles and his arms as he leans into it. He makes eye contact with the back of Digger’s head and taps his fingers. His spatial awareness varies by the day. With a room full of friends, Edward is beginning to doubt his chances.

“Yeah, mate, yeah, I’m gonna grab some more–” Boomerang finally disengages in conversation from Floyd and when he turns around he looks at Edward not once, not twice, but three times.

Once in acknowledgement.

Twice at realizing that Edward is in bright blue lingerie.

Thrice is when he remembered where they were.

Dropping his empty cup, he darts around frantically but no one else has noticed the Riddler except him. Edward lifts off the wall and slowly creeps backwards into the hallway. His intense gaze drawing the Aussie forward until he slips behind a bedroom door.

Quickly, he perches himself at the end of the bed. Nygma does not need to wait long until Digger barrels through the partially closed door, busting it open. He slam it behind him by pressing his body into it. Satisfaction drips into his chest as Harkness undresses him with his eyes. His third leg is already poking out. With Boomerang, he never has to worry if he is ever boring the Aussie. The man is so easy to please.

“Awwhh, strewth…” His swallows openly. His fingers twitch, itching to touch him. “Never seen ya wear this before. Did’ja shave ya legs for me?”

“Mmmhmmmm,” He hums, his face showing nothing else outside of vague annoyance.

“You’re stunning, Eddy… What a beaut you are, like uh, like a statue. Greek god? Something poetic like that.” He stumbles forward, pulling on his belt. "C'mere-" He slurs.

Lifting his leg up, Riddler presses his foot into his chest. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he gasps. Right, the man has a weird thing for his feet. Fine. He will play into it.

“You ignored me all day.” He applies pressure onto him and instantly Digger falls onto his knees. His jaw opens in pure awe at his lover above him. The sight makes him blush. “I don’t appreciate being forgotten.”

“Nah, no!” He scrambles, his fingers caressing his foot. “I didn’t forget you. Never. Could never do that.”

“You hardly looked at me.”

“I-I was distracted! Buh but you were in my head! I thought about you! I looked for you!”

“I’m afraid I never saw that. Your thoughts are not tangible either.”

“Awhh, Eddy…” He bends his head and kisses his ankle. He strokes his leg lovingly, his callouses hurt his sensitive skin. “What can I do for ya?”

“Get on the bed.” He orders coldly and snaps his foot away from him, much to the Aussie’s disappointment.

Hobbling upright, he climbs up onto the bed and flops down on his back with his legs spread wide.

Riddler hums, crawling until he is on top of him. “Already so eager despite your lack of awareness of what could happen to you.”

His hands are drawn to his slim waist and he tries to urge him down onto his lap. “I’m ready ta give ya me full attention, doll.”

Despite his commanding strength, Edward stands on all four. “Is that right? If you are indeed ready to take on that responsibility…”

“Name it. How are ya punishin’ me? I would rattle off but I aint givin’ yew ideas.”

“How self aware you've become” He runs his hands over his chest as a tease. “Only my pleasure is your top priority, yours will only come when I deem it valuable.”

“Done.” Boomer agrees sharply. Scooping him up, he pins the Riddler against the mattress and dives into his neck.

Nygma shudders and squirms in his grasp as his tongue and lips work themselves into his skin. His head rolls back in heightening excitement. His hands roam just as eagerly over his small frame, groping where there is extra fat. His touch starved body plumes with new warmth that spreads down past his hips. He bends and melts, mimicking clay in his big hands. Already, Edward gasps fitfully. “I- I was…nt… finished!”

“Said yew wanted pleasure, Eddy.” Harkness coos, nipping his ear while he continuously fondles his buttcheeks. “Ain't gonna finish you off till ya tell me to.”

Suddenly, Nygma puts a hand to his throat. His already blown out eyes bore down into him. He can feel that member twitch on his thigh. “Question: What can never be completed? What does not have an end goal? What will keep going even when everything is gone?”

“This a riddle?” He asks breathlessly, already too horny to think. “Uhhh… the sun? Watah?”

“Answer: Time. Stretch me– mold me like humanity has done with time.”

“Funny way of askin’ me to love on ya, Eddy. But if that’s whatcha want, I’ll give it to ya.” Digger grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. “More than happy to.” He leans down into his lips and rocks his hips into him.

Chapter Text

Digger is an easily bored man. And when he gets bored he likes to use his hands. Drum on things, boomerang things, scratch or pick at things, touch things. Harley had to repeatedly slap his hand so he wouldn’t pick at his old scabs. He kept complaining that they were bleeding! It was the only solution in her mind.

One thing always leads to another, though.

Reclined on the Aussie, Harley does not really give a damn either way that he is fondling her boobs like stress balls as they watch a cartoon.

“... Soooooo…” Digger pops his mouth, “this does nothin’ for ya?”

Her brows furrow. “No? Why would–Boomie, how much porn do you watch? … And suddenly we’re quiet. That’s not a good sign.”

“Shut it, Harl.” He mutters.

“Hun, you shouldn’t trust that. It’s built off of lies and the male gaze and male beliefs of how women should act in bed.”

“... Yeah, I guess. Ain’t like I watch it… anymore.”

“Uh-huh.” She hums, not at all believing that.

He interrupts his own silence. “But sometimes you complain ‘bout ‘em bein’ sensitive!”

“Yeah. When I’m on my period. And those bitches hurt! It’s not a good feeling, Boomer.”

“... What about the nips?”

She snorts. “Feel ‘em all you want but it’s not a turn on for me… Disappointed over there, big guy?”

“Lil bit.”

“Pfffff, Boomie, have you, I dunno, maybe consider listening to women?”

He pauses. “Am… I not doin’ that right now?”

“Shit, I guess so!” She cackles.

“Love women. Could listen to ‘em all day.”

“Suuuuuuure.”

“What?!”

“Is that how you thought before we started datin’?”

“Fair dinkum, yah!”

Harley hums for a while. “Your flirting skills suggest otherwise.”

“Oi! I’m always improvin’, alright?”

“Yeahhh, for suuuure.” She elongates, rolling her eyes.

Hearing him suck a breath full of air, Harley immediately knew what was coming and desperately attempted to climb out of his grasp.

“Nope, no stop Boom– ST OP!”

Unfortunately for her, Boomerang is stronger. He blows it into her neck, making her squirm and her laugh shrill.

Chapter Text

Drinks weren’t necessary for anything like this, not anymore. With the remaining Rogues off in their bedrooms for the night, Sam and Digger lingered behind. It is not a matter of one thing leading to another. The Aussie was not expecting this. His football game was lasting longer than either of them anticipated, bringing them into overtime. His eyes are superglued to the screen. His elbows rest on his knees that bounce with anxiety.

Usually, you can do anything to Digger in this state and he wouldn’t notice. He acts as if he moves from his spot, his team loses the match. One time, James balanced a whole sleeve of crackers on his head and he and Mick started playing Jenga with it. As long as you don’t block the screen, the Aussie is silent and still.

Sam scooches over to him and wraps his arm around his shoulders, rubbing his hand into his arm. Boomer makes a small whimper in his throat.

“Aww, Digs,” He frowns and gives him a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure they’ll come through.”

Scudder gives him a kiss on the cheek. Surprisingly, this causes Boomer to lean into him, resting his head on his shoulder. Sam replies by combing his blonde hair with his fingers, lightly scratching his skull as he does. At the fourth stroke, Digger melts with a small whine.

His lips tug at the corners as he tries not to smile. He tilts his head and gradually kisses up his neck. Harkness shudders and allows his body to be guided to the back of the couch. Digger lets out a needy huff as Scudder explores underneath his shirt. He did not want to rouse Boomer too much. These are chaste touches of comfort for a stressed out Aussie. The neck kisses may be pushing it but Harkness still refuses to pull his gaze from the screen.

“I was wondering why you weren’t coming to bed.” Lisa announces herself. “How long do we have?”

“About five minutes.”

She walks around the couch and places her hands on her hips. Her smile, smug and playful.

“He was making such sad little noises, Lisa.” He cannot help snickering. “He needs comfort.”

“So I see…” She sits on the other side of Captain Boomerang “If you want to relax him, Sammy, you have to do the beard trick.” She uses her nails to softly scratch his beard.

Instantly, his eyelids flutter and he inhales sharply. His body tenses up before inevitably going lax. His legs spread wider.

Sam and Lisa were not necessarily looking for a third after their marriage but Boomer just kind of… happened. It started off with Scudder simply being curious. He always had this curiosity about Boomer and honestly the glances the Aussie gives him does not settle down his heartbeat. He got permission from Lisa, of course– shocked to hear that Lisa actually wanted to watch them. Things sped off from there. In all honesty, Digger could not be happier about the turn of events.

Lisa enjoys watching this overly masculine man be reduced to putty with a gliding touch. Sam cannot deny the delicious sensation that it leaves in his gut. They have barely done anything to him and he is already blissed out.

“We’re treading dangerous waters now, Li.”

“I’m aware.” She smirks and nods towards the still distracted captain. The two plant their mouths on either side of the Aussie’s face. His breathing hitches dramatically. As Lisa dips down and sucks on his neck, her hand running over his chest, Sam nips his earlobe and brings it into his mouth. This time Digger gets louder in his pleasure. Quickly, Scudder muffles his moaning with a kiss. The fabric croaks under Boomer as he shifts. His hand traverses up his back until Harkness finds his head where his fingers grab his dark hair and shove him further into his open mouth.

Small things like this leads Sam to believe that he is Boomer’s favorite. Lisa doesn’t let him do even half the shit to her that Sam allows him to do to him. The married couple do meet in the middle by bathing him in their collective attention like this and watching him gradually become overstimulated– can you blame him for repeating himself? Digger is an addiction.

He looks drugged out of his mind as he stares at Mirror with his half lidded eyes and his bottom lip swollen.

“You’re so damn cute…” The Aussie cannot deny the compliment in this state.

“I think it’s time, Sammy.” Lisa motivates Boomer to turn his head by feathering his ear with her finger tip.

Without a word, Digger leans up and Glider returns in kind, giving him a kiss almost as passionate as her husband’s. Seeing his best friend and his wife make out sends a shiver up his spine. She grabs his hands by the wrists and props them over his head as she pulls away. She wipes the saliva away with her tongue. “You ready to come to bed now?”

Harkness nods, his eyes glazed over.

“I’ll carry him.”

“I was thinking about using my ribbons.”

“Ooooh, kinky.”

“I thought so, seeing how he melted into a pillow princess.”

“Not a princess…” The Aussie finally speaks but it is barely audible.

Sam snorts. “Hmm, let’s get him naked first before we bring those out.”

Digger moans at the idea, prompting the two to hush him. Mirror does not get up first, he grabs his hands and hauls him over his shoulders, adjusts him once and then stands up. Harkness grunts in a higher pitch.

“Didn’t think I could do that, huh? You’re in for a few more surprises, Digs.”

“Awh, crikey…” His sigh makes Lisa giggle.

However, before they fully entered their room, Boomer suddenly bolts upright. “Wait! Me game! Did we win?! Sam, put me down!”

The writhing Australian wiggles out of his grasp and flies back to the den.

“... We were so close.” Lisa sighs.

“So damn close.”

Chapter Text

Boomerang does not necessarily enjoy the heat but he tolerates it well enough thanks to the outback desert. It took some convincing and whittling down but eventually Edward allowed him to sit in his boxers on the couch. Not like he was completely naked… Honestly, they have done worse on this couch anyhow.

He is not really watching TV either. Blankly staring at it to make time speed up. He has other options but since it is close to when he and Edward hit the hay; he didn’t want to get too invested in anything. He could always go annoy his lover but that activity has unpredictable outcomes. He could end up sleeping where he is sitting. Edward could be willing to play along. It could get him riled up and start an argument (but he stays on the bed). Or rile him up and it ends in sex.

He stares up at the ceiling in thought of where tonight could take him, completely unaware his question will soon be answered.

Hearing Edward finally comes out of the bathroom, he glances over and sees him not in his normal pyjamas. The man is in his boxers.

His brows shoot up. He fumbles for the remote to turn off the TV as he stands up. “Strewth, Eddy, you don't normally wear that to bed.”

Riddler huffs, heading into the kitchen. “I’m too damn hot… This is utter nonsense!” He grabs an ice bag from the shelf.

“It’s summer, love.”

“June is supposed to be gradual. Have a reminiscence of spring.” He talks over the ice he is pouring into the bag. “Everyday gets slight– ever so SLIGHTLY hotter. Perhaps, dips back in temperature. Why is it a hundred degrees like it is August!”

Digger wanders over, somewhat dragging his feet. “Honestly, Ed, this might make ya hotter if ya ask me.” He says as he places his hand on the other side, pinning him to the counter.

“Not tonight, Digs.”

He sticks out his lips in a pout, blinking his big eyes.

Nygma grabs his hand and tosses it out of his way. “No thank you.” He rounds the Aussie with his ice pack, turns off the lights, and walks towards his bedroom.

Harkness does not follow, watching his little tush jiggle under that garment.

Boomerang drums his fingers into the countertop and quietly exhales, “Righto… Guess that gave me nothin’.”

He glances at the couch and meanders back to it. He takes the decorative pillows off and he nestles down on the couch, his feet propped up on the arm since he is too tall for the length of the furniture. It did not bother him none. He has slept more often on the floor than a bed in his life. A couch is rather comfy.

“Why are you still out here?” Edward’s voice returns, exasperated. “Are you that upset that I won’t sleep with you?”

“You think I’m that slimy, Ed?” He chuckles. If he was twenty years younger, he would have been defensive. “Two bodies make a bed bloody hot. So, I’m sleepin’ out here. Don’t mind the heat but I know you’ve got a thing wif needin’ a blanket on ya. Autism or whatever yew call it. Bed’s prolly nice and cold for ya. And I’m a furnace, heheh! I’ll be here, Eddy. You get a good sleep, aye?”

… Feeling a shadow cast over him, he opens his eyes to see his man hovering over him.

“I won’t get a good sleep if you’re not beside me.” He says incredibly softly that the weight of his words crushes his ribcage.

Harkness encourages his vulnerability gently, sitting upright and bringing him onto his lap. His hands rest on his waist and he gives Nygma a kiss on his cheek. “Tell me how to fix it, darl.”

His foreheads rest against each other. “Perhaps… you can sleep on top of the covers?”

“Be hard not to hold you. Big habit.”

“I know.” He states unceremoniously, mindlessly playing with the Aussie’s hair. “What do you think about investing in a summer home?”

“Figured the Riddler already had one?”

“Well, when they heard that the Riddler bought their property after a recent arrest, let’s say it’s no longer mine.”

“Awww… Suppose yew can’t take it back, y’know, lil persuasion and all.”

That brings out a rather dark chuckle out of him, which gives Boomer goosebumps. “We’ll see.”

Harkness gathers Edward into his arms and stands up. Despite all that complaining of heat, Nygma melts into his embrace as he is carried across the house and into their room.

He sets his lover down onto the mattress and feels his arms wrap around his neck before he could straighten his back. Grinning, he obeys Riddler’s silent command and kisses his lips. He cups his face, the kiss slow but loving. The kind where your heart feels fuller than full and you pull away feeling rejuvenated. There is nothing else quite like it to Boomerang.

“I’ll look into a summer house tomorrow.” Edward promises, letting him go but Harkness does not move from his spot until Riddler gives him a little push to his chest.

A few giggles bubble up through his throat. “Okay, yeah, yeah…” He crawls over him to his side of the bed and flops down, facing his lover.

Digger adores the smile on his face. He reaches out to him, his hand petting close to his body. Edward graciously takes his hand as he settles under the thin blanket and gives it a sweet kiss. “Goodnight, darling.”

“Mmm’night, love.”

Chapter Text

It was sweet the way Edward was looking at him at first after the initial confusion: genuine joy, excitement and, dare he say, love. Hack didn’t have to, but she brought him aboard as well. Given his track record with Amanda, it is better to keep him out of her clutches despite him not being in Metropolis. Digger wanted to frame that expression before it was snuffed the second he put his hand on his throat and squeezed there while lifting him off his feet. His soft eyes turned sharp and his grimace bared teeth. He hisses in complaint as he writhes, clutching his arm.

“Asinine abscess of an Australian, yeah?” Digger whispers dangerously, “You remember sayin’ that, Riddler?”

His pupils grow large as realization dawns on him. His adam’s apple bobs underneath his palm. His gaze darts around for any witnesses before he replies. “A phrase to keep them off our scent, darling."

“Asinine… abscess…?” He sneers, his jaw clenching.

“Perhaps, I was a bit too harsh.”

“Yeah? You think?”

“Then allow me to apologize… if you’d please.”

With a lingering glare, he releases him and crosses his arms. He coughs and rubs his neck. At this point, Boomerang half expects he is going to get slapped for manhandling him like that. He is not sure what his other half was expecting but it definitely wasn’t him cupping his face and kissing him right then and there, all passionate and needy.

Immediately, Digger brings him close, his hands on his waist and his thumb affectionately rubbing his skin. His tight jaw pops as he softens it. He tilts his head to quickly deepen the kiss as he dips Nygma with resounding acceptance of his physical apology. Riddler giggles into his mouth and Digger swallows it wholly.

Edward smells like grime and sweat. His favorite. He could eat it off of him if he could. Take a big bite and hold it over his tongue to savor it. When their kiss finally parts, Harkness dives in and peppers his cheek all the way down to his neck with unrestrained love. He holds him firmly, fingers spread wide with the desire to be fused with his lover.

“You love so hard, Boomie.” He chuckles, twirling his dirty blonde hair. “Someone could take advantage of you.”

"I’d let ‘em.” He answers with a swallow. His skin is nice and salty.

That… hurt where his heart should be. He supposes Boomerang has made him keenly aware that he still has one, despite it all. He is still painfully human and not a supergenius above all frivolous emotion as he would prefer to be, respect deriving from fear. Digger has reminded him that love, respect from love, feels extraordinarily different. Addictive, desired… Edward takes off his glasses and returns his affections with equal if not with more vigor. Harkness whines from the attention, his body standing slack as a result. Occasionally his fingers will twitch when his lips glide or press down certain spots. His head rolls back and his breathing deepens.

“I missed ya, Eds…” He says huskily. “Heaps…”

“And I to you, my love.” He whispers after placing his lips just under his ear.

Hearing a squeak, Nygma is yanked out of his sappy haze and he looks to– he can't see. He puts his glasses back on– to see Harley Quinn with a giant open smile on her face. Her hands squish her cheeks in genuine surprise.

Only a few seconds of uncomfortable quiet passes through the room.

“Sooooo, you do have a soft spot!” She coos in thrilled satisfaction, her hands clasped. “And it’s BOOMER?”

Of all the variables Edward thought of and wrote scripts that would make Shakespeare blush for such an occasion like this one, he cannot think of a single one as he shouts, frazzled beyond repair, “Quinn, do you mind?!”

“I don't mind at all! I mean, maybe a little bit because I would’a never expected this turnout given both of your personalities–”

“Harls! Just forget what ya saw and sod off, will ya?!”

“Nuh uh! I got questions now! Like when the hell did this start? I usually have a pretty good gaydar, Boomer, but ya fooled me.”

“The hell is a gaydar…?”

Edward growls, “And they will be answered later if you would please give us some alone time? Now?”

“Yah! And don’t tell anyone! … Please?”

“Heyyy, who do ya think I am? Sharky? Just don’t take too long– or ya know, make too much noise. Ah wink.” She clicks her tongues as she finger guns her way out of the room. The alien door closes behind her.

“Yeah, like anyone would notice me gone…” Boomerang mutters to himself, stabbing Nygma once again.

Frowning, Riddler places a hand on his cheek and brings him into a chaste, sweeter kiss. “Put this on, and warm you'll be. Take one off, and an emotion you'll see. What is it?”

Harkness stares blankly at him, his eyes half open. “Uhhh… I-I dunno.”

“You’re wearing them.”

“... Shoes?”

“Mm, they are further up on the body.”

Digger looks down and examines himself before finally looking at his hands. “What? Me gloves?”

“Go through the riddle again.”

“Put it on and you’re warm… Right. Take one off, you said?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

Boomer peels a glove off and looks at his naked hand in confusion. “What am I supposed to see?”

Shaking his head, Edward takes it and kisses his palm.

“Oh!” Digger exclaims with a smile, “happy?”

Alright, he gets brownie points for being cute. “Close enough, dear. It’s love. Take off the G?”

“Ohhhhhh…! You bloody nerd. I love ya too.”

Chapter Text

Harley’s wedding is gorgeous, full of flowers and plants and alcohol. Temptation sits in front of Digger and he drinks it sparingly. His tall glass of water is sitting right next to him. However, his gaze has not landed upon him in quite some time. Edward has been completely engrossed by the beauty of the wedding and the reception. Boomerang was not invited up to make a speech. He would ruin it, he knows that. But it was nice seeing Shark up there though. Nygma is not even the one getting married and yet HE is the one crying. Although confused, Harkness rubs his back in an attempt to console him. It’s so beautiful and sweet. He got out between sobs.

When the reception ended, music blasted at full volume and Pamela swung Harley onto the dance floor. Temptation is cradled between his fingers now. Holding it helps him feel in control despite not partaking. Edward stands at his hip, simply watching rather than participating.

“You’ve been quiet for a while now, Ed." He holds him by the waist. "You good?”

“Mm? Oh, I was mulling something over.”

“Ah, shit. Here it comes.”

Ignoring his teasing, he carries on. “What is your opinion of marriage, Digs?”

“What? For us?”

“Who else would I be talking about? Yes, us, darling. I want to know your thoughts.”

Boomerang shrugs. “Don’t really see it.”

“Is that so?” He asks slowly.

Great, in the danger zone already. “Was born into a broken marriage, Eddy. Seeing that didn’t give me a whole lotta hope for something that… confined. Mean, you’ve heard, ya? Most marriages end a divorce, so why bother? Feel like we’re doin’ fine as is. Already live together, kinda. What’s the point if we’ve already got a place and fuckin’? You get where I’m comin’ from, Ed?”

“A bit of a dreary thing to say at our friends’ wedding.”

Digger blushes. “I mean, not that I don’t think Harls and Ivy won’t make it…! Just… Ah god, no matter what I say I’m diggin’ a hole.”

“I do know where you’re coming from. We both come from broken homes. We have seen our friends end up in bitter divorces… I understand transparently. Harley has become a more healthy person and so has Pamela so, I do have rather high hopes for them.”

“Yeah, I just…" He puts his drink down and fully turns towards him. "I don’t wanna lose ya, love. I wouldn’t know how ta go on.”

Edward finally blushes and his face relaxes. “I don’t want that either, dear.”

Boomer gives him a quick peck on the lips. “C’mon, Eddy, let’s get jiggy.”

- 20 Years Later -

The Riddler is no more. Oh god no, he’s not dead. He is sitting in his office, typing away on his desktop computer. Edward Nygma. Financial Accountant. No more riddles. No more schemes. No more obsessing with Gotham. With Batman gone, what bother? Everything died after that one night. Penguin’s dead. Scarecrow is dead. Mad Hatter’s gone. Riddler barely made it out with his limbs attached. His right leg is paralyzed. Monoplegia.

Physical therapy is helping, albeit slowly. He uses his old question mark cane the way it is meant to be utilized, instead of twirling it around like a baton.

Digger stares at him from the doorway, his heart full of longing. Yearning for the good old days once again. He misses Riddler but he loves Edward much more. Just… seeing him injured depresses him. Nygma always seemed so untouchable. Riddler told him to stay behind and he obeyed. But when he saw the explosion on the news, he grabbed his speed gauntlet and zoomed around Gotham until he found his lover bloodied and slipping into unconsciousness.

It was traumatizing for both of them. That was seven years ago.

Boomerang carries Edward’s lunch and places it next to his keyboard.

“Oh, thank you, darling.”

His dark hair is now dipped with gray with some white near his neck. He wears his glasses all the time now. Digger obeys his desires. He slips his hands over his chest to his belly that now pokes out just over just belt and hugs him. His nose trials from his cheek down to his neck where he plants a chaste kiss. Nygma leans back and sighs in contentment. Over the years, he has become much calmer; his rage rarely rears its head. His personality has not died, however. He is still a showboat. He wears the most “look at me” outfits that fills Digger’s up with love.

“I’ll be on my break soon, Digs.” His hand reaches up and pets his hair.

“I know…”

Digger has become a freeloader. Riddler is well off anyway. The mortgage has been paid in full. Life is treating them well. A little too well for Boomer’s liking. There were no thrills anymore. It is hard to get it up sometimes. Hell, it hurts to have sex now. That used to be a huge thing for him to complain about in his fifties but now it does not bother Harkness as much anymore. He just wants to be close to Edward and hold his fragile body in his arms all day.

Boomerang is balding. He started losing his hair rapidly in his early fifties. Edward noticed his change in behavior when he started wearing his beanie to bed. He finally tore the hat off one day and balked at the sight. Digger mentally prepared himself for rejection or a disgusted “ew.” Neither came. Edward took him into his hands and forced him to bend his neck so he could get a better look at it. Harkness was shaking. To him, he was losing his handsomeness. He already has heavy wrinkles on his face. His eating habits were the same but now he is gaining more weight. Edward was going to leave him.

But Riddler kissed the top of his head.

“There is nothing wrong with aging, my love. You're my Digs. My Boomie. I’d be a fool to stop loving you now.”

Harkness needed that.

God, does he need him.

But there is something in the back of his mind that refuses to let go. His pride. Captain Boomerang, where has he gone? Why isn’t he the face of villains everywhere? A prime specimen? A victor! The man who killed Flash- if he actually did it. The man who got away. The man, rich and famous and bloody sexy? Who is he now? Just Digs. Honestly, he doesn’t mind being Just Digs at home with his Edward. His Eddy.

But what he would give to go back in time…

The doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it…” Boomerang sighs and pulls himself away from his lovely warmth.

“If it’s the girl scouts, Digs, could you get me those s’mores? You know where my wallet is.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

Their house is the same as it has been since Edward was forty. No reason to move out. Gotham keeps its grip on you. No reason to travel to Keystone anymore after the Rogues fell apart. They have travelled out of the country on occasion and decorated the house with their souvenirs. Not anymore though, with Nygma’s leg. He needed to stay home so he could focus on physical therapy that he occasionally tries to skimp on.

Digger does not look through the peephole.

“Who is it?” He calls out through the door.

“Harkness? That you?” A familiar voice answers.

“Snart?” His heart flip flops. He unlocks and throws the door open.

Damn, old man Captain Cold looks far worse in age.

“Shit, where’d all that hair go, mate?”

“Nice to see you too…” He replies bitterly.

“Sorry, sorry, I… it’s good to see ya, hair or not." Boomer extends his hands which Cold takes and they bring it into a brief hug. "Whatcha doin’ in Gotham, mate? It ain't to see me?”

“I am, actually. But now I'm having second thoughts.”

“Awh, c’mon, mate, I said sorry!" He opens the door wider. "You wanna come in?”

Leonard does not budge. “Is Edward home?”

“Yeah, he’s here?”

“I’ll make this quick then.”

He tilts his head. “Quick?”

Len glances over Harkness' shoulder then lowers his voice into a whisper. “Boomer, I’m getting the Rogues back.”

Digger makes a face. “You wut?”

“Let me finish. I found a way that we can get set for life. The ultimate heist. You remember Gorilla City? I know where their gold is.”

This is it... This is it! He glances behind him and grabs Len by the shoulder. “Are ya shitting me, you found it…?!”

As Snart opens his mouth, Digger hears a cane tapping on hardwood. They both look to see Nygma who is now staring back at them. He stands there, his weight fully on his cane. His astonishment is soon replaced with vague hostility.

“Oh. Hello, Snart." He bares his teeth in his smile. "I see the years have put you through the rinse cycle.”

The tension between the Rogues and Edward have dwindled over time but Riddler’s distaste for his old boss is stronger than ever.

“Nygma.” Len returns, much like his old moniker.

“That sun must be baking your head. Would you like to come inside and have some coffee? Or do you prefer tea?” Edward, the king of passive aggression.

“I’m fine. I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I’d come by to see Boomer.”

“Yes, well, Digs and I were about to go on a cathartic walk if you’d prefer that instead.”

“... I’m good. Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Mmmhmmmm.” He hums chipperly, masking his irritation in vain. His good foot taps the floor.

Cold clears his throat. “Alright... it was good to see you, Boomer." He extends his hand and the two engage in a bro-y hug. "Call me when you can, Boomer. My number’s the same.” He whispers into his ear just before pulling away. He makes his way down the stone path.

“Bye.” Digger shuts the door. Gold. Real gold…

“I can’t believe he showed his face here." Nygma huffs in exasperation. "He didn’t invite you to go out somewhere, did he?”

Harkness refrains from looking at him. He walks into the kitchenette and towards the fridge as he answers as casually as he can. “Nah, Ed, he didn’t.”

“So what, this was just a courtesy call?”

“Guess so. We were just chattin’ 'fore you scared him away.” He grabs a cola and cracks it open.

“I see… I suppose age could change him in that way, though I find that hard to believe.”

“Snart’s a decent bloke, Ed.” He says after a drink.

“He’s a stubborn fool, that is what he is. The number of times he has nearly gotten you killed…” He adds bitterly, his lips curling down and his eyes drooping.

“Oi, hey, I’m alive, ain’t I? I’m still here.” Digger puts his cola down and rounds the island to stand in front of him. He grabs and holds his free hand. “I’m here.”

Nygma rests his head against his and hums in relief. He has gotten more clingy the more he has aged. Honestly, they both have. Harkness did not think they would last this long but he is happy to be proven wrong every day.

“Did ya eat yer sandwich?” He affectionately rubs his arm.

“I had a few bites… then I got curious.”

“Want me to bring it in here? You have a sit, love.”

“Help me?”

“Course.” Carefully, he assists his Edward onto the couch and props his cane on the side table. As he walks to his office, all he can think about is the feeling of gold in his hands, his name on everyone’s lips. The man who stole from Gorilla Grodd and got away with it: Captain Boomerang

With Edward in the bathroom, Boomer starts packing up. If he wanted in, he had to leave tonight. Nygma usually takes a fairly long while in the wash, doing his nightly routine to the letter. He has time. He can’t bring out a suitcase that is too revealing. He grabs a big bag from the top shelf in the closet and drops it onto the floor. He snatches two outfits from their hangers as Cold’s instructions. He scampers out of the bedroom to grab his prized boomerangs hanging in the hallway. Carefully, he places them inside his luggage.

Wait. He can’t leave without a note. Edward left his notepad and pencil in the kitchen. He heads over there and hurriedly scribbles Harley– wait Riddler can just call her up.

Harley

He tries again with Sam– no, can’t use him. Sam’s dead.

Sam

Feeling his guilt weighing on him, he begins with an apology:

I’m sorry love
I hafta do this
You understand

With Riddler’s “one last job,” he knew at the beginning it wasn’t worth it but the thrill and the chase he craved so earnestly… He dived head first and being bedridden was his reward instead.

I promise I wont get hurt
I love you
I’ll be back soon
your Digs

“That should do it.” Upon returning to their bedroom, Digger finds his lover standing over his luggage, holding a boomerang in his hand.

He feels nauseous. “Eddy…”

“This is what you and Cold were discussing.” He says in a low voice, refusing to turn around. “Why were you hiding this from me?”

He glances down at his leg brace. “... Cuz I knew you’d say no.”

With a long inhale, he exhales. He does not move from his spot. “Where are you going?”

“Gorilla City.”

“... For one final score?”

“Yeah, Ed.” He feels like a bastard for confirming this. “One last score.”

Riddler haphazardly tosses the boomerang back into the bag and limps past him towards the hallway. “Have fun.”

“What? Edward!” He carefully grabs him by the arm. “No lecture? No nothing?”

“You decided against telling me. Clearly, you don’t want me to stop you. Even if I do, you’re going to leave anyway. Why stop fate?”

“Eddy! You don't get it. When I come back, we’ll be rich! Richer than ol’ Bruce!”

“If.” He corrects stiffly. “If you come back.”

“If–? I’m a boomerang, love, I always come back!”

“... All it takes is an aimless throw for a boomerang to not return, Digs.” He takes him by the wrist and eases his hand away from him.

Harkness watches him hobble to the den and plop down onto the couch. He doesn’t look back at him. He finds the TV remote and simply watches whatever is on screen with indifference.

Gritting his teeth, Boomerang turns away. “Fine.” He crumbles up and tosses the note to the side. “Bugger me for thinkin’ you’d get it.”

There are no goodbyes. Without a word, Digger closes the front door behind him and gets into his van.

It is odd, seeing his old squad look… so old. Lisa’s hair is duller in color. James… looks nothing like himself which is really off-putting to the Aussie. Marco’s dead. Sam’s dead. Being here forces Digger to fondly remember and miss them both. He glares over at Evan who is asleep on his seat. Bronze Tiger is new. He remembers him from his squad days but apparently he and Lisa are a couple now, according to Cold.

There is no grand welcome for him. Although, Lisa does run up and embrace him. “It’s good to see you, Boomer.” She sounds like she means it too.

“Uh-yeah,” he awkwardly pats her back, “you’re lookin’ good, love.”

Of course, James wastes no time with his insults. “Jesus, someone let himself go.”

“Sod off, Trickster.” He bites back. He looks at Cold. “You didn’t tell me this drongo would be here, Snart.”

“Forgot our motto, Harkness? We put our differences at the door and we stick to the score. You two can fight after.”

No welcome back. No warmth at all. Digger should have expected this. The Rogues haven’t been the same since Sam died and Evan took his place. Bastard. And it got worse when Marco passed. The Aussie takes a seat and crosses his arms tightly to his chest. Their flight to Democratic Republic of the Congo isn’t for another hour.

Good to know that he is still just as impatient as he was twenty something years ago. He is going to tackle James to the floor if he does not stop sneaking a peak at him and giggling. That or let his anger build up and drive a boomerang into Evan’s back to avenge his best friend.

Even with these old emotions boiling, Digger finds himself thinking about Edward too. He must be proper narked at him. What if he saw the note? Shit, what if he’s crying right now out of anger and remorse? Harkness cannot count how many times he has seen the man cry in his arms. That incident changed his brain chemistry. For the first few months, Nygma could not move at all. He might as well be strapped to the bed.

His sobs were crushing. His ego, gone. He can recall one night where Edward, eyes bloodshot with tears, stared into him and asked if he still loved him, despite being a burden.

Fuck him, why is that memory surfacing now?

Obviously, he embraced him. He frantically kissed all over his face, proclaiming his undying loyalty to him.

If he left, Edward would not be able to sleep. He would be in a cold empty bed. If he left, there was a possibility that Edward would fall and hurt himself. He would have no one to help him up. If he left, there is a chance that Digger would never hug old Riddler again.

He can hardly see the linoleum he is staring at. He wipes his eyes and sniffles. He looks up and sees that they are in line for the plane. Anxiety grabs him. “Cold, I can’t do this.”

“You’re back out now?” Len hisses. “We’re about to board!”

“Typical, Boomerang.” James scoffs with a mean laugh.

“Shut up. I can’t leave Edward alone. He needs me.”

“Clearly, he doesn’t if you left him. I’m giving you two options, Harkness–”

Digger did not want to hear it. He reels his fist back and decks Cold in the face. “You’ve got no bloody idea what it’s like to have someone who actually wants you around, Snart!” He shouts at him, repressing his desire to kick him in the stomach. “That’s worth more than gold… I’m done ‘ere.”

The Aussie flips him off, turns and directs the gesture towards the rest of the Rogues before grabbing his bag and bolting towards the exit.

Almost crashing into the garage, the van stops and Digger flies out, leaving his luggage inside. He bursts into his house, exhausted from his erratic breathing.

He finds his lover mostly shrouded in darkness aside from the lone lamp on the side table illuminating his back. He is standing before a table adorned with framed photographs. He has one in his hand. And when he jumped and turned to look at him, Digger sees that it is one of his standalones back when he was in his thirties. He wants to sucker punch that Boomerang across the face for encouraging him to leave their man alone like that.

His eyes immediately begin to glisten with tears as a wobbling smile stretches across his face. Love. Strewth, Edward greets him with love. “Digs! You're home...!”

Boomerang hurriedly rushes over to him and he clutches him tightly. His cane collides into the floor with a clatter. Honestly, he was expecting Nygma to hit him but a strike never arises. Edward gasps at the embrace and he returns the hug with equal enthusiasm. Clinging onto the back of his shirt, he dives his nose into his neck.

With his knees shaking, Harkness begins to sob as gravity pulls on him, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I left, Eddy. I shouldn’t have. I’ve been with ya for more than twenty years– I didn’t think I’d even live this long. You’re right. You were right. What’s the point if I don’t… I was so stupid. You should hit me. You told me and I still–”

“I’m not going to hit you, sweetheart.” Edward takes him and lifts his head. “Kiss me?”

Springing up as fast as his wobbly legs can, he obliges and kisses him deeply. He was going to give this up, this intense feeling in his chest whenever Edward touches him, kisses him. That hasn’t died in since they started this relationship. He was a fool to ignore it. His face is so wet.

Riddler keeps him close. “You were stupid… but I am so happy you’re home… I had a feeling you would return but… gracious, there was that nagging part of me that was so worried.”

“All I could think about was you. I even punched Snart for ya." He gives him another kiss. "Auh, I love you so bloody much.”

“I love you so much.” Edward’s voice cracks with laughter as he wipes his tears. “Did you really?”

“Yeah. He was really pissin’ me off. Who bloody cares about ‘em anyway? I wanna settle down with ya, Eddy.” He cups his face. “Can we get married?”

He gasps all daintily. His eyes sparkle. “Married…? Really?”

“I’ll take ya to the courthouse right now if ya want.”

“I-it’s most likely closed at this time but are you serious? Oh, Digger, are you?”

“If you’ll have me,” He slowly kneels onto the ground, caressing his hand. “Edward Nygma, you’ve given me somethin’ money could never get me. Been a drongo not ta see it til now. I love you, Edward. I know what I said about marriage but… I think I’ve been worried for nothin’. Settlin’ down with you? Yeah, that’s much better than possibly dyin’ for the price of gold. Wanna get hitched, Ed?”

He is already nodding. “Yes… Yes!”

Grinning, Harkness surrounds him with his embrace again. “First thing tomorrow?” He laughs feeling him vigorously nod into his shoulder.

Chapter Text

Sleep beckons him as Digger curls up into a ball, clutching his unicorn. It nearly claims him when he hears his phone buzzing on the mattress. Grumbling, he fumbles for the device and swipes the screen without looking.

“Yuh?”

“Did I wake you up, Boomer?” Edward asks, his tone seeping with amusement.

His eyes pop open. “Eddy? Uhh–nah! Nahh, I’m awake. Caught me mid-yawn is all. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. I was about to head to bed and I thought I should call you, tell you goodnight. And I hope you sleep well.”

His mind blanks.

“... Are you there? Hello?”

“Eh, yea, yeah." Boomer props himself onto his elbow. "You alright, Ed?”

“I’m in peak condition if that is what you are referring to.”

“This code or something…? You in Arkham?”

“What?” He remarks in disbelief. “I am simply telling you goodnight.”

He pauses again. “Whhhhy?”

“Digger, do none of your Rogue friends tell you goodnight?”

“I mean, I guess? But I don’t get called to–" He raises his voice slightly, "Why are you tellin’ me goodnight? Ain’t it uh, ten?”

“It’s eleven o’clock. And I just wanted to. Is that not alright?” Edward sounds to be holding off a laugh.

Digger frowns and scrunches up his face. “Sssssuuure? Um. G’night, Ed. Sleep tight?”

“You too, dear.” He hangs up.

Puzzled, the Aussie stares down at his phone that momentarily shows Edward’s icon before reverting back to his busy wallscreen. “... That was weird.”

To his surprise, Edward did it again the next night. Boomerang is less sleepy when he answers this time.

“Ello?”

“Hello, Boomie, how was your day?”

“S’alright.” He knows what’s coming now. “You?”

“I had a nice outing, and scored a few new paintings for myself.”

“Ah, yea? Look at you, not arrested. Surprised ya callin’ me up, figured Batman might be tryna find ya signal or somethin’.”

“Aw, are you concerned for my safety?”

Digger blushes. “Bats is brutal, I know that much… So, yeah.”

“I’m safe, darling.” He reassures him in a low soothing tone.

Why did that give him such bubbles in his chest? “Yeah, good on ya.” He states as coolly as he can. “You callin’ me to tell me goodnight again?”

“How astute. Yes, that is my reason for calling. And to talk to you.”

He rubs his legs together, suddenly unsure of what to do with this energy inside him. “Yeah, ehhh, we uh– the Rogues and I had this huuuuge heist goin’ for us. Went to some, ahh, big shindig in Windsor Heights. Practically loaded!”

“Is that right? I haven’t heard anything about that on the news.”

“Ehhhh, wheeell, ya-ya see, ehhh- they’re real embarrassed about it! All those hoity toity people there, they don’t want anyone to think they’ve lost ‘em valuables! What would the neighbors think, Eddy?”

“Perish the thought.” He giggles, “And yet Flash didn’t do anything?”

“Puh-lease, we were the ones runnin’ circles around him!”

“Of course,” he can hear Edward smiling, making his heart beat faster. “I’m sure he greatly underestimated all of you.”

“Well yeah! Especially me! I gave him a good what for– put me ‘rangs into his stupid red suit. Clipped those dumb wings of his, I did!”

“Mmm, is that so?”

“What? You don’t believe me?” His face is hot to the touch.

“You could send me a photo with these valuables, I think I’d love to see you in them. Rings and necklaces, I’m assuming.”

“Ehhh, yeah! Yeah, well, uh, Cold’s uh, keepin’ them in a secluded place til we can liquify ‘em! Not for wearin’ is what he said.”

He says in mock disappointment, “Mmm, how unfortunate that you can’t access them.” He knows... dammit.

“Eheheh yeah, you know Snart! Real buzzkill, he is.”

“Indeed. It was nice hearing from you, Boomie. I’d like to wish you a good night.”

“Uh, oh! Night, Eddy, don’t let the Bats bite.”

“I won’t. Good night, sleep well.”

“Yeah, you too. Bye.” Once again, he stares down at his phone. “I’m safe, darlin’. You bloody better be…”

Harkness slumps into bed much later than usual. He hunkers down and snatches Pinkie from underneath his pillow. He gives the plush a sniff and brings it to his neck.

Then his eyes popped open.

He checks his phone to see that he has not received any calls from Edward. Shit. SHIT. Batman must have gotten him– wait, don’t jump to conclusions just yet. Call the bastard first.

Cradling the phone, he waits with bated breath as the line rings… and rings… and–

“Hello?”

Relief hits him like an anvil. “Hheyyy, Eddy, uh, you doin’ alright?”

“I am, yes? Is there something wrong?”

“You, ah… it’s past nine and you haven’t called yet so I thought… Mean, guess it's a habit at this point so when ya didn’t call I got worried about cha. Thought you…” He trails off.

“Aren’t you sweet?" He exhales, "No, I… haven’t had the chance to head to bed just yet.”

“Yea? Whutcha got goin’ on? You still hidin’?”

“I am still in hiding, yes. I did tell you that I’m safe. And that fact remains unchanged. I’m keeping myself occupied, nothing you would find engrossing. Me talking about it may put you to sleep.”

“I like hearin’ ya talk…” Digger reassures him softly. Strewth, if his mates heard that, he wouldn't hear the end of it.

“... Do you now?” There’s that smirk.

“Listen, mate, ah, I just called to tell ya g’night like we do everyday, y’know? So, I mean, should I wait for ya to be in bed?”

“No, you don’t need to wait on me. I must ask, though.”

“Uh, whassup?”

“How worried were you about me?”

“Awh, Ed! I-I…” What is with Edward forcing him to show his hand? And by forcing that means just asking a simple question. Yet Boomerang feels compelled to tell the truth. “Heaps. I don’t want ya in Arkham, Eddy. They drug you up in there and… and torture ya!”

“... Do you miss me?” He asks after a pause. He sounds… so dejected. 

“‘Course I miss ya, love. Wouldn’t’ve called ya if I didn’t.”

“I wish you were here with me, darling.”

His heart somersaults. “You do? Really?”

“I’m no stranger to long cons. I enjoy them. However, there are lapses of displeasure I detest.”

“Yeah, I know I bring the pleasure.”

“Hmm.”

Oh. Wrong thing to say. He backtracks. “Ehhh, if I was there, we could uh, um…” His mind blanks completely. “I dunno, play sudoku?”

Nygma snorts. “Sure? I didn’t think you knew what sudoku was?”

“I know sudoku! It’s numbers in a square! It’s easy!”

“Oh?! Color me curious.”

“I’ll color ya whatever you want me to, love.” He purrs.

He gets a scoff that time. Better than a hum on the Riddler Scale™️. He rolls back his shoulders with pride.

“Have a good night, Captain.”

Immediately, his pose delates. “Awww! You goin’ so soon?”

“I’m afraid so.” There he is again trying not to giggle.

“Yeah alright, whatever… G’night. Sleep tight, Ed.”

“You too, darling. Sleep well.”

Stop saying that word. He itches his red face. “Ah–yea, right back atcha… But if ya really want to tell me about what you got goin’ you can.”

He chuckles deep in his chest. “Goodnight.”

“Night!” He quickly hangs up before anything else could fall out of his mouth.

Chapter Text

Digger has never held a gun in his life. The sniper rifle feels weighty in his hands. It’s a good weight, whatever Floyd meant by that…

“Don’t swing it around like that. It’s not a pistol.” Lawton chastises and snatches it out of his hands immediately. “You hold it like this.”

He keeps it close to his chest, pointing the barrel towards the floor.

“Yeah, mate, I got it.”

“Do you?”

Boomerang squints at him. “Wazzat mean?”

Deadshot thrusts the gun back into his hands. “Show me what I just told you.”

“You didn’t tell me shit…” But he does as he is instructed, holding it like a long baby in his arms.

He grunts. “... That’s better. Watch how I stand.” Grabbing the rifle from his back, his entire posture changes. Lawton already stands like he has a stick up his ass but with a gun in his hand, he looks relaxed yet professional. He pauses for quite some time to let Boomer drink in his stance before lining up his shot on the dummy across the room. Digger would be paying attention if his firm buttock wasn’t staring back at him.

Gunfire makes him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Now you.”

“Yeah, ehh, question? Am I supposed to clench me arse like that too?”

He doesn’t have his dumb helmet on so he can see his disgust plain on his face. “Just do the damn pose.” He commands sharply.

Boomer steps closer to the line and tries to remember what all he did. He widens his legs and lowers his head to look through the scope. He can hear Floyd creep closer to him, inspecting him.

“Checkin’ me out, mate?” He can’t help but jest.

“Quit hunching… And don’t over do it with your back. Put your trigger hand in the crook of your other elbow.”

When he hesitates to process what the hell he meant by that, Lawton adjusts his positioning for him. Oh.

“When it comes to aiming, don’t hold it steady.”

“Wut?”

“Your hands will cramp up if you stay still like that. Pan slowly over the target. Then shoot when it's in your scope. One more thing? Don’t pull the trigger. Squeeze it.”

Who is he to question a professional? Loosening his grip, Boomerang carefully maneuvers his rifle until the head of the target dummy is within his sight. He squeezes the trigger and nearly drops the gun from the recoil.

“That…” Floyd chooses his words carefully, “was a good shot, Boomer. Good job.”

Harkness beams. “Hahaaa! That ain’t the only thing I’m good shot at.”

The joke sails over his head as Floyd gives him a confused look. “Yeah?”

“Uhhh... Boomerangs.”

“Right. Your stance needs work. Do it again.” Feeling his eyes on him as he looks him over makes his heartbeat accelerate. “Tighten your glutes.”

“... What’s me glutes?”

Deadshot takes a deep inhale. “Your ass, Boomer.”

Digger smirks. “So I was right?”

“Just do it.”

“Look better now?”

He sighs again. “Take the shot.”

Harkness tightens his grip this time as he gently scans until lining up his shot. The recoil does not hit him in the face this time.

Floyd hums. “Better. Kinda surprised how good you are at that.”

His ears feels hot. “Maybe I should try the assassin business, aye?”

“Don’t push your luck.” He says as a warning.

“Aww, ‘fraid I’ll surpass ya?”

“Figured I should tell you “no” to save you from embarrassment.”

“Auuhh, c’mon, Deadshot, let’s have a match. See who’s fastest. I got these three here,” he gestures with the rifle towards the dummies, “and you got ‘em three.”

“We don’t have time for that. And don’t gesture with a gun. Your finger isn’t even off the trigger. You could have done some damage.”

Digger frowns, glowering at Lawton’s backside as he tries to make distance between them. “It’s just one match! What’s wrong? You scared you’ll lose to a newbie?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Think ya should be.” Without thinking, Boomerang lifts his rifle and sweeps and… takes the shot. The bullet zips by Lawton’s head and hits the wall ahead of him. He grins at his shock. “Nearly clipped ya ear, mate. Should be more careful, yeah?”

Suddenly, Deadshot snatches the barrel of his gun and drives the butt of it into his sternum, forcing out a pathetic wheeze from him as he collapses onto the ground. “Are you stupid?!”

He curls his limbs closer to his body as Floyd aims the end of the rifle at his head. “What?! Thought you’d be impressed!”

Only for a second does his face soften from surprise before returning to a stone stern glare. He raises the gun and Digger yipes, covering his head with his arms. He strikes his shoulder. The burning pain spreads across his back. “Don’t ever do that shit again. You understand?”

He grips his injury, writhing. “Y-yea, yeah, mate, I get it! Bloody hell… did ya have to hit me that hard?”

A gunshot rips through the space. His nose tingles hotly. His eyes water at the stinging steam. Slowly, he looks to see a bullet lodged in the floor an inch– a centimeter rather, off his face. With his breath caught in his throat, he gazes up at Deadshot. His expression would be completely deadpanned if not for the slightly upturn on the corner of his lips.

“And don’t try me.”

“That was… hot.” The words tumble out before he can stop them. “That how ya get sheilas?” He adds on fast to save face.

Floyd raises a brow but says nothing. He takes the gun and walks it back to the wall. “Let’s take a break.”

His limbs feel like jelly and his pants are tightly squeezing him as he stands and wobbles into the bathroom.

One thing is for certain now.

Digger MUST one up him somehow.

Chapter Text

If Guy was to be called anything remotely positive, it would be that he is a connoisseur of dating apps. Is that positive? Or does that make him a whore? Ehh, he’s been called worse. Point being, being a connoisseur means you have eagle eyes when it comes to catfishes. They make it obvious– make it too good to be true. They are either desperate to meet in person (to mug you) or desperate to keep it online only and use AI videos for sob stories to get money out of you that way. Guy enjoys going out of his way to mess with them. They think they got Green Lantern cornered? Boy, were they in for a twist of the century!

This person, though, Jerry from Hoboken. His American accent is a bit off but he claims that he is from the midwest, particularly Ohio. He proved he was from there by sending pictures. Guy reverse image searched them and found only similar photographs. None of them had the man in it though. They were scenic pics and his profile does state that he is an aspiring photographer… Alright. Guy will give him a small pass on that. Midwest accents are weird to begin with.

Speaking of the profile, it’s not tipping off his catfish meter. The profile picture sure isn’t AI generated. That’s a plus. And there are multiple candid shots of him, typical aspiring photographer shit. He is trying to make a pretty picture here. Guy doesn’t know anything about that stuff but he could ease off on the filters. Jerry seems like a real outdoorsy guy, loves sports, their interests align, similar sense of humor, and they were hitting it off. That SHOULD give him all the more reason to be suspicious. Is his emotions getting in the way with this? What if Jerry is a real person who doesn’t care about his money? Perhaps, he needs to turn off his hero brain and actually get into this. Romantically.

He did say he felt lucky that a Lantern was talking to him. Well… yeah. He should.

Ahhh, fuck it, Guy wants to meet him. They've been talking for over three months. Might as well, right? Three is the magic number.

Guy: Sooo… what’re we thinking about meeting up?
Jerry: oh yeah? Am I in danger? You gunna save me from sum aliens?

Guy bites his tongue, smiling.

Guy: That can be arranged, dumpling. How far is Hoboken from Metropolis again?
Jerry: an hour or 2, dependin on traffic
Guy: We can meet half way, you like how that sounds?
Jerry: and what are we gonna do when we meet?

Guy has a few ideas but not everyone is into some intense intimacy on the first date. Jerry has been catching what he throws usually, so… it’s possible.

Guy: I can get us a nice hotel. AND I can get us free room service too.🥂🍜
Guy: Maybe throw in a massage.
Guy: Get steamy in a sauna💦💦
Guy: If you know what I mean😏

He stares at the three dancing dots that… goes on for a lot longer than he expects. Did he go to far again?

Jerry: Maybe after we can take a dip in a pool. Have a coupla drinks while were at it. Your a lantern. They won’t arrest ya for public nudity would they?

Oh my god, he’s perfect. He could… do that… but… the Mr. Terrific in his head starts prattling about “keeping a good image.”

Guy: Unfortunately
Guy: I do have to obey the law
Guy: Sometimes
Guy: But don’t tell anyone🤫🤫🤫
Jerry: Damn
Jerry: I won’t🤐
Guy: But I am loving where your head is. Why bother cooling off though? Let’s get heated.
Jerry: Just stick with the drinks then?
Guy: Do we really need alcohol when we can get wasted on each other?😋
Jerry: Well shit, look at you 😏

He congratulates his own flirting skills by kicking over his trash bin before throwing a few punches to the air.

Jerry: Link me the address, handsome. We goin 2nite?

“Hell yeah, babyyyyy! – That’s too many exclamations, tone it down, Guy. Be cool, be cool… Don’t scare him off now… I should look for a hotel.”

What took long was finding a good enough hotel with a spa that was in between the two cities. But what didn’t take long was getting it all for free. He is the big kahoonah of the Justice Gang, of course he is going to get special treatment. Just mutter the idea that you know Superman and everyone does what you want. So easy to get what you want when you’re a hero, it’s almost criminal!

He already sent the address to Jerry and all he needs to do now is wait. And instead of just waiting at the hotel for him, he went ahead and snatched some flowers. A hotel room should be nicely decorated. It is necessary for a pristine romantic time. Guy rips off the petals and strews them around the room and on the bedspread.

To be honest, he has not felt this excited about a date in a good while. Not since he was a teenager. This feels good. It feels right. He can see them now doing the horizontal tango and laughing the night away. Oh, right. He digs some condoms out of his pocket and slaps them on the bedside table. You never know how many rounds they might go. He grabs the vibrator out of the drawer and places it in plain view… he moves it to the bed and makes a heart shape in condom wrappers around it.

Guy grins, surveying his masterpiece.

His phone buzzes and he nearly drops it. A text! From Jerry!

Jerry: Car’s broken down
Jerry: I can literally SEE the hotel but if I walk it’s gonna take me 40 minutes
Guy: Don’t worry I’ll grab you
Guy: Name the street

Jerry drops his location and without thinking Guy opens the hotel window and flies into the night sky. Within a few minutes, he spots his car parked on the side of the road on an empty street. It looks like he was trying to take a shortcut. Lowering himself to the ground, he is quick to notice that, even though the driver side door is open, there is no driver inside.

“Jerry!” He calls out. Is he behind the car? Underneath it? Did he wander off to go pee and didn’t tell him?

Guy checks his phone and sees that this is in fact the right street.

He hears something whirling behind him, fastly approaching. This is a trap. Someone’s got Jerry and they’re trying to fish out a Lantern! Why not give them a show? Clenching his fist, his ring activates and forms a baseball mitt that catches the hurling object.

“You gotta swing better than that, bud.” He looks down and squints. “Is that a boomerang? Who uses boomerangs?”

A man in a beanie steps out of the shadows, wielding another steel boomerang above his head. Ah ha! A mugger! Before the robber can make another move, the green mitt morphs into a hand that snatches the man up, holding him hostage in the air. He squeals in fear and squirms aimlessly.

“Alright, wise guy, where’s Jerry?”

The mugger gives him a mean grin. “Aww, mate, haven’t clocked it yet?”

“What?”

“Yer lookin’ at him.” He slips into that weird American accent. “Aww, Guy, I think you’re the one… Hah! You bloody galah!”

“You… You can’t be Jerry from Hoboken. You’re British!”

“OI! I’m Australian! And I take pride in it ya bastard! Don’t bloody call me a pom!”

His brain is practically buzzing with confusion “Wait, wait… hold on! I was catfished?!”

“Did it take ya that long to realize, mate?”

The great connoisseur of dating apps… Guy feels somewhat numb. “… I don’t understand. You sounded so authentic.”

“Yeah, that’s how I get ‘em. I am actin’ like myself on there, just American.”

“Ahhhh, just a minute, let me get this straight.” Conflicting emotions fight for control within his mind. “You were telling the truth? You’re a big sports fan?”

The Aussie shrugs. “Yeah, I got favorites but I like most of ‘em.”

“And… you like Depeche Mode? Nine Inch Nails? Slipknot? Metallica? … Mitski?”

“Ah-huh?” His brow quirks up. “Listen to ‘em all the time.”

“Nothing else? Nothing on your profile was a lie?”

After a moment’s thought, he shakes his head, “Ahhh, the photography shit but that’s about it. Couldn’t get the stupid flamin’ AI to make a person look real, so I took pics of some rando.”

“What about our texts? I thought we were really hitting it off. We would be on call until the sun rose…”

His eyes shift around. “Mate, have ya never been lied to before? I was toilin’ with ya. Called a long con, ever heard of it?”

Some big emotions are swelling up in Guy’s heart right now that he is not sure what to do with. He lowers his fist and gingerly eases the robber to the earth.

He expected him to start running but he doesn’t. He stands there awkwardly, gawking at him like he is crazy. “What’re ya doin’?”

Gardner cannot believe what he is about to say himself. “I think we can make this work.”

His mouth opens wide. “Whaaa…? I just tried to mug ya!”

“I don’t carry a wallet. I don’t need to anymore.”

“Teh, lucky you.”

“But I’m willing to look past this only if you decide you wanna continue our date.”

“Mate…” Great, he has that tone that every one of his dates get when they try to let him down easy. “This ain’t gonna work… in a dynamic way. You’re a hero and I… uh, rob banks and pilfer pockets. I’ve been in prison more than once.”

Guy hums, crossing his arms. He takes another look at the mugger, assessing his attire and hair. Honestly? He looks homeless. “Are you poor?”

He flops his arms. “Why else would I be doin’ this shit, mate?”

Ah. That he gets. “Well…”

“And if yer about to flamin’ tell me to get a job, yew can stuff it! You think I haven’t tried!? Not exactly a legal citizen…”

So, he’s similar to Supes in a way. “I can help with that.”

The Aussie scoffs with a laugh. “Can ya now?”

“It’s what the Justice Gang does! Help the needy. You know, I used to be a social worker before I became a Lantern.”

“You serious? Wait, just…” He puts his hands up, backing off. “Why the bloody hell are ya carin’ so much about me? I led you on! And yer just gonna…?” He flubs his hands around in vague gestures before they fall limp. “I don’t get it.”

“I…” Guy glances around. “Listen, I never talk this serious ever. So. I’m only going to say this once. I’ve been on the apps. Practically all of them. It’s not a great feeling, you know? Constantly failing to find someone to click with and when we started talking...”

“Ahh, you poor drongo. I was lyin’ to ya to get some cash.” His eyes look away again as he speaks.

Guy purses his lips. “And there’s another thing. I don’t think that’s true.”

“Mate–” He motions at the boomerang.

“Let me finish! That was your end goal, that’s for certain. But you keep looking away and fidgeting. I don’t think you can lie to my face.” Gardner smirks. “You fell for me.”

His eyes widen a fraction before he collects himself. He fights for eye contact for only two seconds before ultimately glancing away again. “... Shave yer head and I’ll think about it.”

“Okay, seriously, what is wrong with my haircut?! Everyone keeps talking about it online and making fun of me! It’s a good look! I’m making it look good! I’m bringing them back in style!”

He smirks, his shoulders shaking as he holds back a laugh. “You sure about that, mate?”

Guy inhales deeply. “You’re getting me off topic on purpose. You like me, I know you do. Let me ask you this, Jerry–”

“Name ain’t Jerry. It’s Captain Boomerang.”

“Are… you actually calling yourself that?”

He jerks. “What?! It’s cool!”

The Justice Gang is cool. That name isn’t. “Give me your legal name.”

He glowers. “... Nah.”

“Okay, Captain Boomerang,” Guy rolls his eyes. “Why aren’t you trying to get away? Your plan failed and you’re still talking to me.”

Captain Boomerang falters as if just realizing that himself. He looks behind him, then at the car, then back at Lantern. “I dunno.”

“See? I think there’s something there and I wanna make it bloom.” He struts over and takes Boomerang by the wrist. “And after, I can help you be a law abiding citizen.”

“Yeah?” He scoffs again, grinning with narrowed eyes. “Sorry, mate, but I don’t break easy.”

He tries to rip himself out of his hold but Gardner has a mean grip. Guy leans forward, returning the grin that stretches from ear to ear. “I like a challenge.” He purrs and grabs him by the hip.

He can feel his heart racing through his hand. His big green eyes seem to dazzle in excitement. He watches his Adam’s apple bob and his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip. Actually, he is cuter than the guy he used in the app. He has some curls going for him and hair, freckles, and sun damage all over his face. He smells masculine, dripping with natural musk, sweat, and cologne, which spins Guy’s gears. Green Lanterns don’t beg but if this Aussie said no… he might have to get on his knees.

“You know what?” Boomerang finally speaks. “Think I’d like to see ya try, Guy.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.” Gardner takes the Aussie’s arm and wraps them around his waist. “Hang on tight.” He says with a wink and ascends into the air.

Boomerang squawks, clinging with his legs too as they soar over the city. His whimpering pulls on his heart strings slightly but Guy snickers.

“Not a fan of heights?”

“Nnnoo…” He whines, ducking his head into his chest.

His fingers curl gently around the hair below his beanie while his other hand holds his lower back. “Why don’t I get us more comfortable?” He whispers into his ear. Pride swallows him, hearing his breathing hitch. Out from his glowing ring, a recliner appears behind them and Guy settles down upon it with Captain Boomerang in his lap. “Ain’t this nice?”

The Aussie leans far away from the edge, huddling closer to Lantern who takes this opportunity to squeeze him. He curls his legs in and presses himself further into Guy. “Yeah, it’s, eh, it’s better…” He swallows dryly.

“You’re holding onto a hero, baby.” Guy rubs his thigh. “I think the word you’re looking for is fantastic.” He leans to the side and pulls on the level to kick up the leg rest, which makes Boomer squeak in surprise. He makes such cute noises. “So, why boomerangs?”

With his hand firmly on his shoulder, he tries to regain any composure left within him. “Cuz I’m good at ‘em. Been usin’ karlis since I was a wee tike.”

His eyes gravitate, exploring over his body. He watches as the Aussie pulls down on his ruffled up shirt to cover his pudgy belly. For that fleeting moment, he saw reddish hair trailing to his nethers. Before his mind grows too dizzy with arousal, he shoves the thought aside. There are more pressing matters to discuss first. “So, how big is the boomerang you’re packing?”

His astonishment leaves him quick as he smirks. “Got size twelve boots if that means anythin’ to ya. You?”

“Size ten but I’m a grower.” His fingers itch to feel the skin underneath his pants. “You know, you look way better than the guy you used on your profile.”

Boomer blinks. His eyes flutter to and fro. “Uhh– I-I mean, pffeh, yeah. I know.”

The Aussie has a habit of lying, he is noticing. He seemed a lot more confident in text than he is in person. Though, this is going against what he normally does with catfishes. Boomer is very put off by his advances and yet going along with it at the same time.

His curiosity grows. “You’ve been doing this for a while? Catfishing?”

“Ehh, coupla months. Been doin’ it to lay low for a bit.”

“You’re a wanted man right now?”

“Technically, yeah. Robbed a few places in Gotham before gettin’ outta there. I didn’t want my tail caught by that Bat.”

Oh yeah, that weirdo. “And you go by Captain Boomerang? … Can’t say I’ve heard the name before.”

His lips pucker into a pout and he turns his head.

“What?”

“Means I ain’t goin’ big e’nuff. I’m tryna get some respect, mate.”

That is something they can talk more about later. A good fuck can change any man’s mind. The chair carefully lowers onto the ground. Boomer involuntarily yipes when it wobbles on the cement. He quietly curses at himself.

“You okay?” Guy asks, trying to meet his gaze.

He can see the Aussie blushing now with the tungsten lights illuminating them. “Been actin’ like a bloody wuss. It ain’t a turn off for you?”

That is something Guy understands: the constant fight of masculinity. “It’s not a turn off.” He says truthfully. “I had a handsome man clinging onto me for a few minutes. I got to huff your smell all the way here.” He shrugs. “Big turn on if you ask me. Like how you take a lady to see a scary movie so she’ll cling on ya.”

“Ain’t a girl.”

“Wasn’t calling you one, pumpkin.”

“Pumpkin?” His sharp teeth striptease him by slightly poking out as his lips curl back.

“You got red hair and a big toothy smile like a Jack O’ Lantern. Got big eyes too.”

He blinks them fast as he processes the compliment. He gazes down at where his hand is and slowly adjusted his position on the chair, swinging his legs to the side but not standing up yet. “It’s, uh, Digger, by the way.”

“What?”

“Name’s Digger Harkness. Figured you should scream a name than be shoutin’ about a boomerang.” His smirk ignites something strong in his chest.

Guy inches to the edge and leans into the Aussie, placing his hand on the arm of the chair. “How about I call you Digs so I don’t get misquoted on the news?”

Digger barks a laugh. “Fair ‘nuff.”

“You wanna hit the spa, Digs?”

“Never done a spa before.”

“Hohhhho, man, it’s so nice. You’re gonna love it!”

From what Guy can tell, Digger is loving it. He is practically a pool of his former self on the massage bench. He nearly fell asleep. He flinches away when they try to put a face mask on him. But seeing Guy take one, he stops putting up a fight. Digger does not quite know how to sit still. He is always bouncing a leg or tapping his finger as he idly looks around. Gardner is quick to invite him into conversation. He hates silence too.

As it turns out, Jerry from Hoboken really is just a mask that Harkness wore. Guy cannot help thinking about the nights they spent staying up late just talking as Digger rants and laughs. He likes his laugh. It’s harsh on the ears and he is prone to wheezing. Damn attractive.

Guy has to bite his lip when they enter the sauna. There were two elderly men already inside. No funny business now unless he wants to end up at the butt end of Holt’s lectures again. Anything to avoid that… He cannot stop looking at Digger though. He finally looks relaxed again, no fidgeting or anxious glances. His eyes are closed and his arms rest on the top of the bench. Digger has an immaculate dad bod. His eyes keep drifting down to his belly. Guy wants to bite it like a dog bites down on a snake, slap it, lick his cum off of it. If those old men weren't here, he would take both of their dicks in his hands…

“So, this is the body of a Green Lantern, aye?”

His towel definitely has a tent. He adjusts his legs accordingly and looks up at Harkness’ smug expression.

His face heats up. He knows he has a muffin top that he can’t seem to get rid of. He is bringing it back in style… “You got a problem with it?”

The Aussie shakes his head. “Not a bit. I like it.” He gives it a courtesy slap just to watch it jiggle.

Guy feels like he is edging towards exploding. He wants to climb on him and– he needs to breathe. He laughs alongside him in order to ease the tension in his own chest.

Gardner manages to keep his cool when they finally FINALLY head to their hotel room. Their shirts draped over their arms, Digger follows him through the hall to the near end. Guy takes the key out of his pocket before pausing.

“What? Wrong room?”

“No.” He turns and hands him the card. “You do it.”

“Ah, shit.” He takes it and sighs goodnaturedly, “Guy, what am I aboutta see?”

“You’ll like it.”

He looks anxious again but he perseveres, swiping the key through the slot and pushing the door open. He stops it from bouncing back with his foot as he stares at the flowers all over the floor. “What the hell did you do?” He inquires through a nervous laugh.

“Keep going.” Guy commands softly and slaps him on the rear.

He stumbles past the bathroom and he peers into the bedroom. “Pfffff–HAA! What is this?!”

That isn’t the reaction he wanted. His heart stops for a moment, watching Digger.

“Mate, you can’t be serious! A flamin’ heart–? Hhhahaha!”

“What’s so funny about it?”

“It’s so stupid! This is a joke, right? This can’t be real.”

His jaw is tight. “Digger, I did all this for you.”

“Mate–” His smile slowly falters the longer he stares at his crestfallen face. He looks to the bed again in silence. “... I just thought it was all… I didn’t think we’d actually…”

Guy closes himself off, crossing his arms. “What, you think I was just playing with the idea of dating you?”

“Dating me? Not just fuckin’ me and we move on? Have a smoke and just…” He waves his hand. He leans back on the TV stand. “Thought you said date cuz you couldn’t think of another word for messin’ around. Talked to me like that cuz you needed ya dick stroked.”

“Oh…” His lack of confidence and the way he carries himself, Gardner completely understands where he is coming from. Letting his arms fall to his sides, he takes the place beside him. He clicks his tongue. “You thought wrong.”

“Yeah, I’m gettin’ that picture. Feel like a huge arsehole.”

“If you ask me, I think this is salvageable.”

He deflates a little. “I think yer givin’ me too many chances, Guy... No one’s ever treated me like this before.”

“It’s more than just that, dumpling.” Forcing eye contact, he places his hand on top of his. “Bit of a strange concept but I think it’s called love. Convinces you to do some weird shit.”

Harnkess snorts, shaking his head. “Think ya got a point, love. That haircuts growin’ on me.”

“It always does.” He chuckles, biting down on his lip. “You wanna continue this?”

Digger is faster than he expects. The next thing Guy knows is that he is pinned up against the wall with his hands over his head. His back is not the only thing throbbing either. A moan softly tumbles out.

“You look good like this.” He breathes into his open mouth before sealing him with a kiss. Since his hands are trapped, Gardner hikes his leg up and over Boomer’s hip. His free hand glides across his chest and he rubs his thumb into his nipple, eliciting a more provocative groan.

“Does Green Lantern like takin’ it up the arse?”

It definitely feels big, pressed up against his thigh. He rocks subtly into him. “I do… but not without a fight.”

“You wanna tussle?” He asks breathlessly, his eyelids fluttering. “Least make it fair, love. Take off the ring.”

With trembling hands, he rips his ring off and lets it fall to the ground. Digger releases his grip and Guy immediately tackles him onto the bed.

Chapter Text

Jolting out of his sleep, Digger lets out a startled grunt like his tail was stepped on. With his heart pounding in his eardrums, he surveys the room. Around him are green walls, adorned with stolen paintings. There is a wide closet to the right side of the room. A dresser sits in front of him that houses a TV, shelves surround it covered with books that have all been read once by the only person in the house who finds reading enjoyable. The bed under him and the blankets are soft and silky in texture, providing a nice cooling sensation to his hot skin. Harkness glances to his left where Riddler lays on his back, his head lopped to the side and just barely resting on the pillow. Just seeing Edward all peaceful and sweet looking in his sleep settles his heartrate significantly. His hair is a mess, swooping this way and that. It clings onto his skin and curls just so at the very end, like his eyelashes. He has one small freckle on his neck that stares back at him.

Boomer leans down and gingerly plants a kiss there.

Edward lets out a small exhale in reply and shifts ever so slightly. But he does not wake. Better to let him sleep.

Carefully, Digger makes very little movements as he hauls himself out of bed. His lover can be a very light sleeper. That, without fail, leads to semi-awake cuddles when he returns from his late night bathroom run.

It is particularly hot tonight, however. He doubts Edward wants to be held right now. The blankets rest below his hips and the fan is on him. Sometimes, he wakes up to bring the sheets back over him. Looks like he is fairly warm tonight.

Finally on his feet, Boomerang creeps through the room and into the bathroom without as much as a squeak from the floorboards. After doing his business, he suffers through a minor dilemma. Waking up Edward by flushing the toilet or Edward reprimanding him for not flushing in the morning…

He stares for a moment longer before ultimately deciding to take the scolding. To be honest, Digger has a hankering to be alone. He can snag a beer and sit outside for a few minutes. Try to forget about that dream that still has sweat crawling down his spine. He can’t, though. He just needs something within his control. He needs to be alone so he doesn’t feel like a burden. He needs to drink to feel something cold in his palms. He needs to drown his anxieties in liquor. He needs to numb his brain.

There are some things that Riddler can’t fix.

He can’t fix the sins that haunt and torture him.

Sighing, he slowly pulls on the door and squeezes himself out of the opening. There should be a tinnie in the cooler that he has hidden in the garage for such occasions.

“You didn’t flush.” His voice seeps out of the darkness.

Digger jumps about three feet in the air, spewing out profanities like his life depended on it. He gasps and wheezes as he clings onto the doorframe, his legs shaking.

“Gracious.” Edward states, deadpanned. “That was… more colorful than usual.”

“If I hadn’t already went… Fuckin’ hell, Eddy. You tryna kill me?!”

“I deeply apologize.” He sounds somewhat sincere. His curiosity is winning over concern. “You didn’t wash your hands either.”

“I was tryin’ not to wake ya up, love.”

“I woke up the moment I felt you gone from the bed.”

Dammit, how is he supposed to get a tinnie now? Grumbling, he trudges back into the bathroom, flushes the toilet, and washes his hands. He returns to the hall, looking into the dark bedroom.

“Why are you just standing there?" He inquires with confusion. "Come back to bed.”

He wonders if Riddler can see him trembling. “I just need a second, Ed.”

Maybe if he hurries outside, Edward won’t feel obligated to follow. Oh, who is he kidding? Edward is like a wild animal. He chases when his prey bolts. Digger decides to walk to the screen door anyway. Already, he hears ruffling behind him and a flurry of footsteps. His hand just barely raises towards the handle when Nygma grabs him.

“Boomie?” The worry is front and center now. He touches his face, gently urging him to meet his eyes. His lips tug down and his brows raise. Uh oh. “Boomie, are you sick?”

“Do I look that bad?”

“You look dreadful. What’s wrong? Did you get too hot?”

“Nah, Digger doesn’t get...” Why is he trying? He doesn’t have the energy for this. He throws away the facade. “Had a nightmare. I was gonna have a tinnie, get some fresh air… try to cool down.”

His hand falls from his face to his chest, where he aimlessly rubs his pec. “How about instead of alcohol… I make you something?”

“Like what?”

“A smoothie? Oh, don’t make that face. You know I’ll blend it to perfection.”

Boomer cannot help but smile at that. “Alright.”

Relaxing a little, Edward leans and pecks him on the cheek. “You relax. I’ll be there in a moment.”

He watches him leave, mesmerized by his hips elegantly swaying as he moves. Everything is so practiced, dramatic, and theatric with him. A die-hard theater kid who is completely lost in the thrall of his own hubris.

“I love you.” He says without thinking.

“I love you too!” Riddler returns, gleefully.

Somehow, he has room in his heart for an Aussie bogan.

Hmm… maybe Edward can heal him. He chuckles at that. Stepping outside, humidity envelopes him in a warm wet embrace. He groans at it in complaint. Regardless, he sits down on the wicker sofa and props his feet up on the glass table.

Even from out here, he can hear that loud ass blender. It is drowning out his thoughts, that is for certain. The area Nygma placed his hand still tingles and his heart accelerates at the memory of just his hand. His soft slender hand that aches to swing his cane at Batman moves so sweetly, brimming with affection as he strokes his skin. His face feels warm. God, what is he? A virgin? He shouldn’t blush over something so simple.

Digger smirks to himself. That’s what love is, he supposes. Small things like that feel as big as the world.

Soon, he hears the bug screen rattle to the side. Edward, only in a tank top and boxer briefs, leaves him breathless as he sits down beside him with two drinks in his hand.

“This one is for you.”

“Ta.” He leans in and gives him a kiss.

His face lights up. “Oh! Are we feeling better already?”

“Hard not to stay glum when yer around, love.” His arm rests on the top of the couch so he can technically have his arm around him without touching their equally sticky skin. He sips the smoothie and is hit with a flavorful blast of oranges and peaches. “Shit, that’s good.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Riddler, too, places his feet on the table and rests his head on his arm.

Hell yeah.

Harkness presses the cold glass to his face. Instead of gazing up at the stars like Nygma, he stares at him. He has already memorized his face structure, every wrinkle, skin discoloration, counted the hairs on his chin and cheeks multiple times… Call him obsessed. He knows Edward does the same with him.

“You're giving me that look, dear.”

He blinks. “What look?”

“You obtain what I can only describe as a very puppy dog expression just before you are about to say something incredibly sweet.”

He is so smart. All the damn time. Does he ever get tired of it? “I just… I feel lucky.”

“Aww, there it is.” He places his hand on his thigh covered by his briefs and keeps it there. “Though, I must protest. This isn't luck, Digs. I don't give my love away to just anyone.”

“S’why I feel lucky… Feel like I won the lotto.”

His smile grows, his eyes crinkle. “You’re so sweet.”

“It’s true. Figured you’d get sick of me at some point.” He sucks down two gulps of his smoothie.

“Your shenanigans occasionally annoy me but… what is love without compromise?”

“Think yer the sweet one here, Eds.”

His eyelids flutter at the compliment. “I do my best…” He stirs the straw. “I… want to be what’s best for you.”

“That ain’t somethin’ you need ta worry about.”

“Digs, if neither of us try, this relationship would not work.”

“... From my end, you make it look effortless.”

He is blushing. It is too dark to see the red but that fluster he is vying to restrain is peaking through.

“You’re adorable, Eddy.”

He lets out a laugh disguised as a sigh. “You’re still the sweet one.”

“My life’s better with you in it. Can’t deny that fact.”

“And here you are! Still going. And I have yet to compete.”

“Don’t need to. Even with me annoyin’ shenanigans as you call it, I still get to be with ya every night.”

“Why would I ever kick you out of my house?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Might get proper narked off one day. Wouldn’t blame ya for it. We’ve gotten pretty close.” He takes another sip and hums. “This is so good…”

“Arguments happen but… I wouldn’t be so remiss to throw you out.” Edward shifts closer and places his lips on his jaw. “I enjoy your company."

With every kiss, every touch is a new bloom of love in his heart. Humming, Digger nuzzles his face with his nose that he keenly returns. He leans over and grabs his legs and brings them over his lap. Then Boomer pulls him closer with his arm and kisses his oily forehead. Riddler grins in reply, chuckling through his nose.

He holds his drink close to his chest. The condensation drips down and lands on his top, directing the Aussie' attention to his small chest. He can see his nipples poking out.

“It’s too hot for cuddling, darling.” Yet he doesn’t move.

“Yeah? And?” He presses his glass onto Edward’s belly, making him jump and his legs and shoulders shoot up. “Betcha cold now.”

Riddler pushes his hand away and glares. “You–! You’re such a…”

“Aww, thought I was a sweetheart?” He snickers with a toothy grin.

Oh no, his Riddler gears are turning. Before he can react, Edward opens his legs and puts the bottom of his glass onto Digger’s groin. Right on his dick.

His entire body clenches as chills consume him. He nearly spills his smoothie all over the cushions. His cry might have woken the neighbors. Thankfully, Nygma tears the drink away after another second. Whining, he presses his legs together. “Eddyyyy! That was bloody dirty…!”

“Aww… thought you liked dirty.” He teases back, returning his mean smile.

“Yer a bastard.” He glances down at his exposed sides.

Edward quickly covers them with his elbows. “Don’t you dare.”

“Ohoho, Eddy, you know I’ll do it when ya least expect it.”

“And after I worked so hard on this drink, this is how you return the gesture?” He has such an endearing pout. “Threatening to tickle me?”

It fuels him to act on impulse. Digger tilts his head to the side and kisses his lips. Riddler releases a surprised mh! inside his throat but he returns the kiss, nonetheless. He must have that puppy dog expression on him again for he sinks into his embrace. His eyes soften and his lashes flutter.

“I can’t help wondering what I’ve done in order to be given such a loving face.”

His brows arch slightly as he thinks. “... You love me back?”

“You’re an acquired taste.” Edward whispers as he lovingly pets his beard, lulling him into a trance like state. “But after the initial swallow... and maybe more than a few swallows, you are very easy to love... Careful, Boomie! Don't drop your drink.”

He takes the smoothie from him and places both of theirs on the table before diving his hands into his mutton chops and scratching away, much to Digger's delight.

Chapter Text

“Awww, look-it him!” Harley snatches the little keychain of Riddler from Cash, catching Boomerang’s attention away from the new weapons. He shoulders in and cranes his neck with furrowed brows. She coos. “What a cutie! He looks nothing like the real deal though.”

“That’s Riddl-ah?” Digger queries.

“S’posed to be.”

“I resent that comment, Quinn.” Edward’s sudden appearance makes one out of the two of them jump. Riddler stands behind them, hands clasped together on his back and smiling eerily, especially towards the flailing Aussie. He rarely comes out of his cave – “lair” – that is underneath the Hall of Justice next to Gizmo's shop.

“Don’t do that!” Boomer shouts, sneering.

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, Captain.” He purrs like a cartoon snake.

Harley ignores their one sided banter. “You resent it, huh?” She holds up the keychain to his face. “Where’d ya glasses go, huh?”

“They weren’t prescription glasses, Harleen.” He replies, coolly. “They were to elevate my stylish attire.”

“Yeah, what happened to that?” Digger asks, seemingly innocent, despite the glare he is receiving. “What?”

“I got into vehicles. Suits and grease do not exactly mix, Harkness.”

The Aussie nods in long intervals. “Riiiight, right…”

“And you ain’t a brunette no more. Dyed your hair to hide the age? You do got a lot of wrinkles goin’ for ya.”

Boomer lets out a short chortle. The intensity of Riddler’s wild eyed stare trips him up and he coughs into his arm and clears his throat.

The glare does not phase her. “You kinda look more like a wet cat.”

His gray eyes narrow. His shoulders pull backwards as if poised to strike and hisses sternly. “Thank you for that unauthorized critique of my appearance."

“Sure! S’what friends are for, Eddy. Somebody’s gotta keep ya humble.”

Edward draws back, his once curled lips puckering and tugging down. Ever since that talk with Joker, he has become more… friendly is a poor choice of words but he currently attempts to offer himself as “relatable” to the “help.”

Boomer smirks as Riddler struggles with his words. “Yo– uh, of course, yes. Friend.” He uses all of his teeth on that word, coming off as more of a sneer than a smile.

“Yeahhh, you’re gettin’ it, bud!” Grinning, she slaps him on the shoulder, which jostles him out of his meticulous stance. “Hey, Boomer, you want this?”

Before he could answer, Harley tosses the keychain at him and he catches it after the second ascension from his own hands. It is surprisingly soft. He presses his finger into his face and the material gradually restores its shape. Looking at the little man again, there is a twinge of adoration in his chest for the cute design and the happy smile on his tiny face. Innocent is a word no one should use to describe Riddler but this little thing seemingly showcases a side of him Digger finds endearing. Righto, you win this one then, Eddy. Harkness grabs his shotgun and unhooks the golden boomerang keychain from the side. The boomerang will look nicer on his sniper rifle anyway. After a moment’s struggle with the stupid clasp slipping off of his thumb, Riddler swings from the weapon, his smile ever present. Yeah, he likes it there. A warm glow blooms in his stomach.

“Huh.”

Boomerang, again, cries out in astonishment. Harley may be gone but the Riddler did not move.

And Edward recoils at his outburst with knitted thin brows and a perplexed face. “I didn’t leave?!” His bewildered gaze does not wane. “Your attention span and lack of self awareness amaze me… And no, that’s not a good thing.”

“Shaddup!” Digger barks back. “You… just shut up!”

“What a comeback.”

“Auhhh, you– you should be flattered that I’m puttin’ ya on me gun!”

“Flattered?” He echoes with a laugh that quiets down quickly. “Why did you?”

For a moment, Boomer just gawks as a lie refuses to surface into his head. “Uhhh, I mean, Harley ain’t wrong? It’s a cute lil bugger. In an, ahhh, ugly sorta way.”

Of course, Edward does not fall for that bait for a microsecond. “And you want something ugly cute on your gun? That seems uncharacteristic of you.”

“Bloody Hell, I just like it, alright?! Yer head’s big ‘nuff as is, mate! They got that part right with ya look ‘ere.”

“My head is well proportioned for that small body.”

“No, it ain’t.”

Instead of a childish retort, Nygma grins. His scraggly damp hair sways with his steps as he closes the distance between them. Instead of making distance, Digger leans away and tightly grips his gun. He reeks of motor oil and a tint of sandalwood just underneath. His mouth starts watering.

Joker did the same thing to him when he first arrived but it was WAY creepier and he did it because he finds joy in making him uncomfortable. Riddler, on the other hand, studies you like he is peering through a microscope until he finds what he is looking for. With his breath in his throat, Harkness watches his inquisitive eyes survey his face and soon Edward gains a self-satisfied gleam.

“Do you think I’m cute, Captain?” Innocently, he asks.

“Said ugly cute.” He corrects, swallowing.

“Mmmhm. Well?”

His nose scrunches up and his upper lip lifts up like a dog giving a warning before biting. He doesn’t bite, however. Edward may be a threatening presence but the tension between them does not tilt towards violence. Boomer is a small bug and Riddler towers over him with a giant magnifying glass. The glass emphasizes his sharp jaws and protruding cheekbones, giving him a catlike appearance, actually.

“Maybe that wet cat look’s doin’ something for me.” He admits softly, his gaze drifting down to his scruff around his lips... or is that dirt?

Edward does not draw away. His smile somehow widens further, showcasing his crow's feet. His smug meter teeters dangerously high and his voice reflects that. “My, how shockingly honest.”

“Sod off–” When the thought of pulling the trigger enters his mind, a horrible spark of pain electrocutes his brain from the base of his skull. After a yelp, he clutches his shotgun and his head, gritting his teeth.

“Were you thinking about shooting me? Tsk, tsk, Captain, I supposed that is what they call ‘cuteness aggression.’” He giggles at his own joke, his hand half covering his lips

Boomer cannot think of anyone else who would find attempted murder hilarious. Maybe Joker… His stench is making his head spins. He needs to get this conversation back into his favor.

“Just tellin’ ya what you obviously wanna hear, mate…”

“Mmm, obviously.”

Okay, that didn’t do it. His hand fondles his pockets until he pulls something out. He looks down– oh yeah, he forgot he had a keychain of his own likeness in there. Beaming, he holds it out to him. “‘Ere!”

Edward blinks, his eyes following the swing of the chain. “A keychain of you?”

“Yeah, friends give each other keychains. If I got one of ya, you might as well get one of yer mate Digger, aye?”

Entrapping him with the friend card, oh yeah. His face twists yet he holds out his hand. Boomer drops the trinket into his palm. Finally, he steps back and holds it up in the light. He tilts his head and flips the doll over.

“I must say, it is much cuter than the person it is based on.”

“Oi! Don’t think that was a must!”

“Keeping you humble. That is what friends do, yes?” Riddler doesn’t lift his head when he looks at him with such a penetrating gaze and smarmy smirk. That falls apart fast, however. As he turns the trinket over again, his face softens. “I am not often given gifts… It shall be cherished and placed where it will be seen from all angles.”

“Shit, really? Wasn't expectin' that.”

“I will find a way to thank you later.” Spinning on his heels, he saunters back to the elevator to his floor…

Digger is immediately drawn to his ass poking out from his question mark button up…

That looks cute too.

“I saaaaw thaaaat.” Joker’s voice from inside the glass unit sends his hair straight up.

Boomer whirls around and scurries away with locked elbows.

Chapter Text

With October well on its way and the temperature steadily decreasing, carnivals begin to pop up near the shores of Metropolis, taking advantage of the water for haunted shipwreck tours.

“It’s just one boat ride, pumpkin.” Guy attempts to pull his date, Digger, towards the line but the Aussie tugs back. He smirks, raising a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“I-I ain’t scared!” Harkness barks. “I hate water! And I get sea sick!”

He snorts. “Pfff, excuses–”

Finally, Digger manages to escape his hold as the terrain gives him no purchase. He nearly falls on his ass. He bristles. “I bloody mean it, Guy! I’m not goin’ out there!”

Oh shit, his face is red. This is no longer playful. Guy approaches him slowly. “Heyyy, I was just messing with you. It’s not gonna be sexy getting your lunch on me.”

His nose scrunches up like a dog smelling something rank. “How is a boat ride sexy?”

Gardner hooks their arms together, reclaiming his hold and squeezing him. They walk off the sand. “It’s in the dark for one. We would sit in the back of the boat. All the shit would be in the front or beside the excursion boat. Have no reason to check where we are.”

“Ain’t that illegal, Mr. Green Lantern?” Digger smiles slyly.

“Only if you get caught.” Since his hand is occupied, he uses his foot to smack Harkness on the ass and he hits his left cheek. An involuntary shout erupts from his throat and he retaliates with a jab.

Tents and pop up shops block the bitter wind coasting from the ocean. Guy and Digger stop a few times to partake in the scammy carnival games. The moment the operators see Green Lantern approach, their grins dive into frowns along with their polite attitude. Pride preens in his chest as Guy constructs a bat from his ring and sends the ball sailing into the milk bottles that were bolted into the table. The customers paid hard earned dollars to enjoy the carnival. They should be able to win prizes.

In fact, a crowd gathered around the lantern, growing bigger the more he interacted with the games. Ring toss became a breeze with the helpful green hand placing the plastic circles on the impossible to reach yellow peg. With each win, he gave the plushes away to the once crestfallen children.

Of course Guy is going to make a spectacle out of himself. Honestly, Digger likes that about him. It is a completely selfish endeavor but he always turns it around. He wouldn’t act this way in a battle. With so many children watching him, Gardner is more than willing to earn brownie points for “The Justice Gang,” as he claims. Boomer can see right through him. The man wants to be just as popular as Superman.

He gets it, wholeheartedly.

Guy takes the rifle off of the wooden mount and weighs it with his arms. His lips pucker up as he hums.

“It’s only a toy, Mr. Lantern.” The operator explains. Sweat shines on his bald head despite the chilly night.

“Yeah, exactly. It’s a crappy toy too.” He shakes the gun and the pellets inside rattle in reply. Tilting the rifle, balls roll towards the muzzle and clink. Nothing falls out. “They’re too big.”

Guy positions the gun upright and listens again. He checks the muzzle. “See here? The ball got stuck.”

In an act of showmanship, he spins around and shows the present crowd the trapped pellet.

“Now watch.” He squeezes the trigger and there is a sharp ping of metal against metal but nothing fires out of the rifle. “See? Nobody can win with trash like this.” He tosses the gun onto the countertop. “But it’s a good thing I brought my own.”

A green rifle materializes in his hands and he widens his stance. Boomer’s eyes are immediately drawn to his legs and the curve of his ass just before excited children swarm around Lantern. He always wears that damn uniform on their dates but right now… it is definitely doing something for Digger.

“Cover your ears, kiddos, it’s gonna get loud.” The gingerness in his tone drastically alters as he addresses the man behind the bar. “Hey. Start up the game.”

Another bead of sweat runs down the operator’s head. Harkness slams his fist into the bar. “Oi. He said ‘start it up!’”

Frazzled, he presses the button and the wild west music plays as targets begin crossing the cardboard desert. Child’s play. Guy destroys every slow moving plate. When the last few golden targets suddenly pop out just outside of the field, he flicks over and – POW POW POW – hard plastic shatters just as the timer rings.

With furrowed brows, Gardner grins, “High score of the night. Think that means I win multiple prizes, right, kids?!”

The children bounce up and down, cheering.

“Just take whatever you want…” The operator begins backing away towards the opening of the tent.

“He’s tryna get away, mate. Want me to stop him?”

“Eh. And I’ll get him later. I’m busy on a date.” He unhooks another big bunny and hands it to a little boy who quickly runs off without a thank you.

“You sure? You’ve kinda been doin’ yer hero thing.”

He hands a teenager a retro cat. “Maybe I wanted to impress you.” He gives the Aussie a sideways glance and a charming smile.

His heart backflips and he jerks his head so that Guy won’t see his blush. “Pshhh, what are ya tryna impress me for?”

“What do you think?”

Eventually, the crowd disperses enough for the two to move along and explore the rest of the carnival. Guy knows exactly where he wants to go next. Firstly, he lulls Digger towards that direction by buying him a churro. The Aussie always eats like any food will be his last, taking two bites at a time. Gardner kisses his stuffed cheeks and Harkness stops. His gaze lowers to the ground and he chews slower. Taking advantage of this distraction, Guy glances at the short line heading into a haunted house and gently pulls him into the queue.

“That good, huh?” Lantern prods, lightly pushes his weight into him.

“Mmhm…” He swallows and bites off a much smaller piece.

Halfway through the line, Boomerang finally looks up, and up and up at the stately building posing as a mansion. He gulps loudly.

Guy feigns concern, forcing his smile down. “Somethin’ wrong, pumpkin?”

“Uhhhh– nope! Nah, I’m… I’m alright. We ain’t goin’ in, are we?”

“We’re in line right now! Were you too invested in your churro?”

His eyes flicker around. “I-I guess so– Ahh, yea. I was. But ah, oh, I need to uhh, hit the dunny–”

“You just got that churro! Digs, you’re not scared of some play house, are ya? Look at all the little tikes in front of us.”

He puffs his chest out. “Course not! Not scared of anythin’! I was um, I mean, I was– they usually put the bins next to the bathroom. I was, ahh, gonna throw the wrapper away.”

“Put it in your pocket. We’re almost in!”

With the rest of the churro discarded in his jacket, the two enter the main foyer covered in cobwebs. Echoes of maniacal laughter fill the dusty space filled with Victorian furniture.

“Welcome to the Manor of Madness,” the man clothed in butler’s attire addresses them. His plastic fangs poke his bottom lip as he speaks monotonously. “It is an honor to have the Green Lantern visit our most hospitable abode.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is hospitable. The maid quit?” Guy plays along. Digger hovers close, staring back at the entrance that is now closing behind them. He wishes he didn't have that giant jacket on him. He wants to feel the warmth wafting off him.

“She has been taking a long holiday down under.”

Boomer turns around and asks genuinely. “She’s in ‘Straylia?” 

Guy snorts.

“So to speak.” He nods seriously. Behind him, the doors abruptly open. “I shall not keep you here any longer. There is much to explore and there is only so little time.”

“Don’t like that.” The Aussie mutters.

“Just the wind, right, butler?” He holds out his fist towards him before passing him by.

“Indeed, it is very drafty in here.” Unable to hide his grin, the employee gives him a quick bump before reverting into his stoic expression. “Watch out for Miss Maggie. She detests loud noises.”

The door closes behind him. Gardner snickers, “Ohhh, think we’re gonna get chased, Digs?”

“Better not… I-I mean, cuz if she tries, she’s gonna get a boomerang to the head.”

“... You didn’t bring any, did you?”

“I always keep least one on me. Ya never know. Mean, you got your ring, don’tcha?”

“Yeah, that’s fa–”

The door beside them bangs aggressively as if someone is on the other side slamming their shoulder repeatedly into it. Boomer shrieks and snatches Guy into his arms. His heart begins to accelerate but not from the jumpscare or his date’s scream. Before he could rest his head on his shoulder, Digger pulls away.

“You bastard!” He shouts with his teeth bare. “Step out ‘ere!”

Lantern places his hand on his shoulder and forces him onward before Digger could do any actual damage. “They’re doing their job, pumpkin.”

“They scared you! I was gonna give’em what for.”

“Scared me?!”

“Uhh–yea! Yer the one that screamed!”

“Green Lanterns don’t get scared by rattling doors.” Another door on their left this time shudders and a feral barking coming from a speaker plays from within. Boomerang jumps while Guy stays completely grounded. “Okay, that’s just lazy. It's only a sound-"

Before he could stop him, Harkness kicks the door back. “It’s a stupid sound effect! Why did ya jump then, huh? If it’s– it’s so dumb!”

Gardner merely presses on, walking around him. “Keep on projecting onto me if that helps you feel better.”

“I-I ain’t projectin’ shit! I feel fine! I’m–I’m perfectly–”

There is a noticeable seam and hinge on the ceiling. Guy stops in front of it and soon the trapdoor opens and a giant manmade spider jerks forward.

Harkness shrieks again, hiding behind his date as he cries, “No no no no no! I hate spiders! I hate spiders!”

Lantern turns his head this way and that to look at the intricate details of where they placed the hair and the material they used for its glossy eyes. Its mandibles electronically fidget and the internal gears whirl as the spider is pulled back inside its mechanism, the door closing behind it.

“Man, whoever’s on the art department is really talented...” He presses into Boomer and lovingly strokes his arm hair with his finger tips. “It’s gone, pumpkin.”

He is slow to reject Guy’s touch this time. He takes a tiny step back, his breathing erratic and his eyes twitching.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Gardner pulls him into his side and kisses his temple. “I got you.”

Throughout the rest of the haunt, even though the very tensed up Digger hid his face in Guy’s neck, he still shrieked at every sudden audio sting. Does Guy feel bad about any of this? No. Not really. He has been wanting to be held this way this whole date. Every now and then he plants a kiss on his head and quietly urges him until the exit is in sight. Boomer shoves himself off him and books it. Gardner pauses when he notices the divider right next to the door. As expected, someone in a clown costume jumps out with a revving fake chainsaw in his hand. Fortunately, Digger does not whip out his boomerang. He skids, lands on his ass, and scampers back to Guy all the while voicing his displeasure with colorful profanities. The clown chases after him, the chainsaw above his head.

"I think that's Miss Maggie, Digs! I'll get her!" Clutching his fist, his ring glows and a green box encases the weapon alongside the clown’s hands up to his wrists. Chains rise up from the box and loop around the wooden beams above them, hauling the employee up a few inches.

Harkness collides into his chest but the pain does not phase Lantern even as he staggers. He returns the panicked embrace immediately and noses his ear. He squeezes his date and sniffs his sweaty musky hair. His eyes roll back. Swallowing, he basks in this blissful moment just for a moment longer.

“Psst, look.” He nudges and gestures with his chin.

Digger glances over and gawks at the sight. “Oh…” Is all he lets out.

“See? I got you. Go on.” He pats him on the rear.

The Aussie hurries past the confused clown, keeping his head down. When he is out the door, Gardner dissipates the ring’s energy.

“Sorry about that, champ. Y’know how it is with dates. But you did great!” He claps him on the shoulder. The clown mutters a muffled and confused thank you and Guy lets the door close behind him.

“Pumpkin?” He calls out, looking around but there is no sign of the Aussie. “Pumpkin! Digs!” He checks the tents then looks out towards the beach. “… Maybe he did make a break for the restroom.”

They sit not too far away from the backside of the haunt. As he turns the corner into the men’s, the Aussie nearly crashes into him.

“Shit!” He cries and shoves him, looking mad like a cut snake as he would say. “Don’t do that! What are ya smilin’ like that for, you bloody bastard?”

“I had an attractive Australian man clinging onto me for the past five minutes.” Guy shrugs. “I’m feeling pretty good.”

Boomer scoffs and shoulders him out of his way as he marches off with tightly crossed arms.

“Hey, wait, I called you attractive!” Gardner grabs his arm, which he yanks away. “What’s with the attitude?!”

“You did it on purpose!” He jabs his finger into his chest. “That was embarrassing!”

“No, it wasn’t!”

“Yeah, for you! You didn’t scream once!”

“Oh, come on, Digs! They’re just costumes and animatronics.”

“Yeah, yeah, that makes me feel loads better.” He turns his head to look at the beach. The orange glow of the fair lights and the moon overhead illuminate his frown and glistening eyes.

“Hey…” Digger slaps his hand away but Guy grabs him again. “Yo! I didn’t do all this to embarrass you! I wanted you all over me and you’ve been so reserved all night.”

“I ain’t reserved–”

“You haven’t kissed me once.” He finally drops. Digger stares into him, his eyes big. “You haven’t touched me either. Could’ve at least squeezed my ass.”

He blinks a few times and slouches. His shoulders raise to his ears and he rubs his arm. “I ain’t comfortable about doin’ that shit in public like you are, mate. You’re a Lantern and part of the flamin’ Justice Gang. It’s different when I do it.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know what you read but when, you know, someone not famous gets with someone who is… Everything gets... It’s a whole parasocial thing. It gets messy.”

His face hardens. Then he closes the gap between them, whispering. “... Are you safe? You don’t get any messages or anything, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Don’t mean it won’t change when someone catches on.”

His hands fall to his sides. “I get it…” Is it safer to break up with him? If you love something let it go, right? Unfortunately, Guy prefers to take risks. “I know you can take care of yourself, but you come to me whenever, alright? I’ll talk to whoever. I’ll make them listen.”

Digger nods, almost stoic. But then he speaks. “Thought I already do that.” Harkness sways on his heels slightly as one corner of his mouth tugs upright. “Come to you.”

With a pressed up smile, Gardner strikes him in the side and Boomer cackles, grabbing and fighting with his hands that are desperate to tickle him. But his constructs soon make it a battle that he cannot win.

Chapter Text

Silence is what Nygma’s house is used to. Silence occasionally broken up by internal thoughts expressed outwardly by Riddler himself. Aside from that, silence pervades the abode. The refrigerator’s hum is quiet. The sizzling of oil on a hot pan is quiet. Pages softly turn as he reads.

Silence is Edward’s greatest companion and obedient snitch. With the quiet, he knows when the mailman arrives. Haphazard footsteps act like cuts, drawing out pain– specifically, aggravation from Riddler.

Silence is sacred and it must be preserved at all costs. Silence comforts, tucks him in as he edges towards sleep. 

… From the living room, not too far away from his bedroom, the wooden frame cries as the window is opened through sheer brute force from the outside.

His eyes snap open. The silence blesses Nygma as he jerks himself out of bed and snatches a gun from inside his nightstand without so much as a creak. Gripping the iron, he slowly stalks down the dark hallway towards the open room as a figure hobbles from the living area and into the kitchen. He squints.

A tall, broad frame… looks to be hunched over. Edward keeps his gun pointed to the floor. 

The refrigerator door thrusts open and, when the light finally casts onto the intruder, Riddler–- knows that stupid blue beanie anywhere.

“George Harkness!” He chastises as he flicks on the lights.

The Australian screams, dropping a can of unopened cola onto the floor. He whirls around, his cheeks stuffed with two boiled eggs. Digger scolds him back. However, it is not coherent. He dips down and snatches the drink off the floor and stares at it, pondering.

Glaring, Riddler puts a hand to his hip. “You’re eating my breakfast I specifically made for tomorrow– oh no, there’s no point in spitting it out now! Go on. Swallow it.”

Harkness slowly chews for a while. Eventually, he puts the can back and grabs a different one. He takes a few swings before finally gulping everything down. “S’rry.” He belches through closed lips. “I can boil you some right now if ya want?”

“That… I have backups for a reason." He inhales deeply. "Digger. Why?”

“I was hungry–”

“No. Why are you coming into my house through the window?” He glances and scoffs, pointing at the window. “And you didn’t even close it!”

Digger staggers back. “WHOA! Why do you have a gun?! Were you gonna kill me?!”

“If you were not YOU, I would have shot you in the leg and interrogated you. Count yourself fortunate that I recognized you before I took the shot.” Huffing, he combs his hand through his hair. “Why are you in Gotham?”

While taking another sip, he throws a hand up. “You’re here! Why else would I come to Gotham?”

Riddler sways his head and wildly gestures as he talks. “Perhaps, you could come by during the day? Like a normal person? Knock on the door? Text me, even? Call me!?”

With a smirk, Digger swaggers over and gets into his space. “I don’t think we started datin’ cuz you thought I was normal, Eddy.”

Edward presses the pistol under his chin and cocks a brow. “Did your mother not teach you manners, darling?”

Briefly, his eyes glimmer before his sunkissed face drains of color. His Adam's apple bobs. “I-I-I got manners.”

Riddler hums, his lips tugging upright. His freckles pop out, dancing over his forehead and down his jawline. The dark red scar on his nose shines like a beacon. There are a few more scars down by his lips, some from shaving accidents and others from combat. His gaze lingers on each one. “Where are they now, I wonder?”

“... I’ll go… close the window.” He hurries with his legs pressed together. “Sorry about the lock.”

“I’ll get it fixed tomorrow. Actually…” Edward places the gun down on the countertop and opens a drawer full of junk. He frowns at it. Cleaning it out is not high on the priority list… but it IS in here. He saw it recently. “So that doesn’t happen again... because I know it will. It is you we are speaking about...”

“Oiii, old habits are hard ta break, love…” He sets his drink down and crosses his arms, resting them on the island. “What’re’ya lookin’ for?”

“This!” He produces a spare house key. Nygma rounds the counter, grabs his hand, and forces the key into his palm. “There. Now, you have complete access to my home.”

Harkness stares down at it, wide eyed. His brain takes a moment longer to process. “Wait, you’re serious? You’re letting me have this?!”

“You’re my partner. Why would I not?”

“Lotta, uh, trust, this.”

“I must really trust you then.” Placing his hand on his cheek, he gives the Aussie a chaste peck only just neighboring his lips.

Digger retaliates immediately. Hooking his arm around his waist, he leans in and aggressively attacks his face and neck with his kisses. Laughter erupts from his nose before breaking through his lips. Even with his attempts to pull away, his body pushes into Harkness instead. His hair reeks of chemicals and body odor. And yet that awful smell is a welcomed comfort, striking in familiarity. How long has it been since he has seen him? Weeks that march on into months? His heart pounds harshly into his ribcage, desperate to reunite with his lover. With a small whine, Nygma shoves back, hands clutched onto the front of his coat. He noses his face until Harkness redirects his attention and kisses his open mouth. It dawns on him how earnestly he longed for Digger's adorable and loud noises. A home filled by Digger's presence may bring irritation but with it comes bliss. Silence may be his companion but Digger is his ecstasy that silence cannot replace.

It would be redundant to audibly express how much their hearts have yearned for one another. Boomer has never been good with words anyway. In fact, Riddler is not giving him a chance to speak. His face is firmly gripped, forcing– keeping his head close. As if Digger is going to pull away now. His breath stench is worse than his hair and yet his tongue dives further. His hand crawls down Nygma’s back, sculps over his ass, and hungrily grabs his thigh that he yanks up and holds against his hip. Eager meets greed. Riddler shoves his hands up his shirt, his naked palms caressing his touch starved skin. His knees tumble forwards. Fist clenched on the island, Harkness holds them steady. Unphased, Edward gropes his chest and swipes his thumbs across his nipples. Digger unceremonously bucks into him, taking the air out of his lover’s lungs and swallowing it.

A bead of saliva bridges in between their mouths as they part. Edward breaks the bead with his fingers and laps up the hanging string. He looks up to see Digger's pupils consume his pretty green irises like two tiny black holes. Tossing the key onto the counter, Harkness hauls Nygma up, where he wraps himself around his body, and carries him into the bedroom.

The light is left on.

And the cola sits forgotten.

Chapter Text

Harley/Boomer

(587 words)

Sitting on the porch, Harley knocks her knees together as she waits for another batch of trick or treaters to hop up. Not very many tonight, weird enough. It’s Friday. It’s a weekend night. Everyone should be out and about. Not that Harley forgot where she was. Who knows? Maybe Scarecrow is making the holiday hell for the city. Not from where she is sitting. Skies lack a distinct tint of sickly green and no one is screaming yet. Harley rocks from side to side with a candy bowl in her lap. She tried to make herself inviting this time, dressing as a cute little witch with a spindly hat and argyle socks. Zatanna would roll her eyes but she ain’t here, is she? Nope, she’s got her cool Halloween ball that… Harley wasn’t invited to.

“Ugggghhhhh…!” Harley rests her back on the wooden ground and sighs, “I could still try to crash it…” She blows a strand of hair out of her face. “If I knew where it was. Prolly not even in Gotham–”

Hearing a yell, she surges forward. Across the street, the elderly woman standing at her door screams at a dark figure springing out of the light of a neighbor’s porch as candy trails behind them.

“Pfeh, guess B-man’s just too busy to stop a candy-nappin’.” Placing her bowl down, she takes a moment to stretch her back all the while groaning before she bolts after the thief. “Hey, asshole! You don’t take from old ladies without repercussions!”

The figure ducks into an alleyway, coat billowing behind. Harley snatches the lid of a garbage can near the entrance and hurls it down the narrow hall. The hard plastic collides into the back of the thief, knocking him over and the candy bowl out of his hands. From the ground, the thief winges incoherently with a thick accent.

“Waaaait, that crying sounded pretty familiar...” Harley rips the material covering the man’s head to reveal… “Boomer!”

The Australian slowly looks up, his face contorted and his teeth bared. “Did you have to throw it that hard?! Think you broke me back, Harl.”

“Oh, you big baby, it’s just a bruise! You’re gonna be fiiiinnne.” She squats beside him and pokes his face. “Why are you stealing candy off of doorsteps, huh? Work that slow?”

He pouts. “It’s free candy…”

“That’s a sad excuse, dude.”

“Love,” He lays his head down on the concrete with a grunt, “candy’s goin’ for over ten bucks.”

She puckers her lips and pops them. “You’re not wrong. I only bought one bag this year.”

“Yea? And nanna over there got the full size ones.”

“I knew she was loaded!” She snatches a chocolate bar– much to Boomer’s audible dismay.

“Oi! I stole it first!”

Where could Harley start? Being his partner, the options are limitless and the chance to be playfully mean is high. Though, she did just nail him in the back and he has not gotten up to physically stop her, let alone lift his head up. Okay, it might be more than just a bruise. Whoops. “Tell you what, hun. I’m gonna fill up your pockets and wherever else with this stuff and give the rest back to her. Then we can hang out at my place and you can have most of the chocolate while I’ll give you a massage and some ice.”

He blinks. “That sounds… You’ll pamper me?”

“Yeah, cuz… I feel bad. You’re not moving.”

“Told ya you broke somethin’.”

“You ain’t broken!”

Floyd/Boomer

(543 words)

Digger, once more, checks himself out in the mirror. His reflection reveals not his oh so handsome face but a skeleton skull with fake blood oozing from his mouth and dark red eyes with brighter red irises. The face paint was courtesy of Harley, of course. The blood on his cowboy costume and skeleton gloves, however, was his doing. And in his mind, that sealed the look. He smacks the cowboy hat on his head and waits at the front window, peeking through the blinds for a specific car.

… Which finally drives up. Drawing back, his arms tingle with excitement as his unsuspecting victims slowly advance towards Harley’s door. The second he hears shoes hit wood, he thrusts the door open. Lurches through the opening with a shout, Zoe jumps back, throwing her hands up like a red panda, while her father stands like a statue. Of course. Of bloody course, he doesn’t react. Arsehole.

“I knew it! I knew that was going to happen! EWW!” She cries out, pointing at the drool.

No matter how much he widens his eyes or mouth, letting the blood drip from his chin, Deadshot leers back.

“What are you supposed to be?” He finally asks.

“I’m a cowboy skele’un.” Harkness draws back with a lopsided frown.

“Boomer, don’t…” Zoe tries, albeit too late.

“Mate, where’s your costume?”

“I’m wearing it.”

“Normal clothes ain’t a costume.” There is a pumpkin underneath his arm. “Why you got a pumpkin?”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “He says he’s the headless horseman.”

“What’s with the attitude?” Floyd shoots back.

“She’s givin’ ya shit cuz you didn’t even try! Where’s yer horse, aye? Couldn’t even do that. Headless horseless– you’re just a guy holdin’ a pumpkin!”

“Would you step aside already? It’s damn cold out here.”

“Ladies first…” Digger sweeps his arm as he lets the teen in. When Floyd’s foot lands on the welcome mat, he slams the door shut. Lawton is fast, however. The knob is fully turned and the assassin is firmly pressed into the door while Boomer digs in his heels into the carpet to keep it closed.

“Let me IN, Boomer!” He thrusts again, rattling any brain cells Harkness may have had.

“No!” (“Their relationship is so weird,” Zoe remarks to Harley who just lets out a deep knowing chuckle.) “You came here with an attitude, you didn’t try, and three you didn’t get scared!”

“Maybe, if you actually tried to be scary–”

Boomerang gasps sharply. “Bastard! You know I–”

“Hey!” Harley yells from the den. “Can you two quit foreplaying?! We’re trying to game over here!”

With another shove, Floyd manages to slip his hand through the slit and finally bursts into the house, forcing Digger to stumble into the wall.

“And don’t break my shit!”

“It’s not foreplay…” Lawton grumbles, slowly closing the door and kicking his shoes off.

Try as he might, he cannot escape the Aussie’s red eyes. Digger greets him with a sleazy grin. He wiggles his brows and then gestures with a nod to the stairs and a glance.

Taking a deep breath, he sighs hard. “Later.” His heavy feet carry him to the living room.

Harkness follows him close, like a shadow. Teeth ready to sink into his skin.

John/Boomer

(434 words)

In truth, was it smart to grab Captain Boomerang before Director Bones could?

John stares down at the unconscious mutated Australian. Angled bones stick out of his bloodied back. Parts of his skin are stretched so thin that bones and muscle poke out of holes in order to accommodate his sudden growth. Gliding his hand over his arm, his skin is elastic, rubbery and gross.

All of this is a result of extreme radiation. From what? John wasn’t there to see it happen. But when he felt his tether to Digger snap, he flung into action.

Radiation and its vast side effects are beyond his knowledge. Constantine cannot even begin to think how it would react to any magical intrusion.

Harkness isn’t breathing.

To circle back to that question, he has no idea. Would they be able to bring him back? Would they run tests on his corpse?

John caresses his auburn mutton chops, smoothing the hair in place. His head feels heavy. His eyelids threaten to close.

Never has he ever given himself space to grieve and yet here he sits. His partners, almost partners, friends, acquaintances, all suffer the same fate. Why would he be any different?

This time, it wasn’t his fault.

Cupping his large face, John leans over and pushes his head into his. He doesn’t smell great. Literal death. Constantine has smelled far worse than rotting flesh. That does not stop him from wishing that he was enveloped by his cheap perfume instead. He lays a chaste kiss just under his sunken eye. He adjusts his limbs so that he is resting on his torso. Keeping his hands on him, he stays there. Only for a few moments more. Then he can stop grieving and carry on.

Just a little longer. Weight seems to increase on top of John.

Even a second is too long. He should have moved on a minute ago. At least taken him to an undisturbed place where he can rest in peace and not–

Did he just inhale?

His eyes flutter open. Before his eyes, Digger shrinks. His skin gradually returns to its original hue and greatly heals over his open wounds. The bones on his back aggressively crack as they return to the spine. Harkness lets out a restrained groan as he convulses. Boomer rips his head away and coughs deep from his chest.

“Auhhhh shit…” He hisses, sniffing. “Why’s eve’ythin’ hurt?”

John snags him and wraps himself around him.

“Fheuh? Jah… Johnny? What’s goin’ on? Are ya…?” Feeling a wetness on his neck silences his tongue.

Digger squeezes him in his embrace.

Sam/Boomer

(425 words)

Yawning so hard he nearly falls over, Harkness stumbles his way into the bathroom. After doing his business, he stands in front of the mirror and vacantly stares at the groggy man before him.

He sniffs. He rubs the crusts from his eyes. He does not usually get up this late but the cold encourages him to act like a reptile in a… not desert biome. Sure, Australia did get snow, but not the Ohio level of snow where it's at your knees.

Boomer sticks his tooth brush into his mouth and lazily scrubs. When he arches his back, his spine and hips cracks. He flinches more at the sound than the sensation.

Rolling his neck alleviates some tension but the sharp stiffness remains. He tries stretching his arm out to the side and pulling his neck to the opposite side. The tendons give a mild nonverbal scream. After ten seconds, he does the same to his left side.

Oh, it’s worse somehow.

Was his ass up in the air again? He can’t recall.

“Damn weather…” He spits into the sink and as he looks up. He can feel drool on his chin but he doesn’t… see it in the mirror.

After rubbing his eyes again, he bends over and squints at his reflection. It squints back, blinking dumbly. Then smiles.

With a yipe, Digger surges backwards into the wall as the glass warps his image.

Laughter echoes off the walls and Sam bursts out from the mirror. “Gooood afternoon, sleepy head!”

“Bloody hell!” He clutches his chest, panting. “That’s the worst wake up call ya could’ve given me!”

“But it worked.” His grin climbs up to his ears.

“You’re a dick!”

His face softens significantly. “It’s not my fault that you got up late, man. Suffer the consequinces…”

“Sure…” He keeps his arms folded. “Ain’t like Halloween’s at night. God forbid a bloke get some extra sleep.”

“That’s not what we agreed on as a group. You were supposed to help out.”

“Whatever.”

Puckering his bottom lip, Sam eases back. “Boomie, get over here.”

“What do you want now?” He huffs, stepping forward.

“How’s this?” Mirror Master lowers down and plants a kiss on his head, then on his cheek. A small noise escapes from Boomer’s throat.

“It’s… nice.” He worms closer and Scudder gives him another peck. “You tryna warm me up now?”

“I figured this would be better than me telling you that Cold is going to yell at you if you don’t hurry up.”

“... I’ll hurry up… After one more kissie.”

Eddy/Boomer

(787 words)

Carefully sliding the blade down, the smile is slowly coming to fruition. There are multiple facets of being an artist. Edward takes great pride in his puzzle artistry, his wordplay, his mechanics…

Drawing? He can draw. He isn’t Di Vinci or anything. But he can draw a decent self portrait.

Carving a pumpkin is another story all on its own. The knife wants to diverge off the sharpie path he delicately shaped over the bumpy ridges.

He glances over at Digger who seems to be doing just fine with the carving portion. As a man skilled with a boomerang, of course this would not serve as a challenge.

Riddler glares down at his pumpkin. The eyes are lopsided at best. The nose is crooked. His attempt at shaving poked holes into the flesh. His hands shake.

“Eddy.” Boomerang begins sweetly, “this is all for fun, remember?”

“If it is not perfect in your image, then where is the fun?” Edward replies through his teeth.

“Fun’s in makin’ it…” He stops chipping away at his piece. “Love, you gotta let that perfectionism go.”

“It doesn’t look anything like you.”

“Mine don’t look much like you neither.”

“Either.” He corrects. “It’s either. Not neither.”

“Eddy.”

Seeing his hand inching towards him, he takes it with a curt huff.

“This is ‘posed to be fun.”

“I know…”

“It’s me first time ever doin’ somethin’ like this. So, can’t be any worse than mine. So what if it don’t look great? You’re gonna laugh at mine for sure.”

“It’s an earnest attempt.” His free hand balls into a fist.

“Oi. Hey. Look at me.”

It is slow, his head lifting. If he did take that instance to look at him, everything inside him would melt immediately. Clinging to his exasperation, his eyes remain on the pumpkin. Eventually, his gaze journeys up. The blue and white sweater, a size too small, wraps snugly around his beer belly. His hoonigan tattoo awaits to be traced once they crawl into bed. The sharp stubble around his chin needs a shave if he wants a kiss tonight. Great, his dour mood is already fading away.

Pressing his lips together, he forces himself to continue.

His smile, although small, is warm, tugging up on the right side more than the left. Perfect. Sweet. Gentle. He shivers at what is to come. Meeting his gracious green eyes, Edward unclenches his jaw.

Boomer’s smile grows. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He returns on an exhale.

“There’s my Eddy. Knew he was in there.”

“Hmmmmph.” He can’t pull away now. His eyes are magnetizing.

He pats his hand. “You wanna stop for now?”

“It’s not finished.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean we can’t continue tomorrow. When ya less angry.”

“I want to finish it tonight.”

“What’ve I told ya about pushin’ yerself, huh?”

“... To not to.” He says through stiff lips.

Digger snorts. “Yeah. That’s it. Let’s put a pause on this– Ahh! No groanin’.”

Riddler grunts instead. “Fine.”

“‘Ere.” Drawing his hands back, he takes his pumpkin and spins it around. “Have a look at it.”

What… is he looking at. It’s a face. It has facial features… but… If he was forced to describe it, he would say it looks like a donkey.

His chest tightens as a laugh claws for an escape. “Is… that what I look like to you? Why am I bald?”

“I haven’t gotten to the hair yet! Didn’t say mine was done! But I got the question marks down. See?”

“Yes. Yes. I do see.” A snort nearly shoots out of his nose but he quickly puts a hand to his mouth.

Harkness grins. “Hey! I’m tryin’ my best ‘ere!”

“I didn’t laugh! I… I would never laugh in the face of suchhhhhheeheh–ahem, artistry.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s see yours then.”

His face falls. “You can’t laugh.”

“You laughed at mi… I won’t laugh.”

He spins it around, looking anywhere but at Digger. There is some paint on his shoe. Great.

“I think you’ve got me essence down.”

“Your essence?”

“Yea! I like it. Like what you did with me beard. It’s all wild like a mane! I think yer doin’ good, love.”

A steady warmth spreads across his face. “If you truly believe that… I will accept it.”

“Good. Ya should.”

“I apologize for laughing at yours.”

“Fehh!” He waves his hand. “I ain’t bothered. Knew takin’ on your pretty looks to a pumpkin would be impossible. Me mug’s easier. I’m pumpkin shaped.”

“Pumpkin shaped?” He snickers. “I hope that is with a positive connotation.”

He shrugs. “Depends if you like pumpkins, I guess.”

“Well then. I suppose it’s a good thing that I love pumpkins.”

Blush consumes his entire head as Boomer breaks into sputtering giggles.

Chapter Text

For seven minutes, Captain Cold has been waiting inside the freezing garage. Back and forth he paced, rounding the Boomerang Mobile. For the past three minutes, he has memorized the curves of the decals that he can trace them without looking. For the past remaining five minutes, he tidied up the loose trash left behind by his fellow Rogues. Placing empty boxes back into their spots, gathering crumbled up wrappers and tossing them into the bin, he even took the broom and began sweeping the more high traffic areas.

Finally. FINALLY, Boomer comes out.

“Alright. Ready to go, boss.”

He puts up the broom. “Took you long enough. We’re using your van–” As Leonard turns, his words fall short.

Boomerang stands there with a red plaid shirt with a fuzzy interior that pokes out at the collar. He never wears jeans and yet here he is, wearing one with suspenders over his shoulders that accentuates his beer belly. Honestly, with the beanie and the mutton chops, he really fits the lumberjack bill. Len's gut bleeds an uncomfortable warmth that spreads across his entire body.

“Whaddya think, aye?" Digger spins. "You haven’t blinked yet.”

“I... I think that’s too small a shirt for you.”

His posture shrinks, his shoulders raise as his arms attempt to hide his stomach. “Is it the gut?”

“No, no, its the way your chest..." He awkwardly demonstrates by pulling his hands from each other but the Aussie stares at him blankly. "It's tight there. It's stretching the fabric."

Digger smirks. “You like that?”

“Put a jacket on.” Len snaps.

“Ehhh,” He points at his bicep. “How else are ya gonna see me muscle ripple when I get ta choppin’?”

“All you’re going to do is complain.”

“No, I won’t!”

“Oh yea? You wanna make a wager?”

Baring his teeth, his lips tug down. “Sssure.”

“You don’t complain about the cold and…" He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. "I’ll let you do that thing you want to do.”

He stands up straighter. “Wait, seriously?”

He lets out a quiet sigh. “... Yes.”

“Deal!" He claps his gloved hands together. "You know the way?”

“I’ve got the directions." Len hops into the van. "You read them out.”

Pressing the garage button, the door steadily open. Cold digs into his pocket and hands Harkness a sheet of paper.

"No map?" Digger flips it over a few times before laying it on his leg.

"Nope, just read them out." He repeats. "Seat belt."

"Yeah, yeah..." When he finally buckles in, Len takes off into the snow. Not two minutes pass before Digger pipes up again. “Can ya turn the heater on?”

He tries not to smile. “Too cold for you?”

“I would just like some hot air if that is… okay.” He speaks so slow that his accent elongates certain words. “That is not me complaining. I would just… like… heat.”

Leonard snickers. “Sure thing, Boomer.”

He exhales shakily. “Thank you…”

“I’m not going to make you suffer on purpose.”

“‘Preciate it…" He leans over the console, his voice raspy as he tries to whisper. "Though, y’know what else would help me keep warm?”

“A jacket.”

“Nooo.” He slithers his hand onto his thigh and Cold swiftly moves it.

“We’ll discuss that after we get the tree back to the base.” He remarks sharply.

Crossing his arms and putting his feet up, Digger scoffs, “Fine." 

Len leers. “Boomer.”

“It’s my van, Len.”

“Yeah? And I’m driving.”

“Am I blockin’ yer view? No. I ain't.”

“That doesn’t mean I want your rank ass feet up on the dash.”

“Rank!?" He shouts, his jaw agape. "These are fresh boots, thank ya much! Just put ‘em on today!”

“Never see you in brown." He takes a glimpse. "Fact, you not in blue is pretty uncanny.”

His voice drops an octave. “... Do I look bad?”

“Not at all. Red’s a good look on you... Brings out your eyes.”

Digger doesn't answer. With another glance, Cold spies a smile he attempts to conceal by sinking into the seat, his head lowering to his shoulders.

The bubbling warmth makes his heart skip a beat.

Finding a suitable tree was no issue. There was an exact height in mind. Just under seven feet is enough room for whatever Trickster wanted to do for the topper. Cold looks from the tree to the complementarily sled they hauled out from the farm's log cabin. He should have gotten a saw too. Or an axe...

"I'll go find one of the emplo-" Before taking a step, metal unsheathes out of leather. Cold jerks his head, his mouth moving faster than his thoughts. “You are not chopping the tree down with a boomerang.”

“Oh, yes, I am!" Digger laughs, "It's flamin' easy!”

“Boomer, you’re going to damage the branches–”

“Just you watch!” The boomerang is out of his hold way before Len could snatch it. Digger flicked the steel in such a way that it knocks away a fair bit of the bark from the base while not losing momentum. On its return bend, it lobs off another chunk. Chucking the karli again, he bats off two more pieces and the tree falls to the right, on top of the sled.

Standing tall, he places a hand on his hip and smirks. “You were sayinnnnn’?”

Letting Harkness have a big head would bring the world to ruin. “You… did good.”

“Cheers, boss. Can I run back to the van?”

“You’re making me drag this thing by myself?"

“Ah! No! No, uhhh, course not! I was gonna drive it over here! Save ya the trip!”

"How? We are in the middle of the nursery. They're not going to let a minivan through here."

His poor legs are trembling. His lip wobbles. "Okaaay..."

This has become less amusing and more sad. “Boomer, I'm teasing. I don't need you turning blue. I'll bring it over.”

“Thank you thank you thank you…” He nearly trips over himself as he runs through the brush.

It is better to push than to pull the sled. Len slowly weaves through the farm until an employee spots him and eases the burden by pulling on the rope. Snart gives him a breathless thank you as the man helps him hoist the tree onto the roof of the van. From inside, Digger expertly ties knots that secures the tree in place.

Slamming the car door behind him, Cold turns to Boomer.

"Sorry for, eh, not helpin' you out there." Digger fumbles with loose threads. "You're right. I shoulda brought a jacket. I just wanted to impress ya..."

He grabs the Aussie by the collar and yanks him forward, meeting his lips half way. Frozen, Digger sits there with his eyes as big as baubles.

Len does not pull away. His lips dance over his as he speaks. “You impressed me. You did good.”

“Ta.” He replies slowly, staring deeply into his eyes.

Digger carefully maneuvers his hands up and touches his arm as he leans in, taking back the kiss in such a gentle touch. Cold blinks until his eyes shut, seeping into his gracious warmth. Placing his hand on his cheek, Harkness tilts his head and deepens the kiss.