Work Text:
Two-Face hates Arkham.
Well, I doubt anyone actually likes Arkham, pipes up the wuss, and Harv has to resist the urge to throw the canteen table he’s sitting at.
Shut the fuck up before I make you, he growls back, flicking his coin over his knuckles.
They had reached a peculiar almost-symbiosis recently, enough for them to function better than they usually did. Two-Face still takes the reigns more often than not, but Harvey is free to make whatever input he wants. It’s how they had such a good run after the last time they escaped Arkham; Even the Bat hadn’t been able to catch them, at least, not until they had performed nineteen successful heists and blown up most of the financial district, all in the span of six months.
But good ol’ Samaritan Harvey just had to go and get cold feet, Two-Face snaps at his other half. They had been in the middle of another heist, this time on Gotham Mint, and they had Batman cornered—Them and their six hired help. Two-Face had aimed his gun at the Bat’s head, right between his eyes, when the wimp had decided to take control. Instead of getting rid of their shared vermin problem finally, Harvey had decided to gain a conscience and had instead shot the foot of one of their lackeys, which had successfully distracted Two-Face and his men enough for the Bat to catch them by surprise.
Hope you’re happy, weakling, he growls. Now we’re stuck in the loony bin with all the rest of the psychos.
Look, I hadn’t meant for us to end up here, Harvey insists, for the hundredth time. I just didn’t want to kill Batman.
We flipped the coin for it, boy! Two-Face yells, flicking said coin up into the air before snatching it into his hand angrily. But you just couldn’t suck it up and do the job. Instead, you had to ruin everything and take control yourself!
Harvey doesn’t bother to respond, instead drawing back further into their mind, and leaving Two-Face to drink his coffee in peace.
It’s Arkham inmates’ mandatory dinner time right now, so each cellblock is in their assigned cafeteria. When Harv is fronting, he doesn’t eat, instead preferring to get whatever drink they have on the menu that day. Harvey hates going hungry, but he doesn’t get much of a say right now considering it was his royal screw-up who landed them here in the first place.
Oh, this place—how Harv loathes it. The compulsory therapy time, the shitty food, the bare cells, the other inmates—everything about Arkham makes Two-Face want to shoot someone. They got fifteen to twenty for their latest crimes, and it’s looking like they just might have to serve it all in full. There’s no way Two-Face is gonna take a plea bargain, even if it manages to knock ten years off, and time off for good behaviour is a no-go considering Harv refuses to act nice to these cream-puffs. So it’s either escape—a good plan, except they’ve been unable to make any contact to their connections in Gotham, and Harv’s starting to think the cowards have decided to jump ship since their incarceration—or do the time, which Two-Face refuses to even entertain the idea of.
It's looking bleak, no matter how they go about it.
“Harvey, my good fellow!” Comes a voice, breaking through Harv’s thoughts. “Mind if we sit here?”
Two-Face looks up to see some of his fellow crooks; Penguin, who is currently looking at him imploringly, Ivy, the Scarecrow, and Harley. Penguin is gesturing to the second table which is connected to Two-Face’s own—far enough for the other crooks to want to sit there, but close enough for it to still piss Two-Face off.
“Yeah, I fucking do,” Harv snaps at them, flipping his coin in the air again. “Fuck off.”
“Oh, good!” Penguin, ever accommodating, swiftly sits with his plastic canteen tray, the others doing the same. Harv growls, about to make them go away, before Ivy speaks, and Harv abandons his plans in order to listen in.
“So, what about that new inmate?” She asks, in her usual sultry voice, crossing her legs and flicking her hair as she turns to her compatriots. “What was his name, Puzzler or something?“
“Oh yeah, the Riddler!” Joker’s bimbo chimes in, grinning at the redhead. “Mr J was interested in recruiting him for a while, after he first started popping up—supposed to be a genius or somethin’.”
“From what I heard, he gave the Batman quite the runaround.” Scarecrow says, looking quite uninterested in the conversation but deciding to join in anyway.
“Mmn yes, he was the cause of all of those explosions on the East Side, if I recall correctly.” Penguin adds, adjusting a monocle that’s not there out of habit.
“Shame that Bats caught him, really—he was doing quite well, for a newbie.” Ivy sighs with a roll of her eyes.
Great, another costumed freak running around Gotham—just what we need, Harv thinks, turning away from the group. It’s the first he’s heard of this Riddler, but he doesn’t have high hopes. Any new criminal popping up is a threat to their business, and threats need to be neutralised.
Now let’s not be hasty, the wimp says, and Harv can feel the curiosity emanating from his other half. He could be a potential ally.
Yeah, as if, Harv responds with a roll of his eyes. Two-Face didn’t make a habit out of allying with other crooks, especially the crazy ones, which he suspects this Riddler is.
He sips from his cardboard cup again, barely listening in to the criminal’s now as they continue to speculate about the new criminal, having already lost interest. Instead, he turns back to the problem that is getting them out of this place.
You know, we’d probably be able to escape if we had actual allies and not just lackeys who are scared of us, Harvey says snidely, before swiftly suppressing Two-Face’s sudden urge to slam his fists onto the table.
And we wouldn’t be here in the first place if it wasn’t for you! He roars in their mind. We don’t need allies; we need YOU to stop being a fucking pussy!
“Speak of the devil,” Scarecrow’s voice speaks, louder than the rest of the conversation, successfully breaking through Two-Face’s thoughts. “Here he comes now.” Two-Face rolls his eyes, not bothering to look up to see the newcomer. If everything goes well, they’ll avoid the criminal for as long as they’re still here.
“Ooo, look, he’s coming over here!” Harley says excitedly, and it’s then that Two-Face realises that his table is the only one free. No crook in Arkham dares to sit next to Two-Face when Harv is fronting, except the clown, so he’s the only empty table in the canteen.
For fuck’s sake, he thinks, as footsteps nearing closer cut through the noise of the canteen, before legs enter his peripheral vision and a voice pipes up.
“Mind if I sit here?” The voice, which he can only assume belongs to the Riddler, says.
Just let him, Harv, Harvey instructs, which Two-Face scoffs inwardly at. There’s no fucking way he’s gonna let some freak take up his space.
Two-Face looks up at the stranger, about to tell him to fuck off, but the words get caught in his throat instead.
The Riddler has red hair, golden eyes, and an air of above-ness about him, like he’s bigger and better than the very soil he stands on; and when he smiles at Harv, it’s dashing and mischievous and Harv- Harv blushes.
“Yeah, just, be quiet.” He eventually mumbles, after just several beats of shell-shocked silence, during which the Riddler’s smile widens into a grin. He hears whispering from the other crooks at the table beside them, but blocks them out immediately and just looks down at his coffee instead.
What was that?! Harvey asks, bewildered. Two-Face ignores him.
The Riddler sits down with his tray of shitty canteen food, and Harv continues to avoid looking at the man, even as he feels the Riddler’s eyes bore into him.
“You’re Two-Face, right?” He asks after a couple of minutes. “Otherwise known as Harvey Dent?” Two-Face forces himself to meet the man’s eyes, even as his heart beats faster when they make eye-contact.
“Who’s asking?” He inquires gruffly, and far too gently for his liking—he can hear Harvey laughing—but attempts to look intimidating anyway. The Riddler seems unphased, and even brightens considerably when Two-Face speaks, and Harv wants to cover his face with his hand to shield the flush he knows is there.
“Edward Nygma, also known as the Riddler, but you may call me Eddie.” The man, Eddie, says pompously. He speaks like he thinks he’s the best—not in a disrespectful way, but like he knows that he’s better than everyone else, and god dammit arrogance shouldn’t be this cute on someone.
What the fuck, Harv, comes Harvey yet again, sounding both incredulous and amused, and Two-Face blushes impossibly harder.
“Harv,” He replies, and it sounds strangled even to his own ears. “I ain’t Harvey.” Eddie nods once, and Harv gets the distinct impression that he’s gathering data on something.
“Right, so you only go by Harvey when he’s fronting.” It’s not a question; He’s stating a fact, in full self-confidence, and this time Two-Face does lift a hand to obscure as much of his face as he can while still looking casual and not like he’s currently freaking the fuck out. He thinks he should be surprised that Eddie knows DID terms, but he gets the feeling that this strange man who is making Two-Face act like… well, like this, knows everything.
“Yeah,” He confirms, as if it needed confirmation when Eddie so obviously just knows it. “The wimp likes to take the backseat more often than not.” Eddie leans back on his bench, never taking his eyes off of Harv.
“Interesting.” He says, steepling his fingers, and then Harv has to remind himself to breathe because he’s getting fucking studied by a man with a dashing grin and for some reason he can’t fucking take it.
You’re being ridiculous, Harvey tells him as if he doesn’t already fucking know that.
Eddie eats in silence for a while, not looking up at Harv again, and for some reason that brings back his urge to shoot someone.
Oh how the mighty do fall, Harvey faux-sighs. Didn’t know you could like anyone that way, and yet here you are, with a guy you’ve just met.
Shut up, pretty boy, or I’ll make you, Harv snarls back, crushing his coffee cup in his scarred hand slightly.
Not my fault you’re an emotionally stunted lump who doesn’t know how to deal with a crush, the wimp snarks back.
Not a crush.
Yeah right, it’s just hot in here, that’s why we’re blushing.
Shut up!
I’m only trying to help! Talk to him.
I’m not taking relationship advice from you; the last girlfriend you had tried to kill us.
You’re not ruining this for us; He’s clearly intrigued by us. Talk to him or I will.
Please, you can’t fight the drivers seat from me to save your miserable life.
Our miserable life, you mean; and I can too, I did it with Bats, I can do it here as well. Unless you want to flip the coin for it, that is.
At the wimp’s mocking tone, Harv forcefully pushes him down. Still, he figures he might as well do what the kid says—not because he has a ‘crush’ or some shit like that, but because Harvey did have a point earlier about getting allies. And the up-and-coming supposed criminal genius seems like a powerful ally to have.
Two-Face looks up again at Eddie, getting prepared to say something despite having no idea what to say, and is met with golden eyes already watching him. It sends a strange shiver down his spine, to know that the Riddler had been studying them while they had been talking amongst eachother, and he finds that for the second time today whatever words he had been about to say die in his throat.
“You two were having an argument.” Eddie states, bailing Two-Face out of his speaking trouble, and again, he says it like it’s not a question, but a fact. It’s all Harv can do to nod in affirmation, faced as he is with curious bright eyes.
“What about?” Eddie asks him with a smile, like he already knows the answer, and Harv feels his face heat up yet again. At this point, he’s getting real tired of fucking blushing.
When Harv doesn’t answer, Eddie simply props his chin up using his elbow on the table and leans to the side casually, giving Harv a playful smirk.
“You don’t talk much, do you.” He says, and yet again, it’s not a question. Harv removes his hand from his face to glare at the man, trying and failing to regain control of whatever situation this is and make himself look intimidating.
“And you talk enough for the both of us,” He says gruffly, making Eddie grin, and fuck he wants to make Eddie grin like that a million more times he’s going insane. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”
“Apologies, apologies!” Eddie says, putting his hands up placatingly while smiling and not looking sorry in the slightest. Still, he falls silent, and Two-Face immediately wishes he hadn’t said anything. He needs to--wants to-- doesn’t mind it when Eddie talks, which is surprising considering when anyone else does it he wants to rip off his ears.
They both stay silent for a couple of minutes, Eddie eating without looking up or talking, before Harv decides fuck it, might as well.
“Heard you had a good crime run out there,” He speaks finally, and Eddie immediately brightens and looks back up at him, like he’s actually excited and happy that Harv’s talking to him. It makes Harv feel way too hot under the collar and he’s blushing again and oh fuck he needs to stop thinking- “What happened?” He manages to choke out, and instantly an annoyed expression takes over Eddie’s face.
“The Batman happened, that’s what,” He says with an eyeroll, and the sheer disdain in his voice makes Harv feel light and bubbly and gross. “I was in the middle of rigging the town hall for explosion when he showed up and cheated. Didn’t even answer the riddle I had laid out for him; Just attacked me and disabled the bomb by force!” Eddie growls, then, and that sound really shouldn’t sound so seductiveprovocative attractive, and yet here they are.
“Yeah, this city has a definite vermin problem.” Two-Face snarls, thinking of all the times the Bat had screwed him over—the latest instance especially.
“You can say that again!” Eddie agrees with a groan, leaning in closer to Harv, who finds himself copying the redhead’s movement. “I had planned it all out too—the sixth site of my debut as the Riddler, with a frankly elementary riddle which any seventh grader could answer; what is brown and has a head, a face, a tail, but no legs—and yet the winged rat still chose to cheat, and then lunge at me like a barbarian—proof that brawn can triumph over brains with just brute force I suppose—” Man this guy talks a lot. He’s lucky he’s got a pretty voice.
“It’s a penny, right?” Two-Face interrupts Eddie’s rant. “The answer to the riddle?”
“Yes, exactly!” Eddie says loudly, seemingly indifferent to Harv interrupting him; Indeed, on the contrary, his previously pissed-off expression brightens to one of intense joy. “See, if you can get it, I don’t see why the Batman couldn’t even try!” Said by any other person, Harv would’ve slit their throat—but instead of sounding like an insult, coming from Eddie’s mouth it just sounds like another fact.
The Riddler likes riddles, eh? Bit on the nose, that, Harvey pipes up, seemingly listening in again. Harv ignores him.
“Well, I am a bit biased on the matter.” Two-Face tells him, gaining some of his usual confidence back, as he flips his coin up into the air again for Eddie to see. He tries to resist the urge to grin at Eddie, fails miserably, and ends up fucking smiling at this guy he just met. Two-Face never smiles at anyone, unless it’s a threat—Harvey’s more of the smiling type, and yet, he can’t help it when he sees the immediate interest in Eddie’s face.
“Yes, of course, you work on chance.” He says lowly as if speaking to himself, staring at the coin in Harv’s hand. He’s strange, Harvey ‘helpfully’ chimes in. Definetly some kind of crazy, but still attractive.
Shut up, Harv orders him for what feels like the hundredth time, ignoring the way his heart picks up again in his chest.
“Well anyway, the Batman caught me and threw me in here,” Eddie continues, breaking out of his weird contemplative state and rolling his eyes again. “Got five to seven. You?” The sudden switch-up from angry tirade to indifference throws Harv for a loop for a second, floundering as Eddie looks at him imploringly with those golden eyes.
“Fifteen to twenty,” He replies bluntly, when he gets his voice back. “Did a job on the Mint, got caught by the Bat after Harvey here refused to pull the fucking trigger.” The end of the sentence turns to a harsh snap, as Harv directs it to his other half.
When are you going to let that go? The wimp sighs.
When I know for sure we won’t have to spend the next two decades in this fucking shit-hole! He snaps back.
Eddie gives Harv a sympathetic look, before leaning back again with a smile, and it’s only then with the distance restored that Harv registers how close they’d been before and fights down another bloody blush.
“Well, no worries,” The younger man says, suddenly cheerful again. “I’ve got a way to get out of here; it’s only a matter of time.”
“Yeah, sure, kid.” Harv scoffs sarcastically, his cynicism overshadowing his nerves momentarily. Every new inmate thinks they’re gonna escape Arkham easy as pie; You hear it all the time, some new patient preaching of their grand plan to leave. Usually after their first month or two, they’ve lost hope.
“What, you doubt my genius?” Eddie says, teasingly, as he cocks his head to the side with a smirk, and Harv has to look away and cover his face with his hand again as a now-familiar heat crawls up his neck and face once more.
God, you’re a mess, Harvey laughs at him, and Harv grips his coin in his hand hard enough for it to dig into his skin painfully. Where’s Big Bad Harv now, huh? Defeated, confronted with a handsome man!
I’m gonna fucking kill you when we get out of this, Two-Face snarls back at his other half, who only laughs again.
“Oh Harvey, aren’t you going to introduce us to your new friend?” Comes a sultry, very unwelcome voice, and Harv turns angrily to face Poison Ivy, who’s looking between Two-Face and the Riddler smugly like she’s asking to get punched in her pretty face.
Be nice, Harvey tells him, which Harv pointedly ignores.
“Fuck off, Weeds.” Two-Face snaps at Ivy, already done with her shit. I swear to fucking God if she ruins this-
Relax, Harv, she can’t do anything, Harvey reassures him, suppressing some of his more murderous urges.
“Aww, is that any way to greet one of your old friends?” Ivy says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and sticking out her hip provocatively, and Harv gets the distinct feeling that he’s being challenged for something. Her eyes slide over to Eddie, and she smiles slyly. “But you, on the other hand, are new around here. The Riddler, right?” Harv is absolutely delighted to see Eddie’s expression immediately sour, going from happy and teasing to completely disinterested.
“I believe Harv told you to leave, woman.” He says dismissively without looking at her, and his tone of voice makes it clear that he thinks she isn’t worth any of his time. It’s Harv’s turn to smirk at her as her eyes quickly narrow in offence.
“Sheesh, I expected that rudeness from Harvey, but we could’ve been friends, new stuff.” She tells him, crossing her arms. Eddie looks up at her then, clear contempt in his eyes.
“I’ve heard about you, Pamela Isley, so riddle me this; why would I want to be ‘friends’ with someone of such obvious inferior intellect and, indeed, merit in general?” He asks coldly, wrinkling his nose in disgust in a gesture that makes Harv smirk at her even wider. Ivy’s nostrils flare with anger and she turns away from them angrily.
“Fine, who needs you, anyway?” She snaps, sauntering back over to her table to the others, who were all clearly listening in on the conversation. Eddie sniffs scornfully as they both watch her go, and the sound is like music to Harv’s ears.
“A friend of yours?” The younger man questions him, raising his eyebrow slightly at Two-Face.
“Don’t even get me fucking started.” Harv growls in response, taking his crushed cardboard cup and downing the rest of his long-cold coffee in one gulp. Eddie smirks at him, and Harv gets the feeling Eddie understands exactly what kind of ‘friendship’ he and Ivy have.
“You’re an intriguing man, Two-Face. Intriguing indeed.” He says, steepling his fingers again, and it comes out sly and downright dangerous, and Harv suppresses a shiver. The notorious mob boss falls silent under the Riddler’s surveying gaze, and they simply… look at each other for a time. It should feel awkward, or weird, but it feels natural, like flipping his coin—automatic and easy and oh-so addicting.
What the fuck is going on, comes Harvey’s voice, bewildered amusement shining through, right as the bell to mark the end of mealtime rings. Immediately Eddie breaks his position, still smiling like he knows something Harv doesn’t. He pulls his arms in, smooths out his orange jumpsuit gracefully (and Harv instantly is stricken with the image of Eddie in a form-fitting, expensive suit and has to shift on his bench for completely normal and totally not pervy reasons) before nodding professionally at Harv.
“Well, I suppose this is where I leave you, hm?” He says, and Harv tries and fails to not feel disappointed. “It was quite a pleasure becoming acquainted. I think you and I are going to become fine friends.” He smirks at Harv again, and the crime boss feels his heart pick up the pace yet again, before promptly picking up his tray and walking off without a second glance, leaving Harv to stare at his retreating back with a mix of awe and pure dread.
Well, Harvey pipes up after a beat, sounding smug. That was certainly something. Harv ignores him, instead forcing himself to swallow past his dry throat. He goes over their conversation in his head, thinks about every grin and smirk and look that Eddie have him, and suppress a delighted shiver. He feels almost the same way he does before a heist; Like he’s standing at the edge of a very steep cliff, and can’t wait to dive straight off the top.
You know, I take it back, He says, almost to himself, lips curling into what he knows is a cruel and dangerous smile. Things might just be starting to look up.