Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

The Last Time

    Wearing only a bra and underwear, I lie atop my bed. Oswald lies beside me, shirtless and in black boxers, as we both stare up at the ceiling.

"...I love you Oswald. I'll always love you," I confess, my head turned away from him.

"I know, and I love you too. But...why tell me now?" he asks, looking over to me.

I laugh, "Because I could be dead tomorrow."

"Nonsense," Oswald protests, "I'll protect you. It's just...how can I possibly protect you if you keep running off on me?"

"I told you Oswald, I don't want your protection."

He rolls over and places his hands over my shoulders, "Well, you're getting it whether you like it or not."

Oswald snickers, before kissing me on the cheek, "I promise you. Now that I've assumed a position in the Court, all I need to do is start a domino effect. A mob war between those affiliated with the Court, Don Falcone's people, and those who are not-"

"Aka...Don Maroni and his men," I finish for him.

He nudges me in the arm, "You're getting it."

He climbs up on top of me, and leans down to kiss me on the lips, "But before I can begin my conquest, I will need a proper army and arsenal. And that requires money, so, this morning I plan on squeezing out a little extra from Don Maroni's fishermen."

I reach up, and run my hand through his hair, "Good, I was worried you were going to hold me hostage past morning."

I start climbing out of bed, when Oswald grabs my arm, "I said 'this morning'. It's hardly morning yet, come back to bed."

With a sigh, I throw my body back onto the mattress, as Oswald creeps up and wraps his arms around my waist. I curl up next to him, nuzzling my nose into his chest. Despite the cold weather and lack of clothing, his body is surprisingly warm.

"Don't leave," he murmurs, his hands gliding up and down my back.

I frown, "...I don't know if I have a choice-"
"Yes you do," he interrupts, "you underestimate my ability to care for you."

"Perhaps, but you overestimate my ability to trust and forgive," I counter.

"And how have I wronged you?"

My eyes widen as I give him a knowing look. He sighs, "Fine, but only proportionate to what you've done to me."

I shrug, "If you say so."

He leans his head in until our foreheads touch, "...I want to tell you something, something I've never confessed to anyone before."

"Go ahead."

Oswald purses his lips, before taking a deep breath, "I have an infatuation with Detective James Gordon."

I nod, "Yeah...not surprised there."

"Wha-what do you mean? You've never even seen an interaction between he and I," he stutters in surprise.

"Mhm, but I know your type. Lazlo, Frankie...both slightly stiff, confident men who stand almost unbearably straight, often with their chests puffed out. Gruff exterior, with the possibility of a soft side. Am I wrong?" I ask.

Oswald shies away, remaining silent even as his nervous expression appears to agree with me. He rolls up his adult body into a ball, his eyes like a child.

"Thank you...for understanding my sickness," he murmurs, keeping his head down.

A small smile forms on my lips, as I reach out and take his hand, "Hey, one upside to working for the mob: they won't fire you if word ever got out."