#time after the ~reciprocal~ murder attempts and i am just. speechless. genuinely

[leatherbookmark]

"i super don't care about izzy but at least i hope him embracing queerness made ed feel safer, so that he won't have to worry about izzy stabbing him in his sleep" no offense. i don't like being mean. but

[retroreaderr]

Edward Nygma/Reader | The Perfect Crime

this is it guys this is singlehandedly THE most cheesy fic i have e v e r written. right here. you know what? i don’t even care. i love this boyo too much to care. you heard it here first guys. im gay as fuck for this boy. also yeah ive been binging gotham and i love ed sm for consistency sake let’s just assume this is like, early season 1 ed ok? ok. –🕷️💋

Knock knock.

“Ed?”

The door to the lab was flung open suddenly to reveal a rather bubbly man, who all too enthusiastically cried your name,  “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” you smile back, “I figured you’d appreciate this,” you hand over his mug, a small stripe of steam rising from the coffee inside. He eagerly took it from you, grinning.

“Thank you,” he finally raised his gaze to meet yours, “Come in, please,” he stepped aside to usher you in.

“Did you analyze those blood samples for me?”

He made a small noise as he sipped his drink, and nodded slightly after setting the mug down.

“I did.”

“And…?”

He tilted his head slightly, “What can you catch but never throw?”

“Ed -”

“Come on, it’s an easy one,” he looked over at you with pleading eyes.

“A cold. But what does that -” he held up a hand to cut you off.

“Correct. Anyways, it was very interesting results, really. The victim had large amounts of dextromethorphan in his system.”

“Cough syrup?”

He nodded, “Yes, but -” he suddenly turned to sift through a stack of papers, most likely post-mortem medical reports on the victim, on one of the tables before handing it over to you, “ - He had no cold.”

“So what? He overdosed on Nyquil?”

“No, look,” he walked closer, looking over your shoulder to read the paper for a moment.

Your breathing hitched slightly when you felt his hand brush your arm as he reached out to point at a specific sentence scrawled onto the paper. You looked to where he was directing you but couldn’t read the words: you were completely frozen with him so close. He soon seemed to realize just how close he was as well, as his tone softened and his voice wavered slightly as he spoke now, “There were small amounts of arsenic in his blood.”

“So he was poisoned?” you turned your head slightly to look up at him and there was a small moment of silence as you stared at each other, only inches apart.

He broke the silence, however by clearing his throat and stepping away, though he was horrible at hiding the blush that had formed on his cheeks. He turned away then, facing one of the lab tables that was littered with various types of equipment.

“Yeah. Poisoned…It was minimal amounts though. I looked into it a bit further, there were signs of long-term exposure to arsenic in his system.”

“What kind of symptoms?”

“Oh, uh..” he fumbled trying to rearrange a few test tubes. He finally gave up, turning back to face you. He nervously pushed up his glasses before thinking, “Uh…Just…Standard symptoms. Headaches, nausea, vomiting…lung problems.”

“So…Like a cold?”

“I’d say more like a flu but, sure…Like a cold,” he agreed.

You smiled, “So the victim was being poisoned, most likely through his food or drink…Thought he was getting a cold…And then started taking the medicine, which would explain it in his system?”

“Sounds plausible enough. I wouldn’t have detected it if I wasn’t specifically looking for it, really,” he shrugged.

“Kill someone quick and easy, everyone knows. Everyone thinks it’s murder. Kill someone slowly and meticulously, no one knows. Everyone thinks it’s natural…It’s the perfect crime,” you thought aloud.

“Not my idea of a perfect crime, really,” Ed chuckled, “We still got ‘em. Guy was rich wasn’t he? Had private services? My bets are on the cook, they could’ve easily slipped the arsenic into his meals, he wouldn’t have known the difference -”

“What’s your idea of a perfect crime, then?” you interrupt his rambling.

He seemed caught off guard by the question, “Oh…I don't…”

“I’m just curious, is all.”

He looked over at you again, the curiosity in your eyes, the genuine interest you seemed to take when talking to him, it was unlike anyone else at the department. You went out of your way to talk to him, you enjoyed his stupid riddles and consulted him when you had a problem. You trusted him. You were his friend…

And yet what seemed like you just being nice meant the world to him. He was a complete mess around you; Just talking to you made his day infinitely better, and yet he still had such trouble doing it. He would stumble over his words, his heart would pound, his mind would turn to mush each time you so much as smiled at him.

“I find that the perfect crime would be committed by the perfect thief. Someone that maybe didn’t even know what they were doing, really.”

You looked at him, confused.

“The thieves that take things you can’t prove are gone,” he stared down at his hands for a moment.

“It starts off small, stealing glances, and it’s alright because you do just the same. Then you start paying attention to the little things they do, and that’s when they start to your breath away,” he took a step closer with each word, once again you were simply inches away from each other, “They steal your heart.”

You looked up at him, and you could feel yourself shaking.

“And then what happens?” you whisper closing the small gap left between the two of you. You ran your hands down the length of the lapels of his lab coat.

“Then you get back at them.”

“What…?”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, gently at first until you reciprocated. You were barely able to process what was really happening, but you scarcely cared. A million thoughts raced through your mind but you couldn’t truly comprehend any of them:

Ed was your best friend! What was even happening? Of course, you had fallen for your closest companion, and apparently, he had fallen just as hard in return. He loved you back, he loved you back, he -

One of his hands made its way to the side of your neck, the other at your waist, though you could tell he was unsure about it all.

His grip on you tightened slightly as he pressed harder against you, which was (what you guessed was) his attempt to deepen the kiss. When you didn’t return the favor, he pulled away, fear suddenly taking over.

“I - I am so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I -”

“Eddie.”

He stopped talking, instead tensing up. Though the nickname made him weak he was still terrified of what you had to say.

You giggled, “I take that as your retaliation?”

He shook his head in confusion.

“Stealing a kiss. That was what you were going for, right?”

He was speechless, he had just kissed you and you were completely nonchalant about it? You had liked it, even? He simply nodded slightly, still confused.

“Ed?”

He blinked a few times before looking at you.

“Do you have dinner plans for tonight?”

He shook his head.

“Pick me up at…Say, seven?”

He nodded. You smiled, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss on his cheek before turning to the door.

“See you then…And thanks again for helping with those blood samples.”

All he could do was make a small sound, something akin to a forced Uh-huh as you walked out of the room, completely composed.

For the first time, Edward Nygma was utterly lost for words.