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iv-kplpt · 8 years ago

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build our own luck [the agency au part two]

i was feeling like crap, thanks to my least favorite day of the year - so i decided to write something as self indulgent as it gets. in this one, there is actually no plot or drama; i just wanted to write about charlie and oswald living their lives. and nothing bad happens to them. it’s TREAT YO SELF: the fic, basically. writing it made me feel warm and fuzzy. it’s a nice feeling.

19k words rated m

During the months that followed, Charlie often felt uneasy; she was smart enough to know leaving the Agency wasn’t as simple as using primitive blackmail. What she did was desperate and blunt and could easily be used against her; but she willingly put herself under the sword of Damocles, feeling this is the path she was meant to follow. Perhaps she was blinded; but she didn’t mind. What was born between her and one of Gotham’s many masked criminals definitely felt real - and maybe it was foolish, diving headfirst into the unknown, sinking in his eyes and melting under his touch. Perhaps it was rash and unwise, forfeiting months of training and embracing her moral numbness - but it just felt so damn good.

Oswald’s next big plan was to finally have his revenge for a tragedy that befell his family when he was a child; his father was pushed to a suicide and his mother was unrightfully locked up in Arkham Asylum and people responsible for it took everything from him, every last penny, every last shred of faith in people’s good nature - and he was so, so very close to getting definitive, damning proof of that. It wouldn’t bring his family back - but it sure as hell is nicer to weep in luxury, than in poverty.

“Don’t get me wrong, I will spill some blood.” he told her one day. “A lot of it, actually - but it’s time for the name Cobblepot to return to the top. Don’t you think?”

“You know I’m on board with everything.” she muttered in response, trying to catch last minutes of sleep. “You incubus.”

He laughed and kissed the skin between her shoulder blades and she smiled blissfully.

Her role in his plans wasn’t complicated, but it definitely was significant; someone had to scrub his criminal records clean and to re-introduce him to Gotham as a shining example of virtue; he wanted to take back what’s his not by force - but by making people want to give it back to him. She was supposed to handle his good PR - while he’d take care of the behind-the-scenes, more dirty aspects.

“I’ve already arranged everything. I got in touch with the best damn burglar money can buy.”

“Why don’t you steal it yourself?”

“Because I’m too lazy.” he replied with a shrug and she laughed. “And Catwoman? She has a well-earned reputation of being reliable. Why risk fucking it up if I can pay someone to… Not fuck it up?”

“Smart.” she said; she was sitting on the couch in her hotel apartment - or rather their hotel apartment. Oswald had planned his official return in detail; since he was going to resurface soon, Charlie threw the first pebble of the upcoming avalanche and allowed him to temporarily move in with her. They had a whole story, ready for anyone curious enough to ask questions. A very pretty, completely fake story; one of those fairytales that only seem to happen to the rich and the beautiful.

“Of course it’s smart, I’m brilliant.”

“Uh-uh.” she muttered, glancing at the screen of her laptop. “Alright, the British should really work on their security… And training their detectives. They never got half the stuff you’ve done.”

“That’s because they kept underestimating me and overlooking obvious clues. But I don’t mind. It’s their loss.”

It was a late afternoon, and Charlie was putting some of her skills to use by reworking Oswald’s records from his time in the UK; she was no master hacker - if she was she’d probably be working for the Agency’s IT or intel department - but she was trained well. Oswald never let himself be known as a high-profile criminal, and he never gave the police enough evidence to link him with the Penguin; his files were barely protected and it only took her half an hour to wipe out the bad parts and rework the semi-decent ones into something heart crushingly good.

“This is almost too easy.” she complained jokingly, saving the photographs from a gambling bust onto her hard drive. “Or maybe I’m simply overqualified.”

“The latter, definitely.” he said; his phone dinged. “Would you look at that! The physical copies of my files had gone missing. What a shame.”

“Yes, what a terrible, terrible loss.” she said, retracing her footsteps and covering her tracks, just to make sure no one will discover what happened. “So, you’re now officially clean. The Agency files still remain, but the Agency has files on everyone, not only their targets… Meaning you’re now a model citizen. How does it feel?”

“Boring as fuck.”

“Yeah, socially acceptable behaviors tend to be boring. Honestly I’m almost sad, you just lost your bad boy charm. No gambling, no illegal boxing matches, the dishonorable discharge wasn’t really spectacular… It’s a good thing I’ve seen how awful you are.” she finished with a smile, turning her laptop off.

“It’s also a good thing I’m a handsome devil. Good looks can make anyone interesting.” he said with a wink, and she giggled; they had this conversation a few times before, between reuniting and making his grand plans reality. He was talking about Bruce Wayne, his childhood friend who grew up with almost everything Oswald had lost, partially thanks to Bruce’s father - and a man Charlie encountered a few times during her stay in Gotham. He was pleasant, not her type and rubbed her the wrong way; but she was as nice to him as possible, knowing this influential playboy has a bone to pick with Louise, who used to also work for the Agency. At first it was all just a front, a way of not making her fellow agent’s life more complicated; but then it became reality. Charlie and Louise had both left the Agency - and the further Bruce Wayne was from Charlie’s personal life and her involvement with Oswald’s revenge the better.

“Now what?”

“Now… We wait.” Oswald said with a shrug. “Kyle should be done with her job on the night of Dent’s fundraiser, which is when, in a week?”

“A week and a half. Louise got me an invite.”

“How nice of her. I keep forgetting she’s working with that guy.”

“If he becomes the mayor, she’ll probably take over as the new DA. Can he even appoint her as his successor?”

“Don’t ask me, american law is an enigma to me. This country is so needlessly complicated, almost as if government's sole mission was to fuck its people over as much as possible. Do you think that’s what Washington planned?” he asked suddenly. “Do you think he dreamed of creating a free country that’d coincidentally be the most complicated place on Earth?”

“I don’t think he planned that far ahead. I think his plans only went as far as kicking the Brits out, then he started to make shit up as he went… And look at America now. Totally not worth it.”

“Bold statement coming from an ex federal agent.” he said and she laughed; all was good between them ever since she abandoned the Agency for his sake. Many people would say he pulled her to the dark side, that he dragged her down; but she didn’t care. Some people are not meant for greatness or goodness; perhaps she was one of those souls meant to be cautionary tales. All that mattered was the fact she was in love - it didn’t matter how bloody and dark his plans were. She could take it.

Eventually the night of the fundraiser came; Oswald was supposed to face Bruce for the first time in years. Charlie - who officially didn’t know anything about Oswald’s history with the Wayne family and was simply playing the role of a bubbly, young socialite making new connections - was bringing him with her as her plus one, marking the beginning of Oswald’s slow return to the top. She’s been in Gotham for a while now, and was slowly becoming recognizable; it was good time for them to start their show.

“Nervous?” she asked him as they were getting ready to leave; but he shook his head.

“Excited.” he replied simply, buttoning his shirt. “I’ve been waiting for this moment to come.”

“Mmm.” she muttered, sitting down to take care of her hair and face and he glanced at her reflection, tying his tie.

“Oh, good choice.” he said, seeing her reach for the benitoite earrings he gave her. “Those fit you.”

“It’s my favorite pair, you know.” she said playfully, picking up a string of pearls. “How do I look?”

“Distractingly gorgeous, as usual.” he said as she got up, smoothing down the fabric of her dress - a simple, cocktail pencil piece with bateau neckline in a deep blue color few shades darker than her eyes. It was one of her favorites; it went with almost everything.

(She favored pencil dresses and skirts; they were simple, elegant, graceful and looked nothing like more voluminous clothes she wore as Penguin’s masked accomplice. Her civilian clothes were all about simple elegance and subtlety with occasional flashes of tasteful ostentation; what she wore when robbing banks was all about the drama.)

“You look great as well.” she sighed as he was fixing his tie in place with a pin. “You look good in suits, you know?”

“I look good in everything.” he replied and she rolled her eyes, unable to contain her smile. She meant what she said - he looked damn good in formal wear.

“Narcissus.” she said, picking up her purse. “Come on. We’ll be fashionably late.”

“Planning a dramatic entrance?” he asked as they were walking down the hallway, towards the elevators.

“Let’s save dramatic entrances for another occasion.” she said, alluding to their alter egos. “Do you think he’ll be happy to see you?”

“Who, Bruce? Doesn’t matter.” Oswald said with a shrug, following her into the elevator. “Do you like him?”

“He seems pleasant. Kind of boring, but definitely pleasant. I can see myself developing a crush on him, if I was a different person.” she said, glancing at him. “But luckily I have a more refined taste.”

“Luckily indeed.” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist as the elevator reached the ground level and they walked out, a picture-perfect couple like many others.

They were fashionably late; and on their way to the Wayne Manor Oswald got a message from Catwoman, a thief he hired to steal a crucial piece of evidence for him; she succeeded and was ready to meet him to make an exchange whenever he was ready.

“Well that went remarkably smooth.” he said after Charlie read the content of the text to him; he was driving and she - sitting in the passenger seat - insisted on him acting reasonably. “That will put Falcone in my pocket for the time being.”

“Catwoman.” Charlie said thoughtfully. “I remember her files. No one ever got anything that could lead to uncovering her identity.”

“She’s good. Sinks her hard-earned money in state of the art toys, steals blueprints, prototypes… It’s a good thing she didn’t fuck up. I’d hate to have to get rid of her.”

“What, you’d send your men to bring you her head on a silver platter?”

“Silver? No, I wouldn’t settle for silver. I’d go with gold.” he said nonchalantly and she laughed.

They weren’t the only ones running late - Bruce Wayne himself was late as well and had yet to make an appearance as they showed up.

“God, I forgot just how posh this place is.” Oswald muttered, looking around the hall. “See this closet right there? Used to be my favorite hiding spot back when I was a kid.”

“Oh, you’ll have to show me around.” she said quietly, glancing at him. “Lots of memories?”

“Tons of them, actually. I think I broke Alfred’s favorite vase… Right here.” he said, stopping near an elegant, empty table. “Bruce took the blame. He was a good friend.”

“Maybe he still is a good friend.” Charlie suggested softly, standing next to him; he pulled her closer without a word.

“If it isn’t Gotham’s most disgusting couple!” they suddenly heard a familiar voice coming from behind them; when they turned around - Louise was there, holding a glass of wine. “Fashionably late. How delightful.”

“Entrance is everything.” Charlie said with a smile, brushing Louise’s cheek with her red lips.

“Now that’s a weird thing.” Louise said, looking at Oswald. “I’ll never get used to seeing you out and about. Feels wrong.”

“Hidden in plain sight.” he replied, nodding slightly. “Where’s Wayne?”

“Has yet to show up, so… Be patient. Be patient for Harvey.” she giggled, glancing in the direction of her - visibly stressed out - superior. “He’s losing his mind. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“I’ll see you later.” Oswald said quietly, brushing Charlie’s temple with his lips. “I have some spying to do.”

“Take care.” Charlie replied quietly and walked away with Louise.

“Harvey!” she called out to Dent, who looked in their direction.

“My god.” he said tiredly. “You haven’t seen Bruce anywhere, have you?”

“It might be a good time to issue a search party.” Louise suggested. “But in the meantime… This is your potential voter, try to squeeze money out of her. Charlie, this is Harvey Dent, the better of two candidates. And better remember that.”

“Pleased to finally meet you in person.” Charlie said with a smile as Dent was shaking her hand. “Your posters are in the hall of my hotel. Staff makes sure no one vandalizes them.”

“It means my campaign is working! Good.” he said with a smile of relief. “I take you’re the school friend Louise mentioned once or twice..?”

“If you mean the girl everyone called Heinz behind her back, then yes, that’d be me.” she said, bringing up one of many details of her - completely fake - backstory.

Dent was a pleasant, honest man who wanted to make a difference; he had strong opinions about crime and corruption and Charlie gladly decided to financially back his cause, for some good citizen brownie points.

The evening was going smoothly, especially since Bruce Wayne decided to finally show up; considering how calm he appeared Oswald probably didn’t confront him.

(She spotted Oswald drinking wine straight out of the bottle and shot him a disapproving look from across the room; he winked at her in response. Later she saw him talking quietly with Alfred, Bruce’s butler; she wondered how did the old man react to the sight of his master’s childhood friend, all grown up.)

And then, Carmine Falcone showed up, unexpected and uninvited; Charlie and Louise were in the corner of the room as he walked in and Oswald quickly walked up to them, looking angry.

“That wasn’t part of the plan.” he stated, glancing in mafioso’s direction; head of the mob seemingly didn’t notice him, too busy offending the interior of Wayne Manor.

“You should go.” Charlie said hastily, handing him the car keys. “Before things turn ugly.”

“Oh, they will turn ugly once I get to Falcone.” Oswald promised her with a dark smile. “But you’re right, tonight’s not the time.”

“Keep your murderous schemes to yourself, thank you very much.” Louise hissed at him. “Go! I’ll take her home.”

“So better put that wine down, miss lawyer.” he said mockingly and slipped away, one last time glancing in the direction of Falcone, who was trying to get Bruce Wayne to shake his hand.

“Christ.” Louise muttered, finishing her wine. “So, how are you two doing?” she asked finally. “Do you want to kill him, or do you still claim you’re in love with him?”

“I love him.” Charlie said firmly. “We made up. Did the Agency reach out to you?”

“No, they just took my letter and fucked off, which is… Concerning. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Louise sighed. “Even though I think they really took him off the hook… We should probably make sure he doesn’t make it back to the list.”

“He’s reasonable.” Charlie said, deciding to act on her belief partners should support each other. “But you’re right.”

They both turned around when Falcone looked in their direction, in order to avoid him spotting them; he probably remembered them from his auctions, especially Charlie and her joy after getting her hands on Cobblepot family memorabilia.

“What is Falcone doing here?” Charlie asked quietly and Louise shook her head.

“Beats me, but this can’t be good. My gut tells me some shit’s about to go down. You better watch Oswald, he might do something stupid.”

“I’m not his babysitter.” Charlie protested faintly and Louise snickered.

“No, but he desperately needs a voice of reason. And this is when you come in… Because there is no point in suggesting you to become his conscience.” she added. “God, you really love him. This is unbelievable.”

“What?”

“Your face. That’s the face normal people make when they see Chris Evans. You… Make that face when you’re talking about Oswald. What do you see in him?”

“That’s not how love works. It’s just… Him.” Charlie said with a shrug. “As a whole. But I guess what I see when I look at him is… A promise. And a sense of belonging, not in terms of ownership and property, but placement.”

“That’s poetic and I can hardly argue with that.” Louise sighed nostalgically. “But that ownership thing… I thought he’d be more territorial. More of a jealous asshole, considering his general attitude towards… Well, everything.”

“Maybe he simply trusts me. Maybe he sees a difference between objects and people.” Charlie said lightly. “Also there’s a matter of me repeatedly telling him he stole my heart. I think he got my subtle hints.”

“Ah, but you never know. Remember: he’s a man. They’re simply not conditioned to get subtle hints.”

Louise drove Charlie back to the Peak that night, since Oswald took her car; the apartment was dark and empty, as Charlie noticed with a sigh.

She took a shower and went to bed; and few hours later she was woken up with a phone call.

“Yes?” she muttered, still half asleep, barely holding the receiver. “What is it?”

An anxious night-shift receptionist was calling to ask if she can go downstairs; an angry man was demanding access to her apartment. Charlie groaned, got up, put up a bathrobe and shuffled out, wondering how exactly is she going to murder the person responsible for waking her up.

“Charlie!” she heard Oswald’s voice. “This young man right here wanted to call the cops on me, can you believe it?!”

“Hardly.” she muttered, glancing at him and sighing at the sight of a blood staining his clothes and face.

She turned her attention to the panicked young man behind the counter; he was probably new, considering she had never seen him before. More seasoned staff members quickly learned to pay no attention to chatty man living with Schiller-Aberdeen in 362.

“He’s checked in with me.” she yawned, sleepily taking Oswald’s hand and stroking it with her fingertips. “Can you keep this whole thing to yourself… Liam?”

“Naturally!” the young man assured her ardently. “I am so terribly sorry for the problem.”

“It’s nothing.” she muttered, pulling Oswald towards the elevator, desperate to get back to bed.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” Oswald asked as the elevator doors closed and Charlie sighed deeply.

(She didn’t mind seeing him covered in blood; but not at three AM when she was half asleep.)

“Alright. What happened?”

“I think I killed a guy.” Oswald said with satisfaction. “Two of ‘em tried to jump me and Bruce… So I showed them what happens to people who cross Oswald Cobblepot.”

“Oooh.” she said with a faint smile; she liked watching him fight. He was quick and deadly and relentless and it created a beautiful contrast with the memories of his kisses and tender touches. “And how did the meeting go? Exchanged any gossip?”

“Well, one thing I know for sure is that Bruce Wayne grew up to be a prick.” Oswald said, rolling his eyes. “The apple didn’t fall far from the tree it seems… But that will only make my revenge feel even better.”

“Uh-uh.” she yawned. “Did you ask him about Falcone?”

“Well, Bruce claims Falcone showed up uninvited, but… I don’t believe him.” Oswald finished in a low tone. “I don’t believe a single word he says.”

“Sucks to be him.” she yawned; the elevator stopped at their floor.

She simply wanted to go back to sleep; but Oswald wasn’t done talking.

“My god, Oswald.” she said finally, her eyes closed. “Look. I love and support you, but I’m going to kill you if you don’t let me sleep.”

In response he only laughed, finally shutting up; few minutes later she felt his warm body next to her and smiled as he wrapped his arms around her.

***

He put his plans in motion soon after. Bruce Wayne’s good name had been dragged through mud and Falcone had been arrested, after GCPD anonymously received a complete documentation of his criminal empire - stored on a drive Oswald hired the elusive Catwoman to steal.

“Oh, this is beautiful!” he said as they were watching the news, a live relation of police’s attack on Skyline club. “Something tells me a lot of land will soon be up for grabs. Should I invest in real estate?”

“Yes, but don’t count on me visiting you there. I… Don’t like heights.” she confessed and he laughed. “One thing the Agency never made me unlearn: fear of heights.”

“Then it’s a good thing penguins are flightless birds.”

Carmine Falcone died few days after being arrested - he was killed, and the killer left no trace, disappearing like a ghost; but somehow - looking at Oswald and listening to his melodious humming - Charlie knew who’s directly responsible.

“Did you kill Falcone?” she asked him one evening; it took him a while to answer.

“Yes.” he finally said, lazily running his fingers through her hair, wrapping the red strands around his fingers, pulling gently. “He deserved it.”

“Mmm, I’m not questioning it.” she purred, thinking back to the massive file the Agency had on him and his entire family. “I just want to know just how much blood exactly do you have on your hands.”

“Mmm. And why’s that?” he asked, sliding his hand down her back. “Do you want me covered in blood, Charlie?”

“Maybe.” she responded, closing her eyes. “Maybe I do. A girl can dream.”

(His bloodied hands, leaving smudges on her skin; his bloodied lips, leaving a metallic aftertaste in her mouth. A girl can dream - and her dreams were of violence.)

“This girl in particular.” he agreed, gently lifting her chin with his other hand and leaning in to steal a kiss from her, like he did many times before. He was so violent, so merciless; but his kisses felt like peace.

He took her with him next time he claimed a life in revenge; his plan was to dispose of cowardly Hill and to put a final nail in the coffin of Bruce Wayne’s good reputation by exposing what Thomas did to his mother.

From what Charlie saw and heard, Oswald missed his mother dearly; she was a gentle soul who always strived to see beauty and hope in the world. What happened to her, what happened to the entire family - was ugly and dark and so, so unfair. Sins of the father are not sins of the child, and Bruce shouldn’t be paying the price for his father’s crimes - but for Charlie Bruce was just one step above a regular stranger. What Oswald was going to do to him wasn’t just; but she didn’t mind. Maybe she was blinded, maybe she was corrupted - or maybe she simply wasn’t a good person.

“This is going to be a masterpiece.” Oswald mused as they were gearing up in one of Penguin’s hideouts. “Most memorable night in Gotham’s history.”

“More memorable than the night when the Waynes died?” Charlie asked, ruffling her hair; the Pinniped - as opposed to elegant, reserved Schiller-Aberdeen - always had her hair in a state of mess, an uncontrollable mass of locks and curls. It was a good disguise; so far no one seemed to connect the dots.

“Way more memorable.” Oswald assured her, tying his tie. “Archie! The serum.”

“Here.” Tennyson said, throwing Oswald two identical syringes, filled with translucent liquid. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“It’ll do.”

“What’s that?” Charlie asked as Oswald put the syringes in his pocket; in response he snickered.

“Very concentrated truth serum my most skilled accomplice cooked up for me in her spare time, between getting into Wayne’s good graces and writing very passionate articles.” he said with a smirk; he was talking about Vicki Vale - a journalist who originally reached out to him with her findings regarding the true nature of the Cobblepot family tragedy. She was cunning and calculating and very, very good at chemistry. “It exposes the most primal, basic instincts, one’s truest nature and most repressed desires. And in bigger doses… It just makes people really aggressive.”

“Oh.” she said with a nervous chuckle, thinking back to that one time when the Joker drugged her. “Just don’t use it on me.”

“There’s no need. It’s been… Thoroughly tested. Besides - it’s reserved for people I’d rather see dead.” he said with a shrug and a reassuring pat at her back.

Finally, the grand moment came; they crashed the debate between two candidates - and Gotham wasn’t too pleased to see Penguin. For the last few weeks, people thought he disappeared off the face of the Earth; perhaps he got hit with a stray bullet. Perhaps a blade found its way between his ribs. Perhaps he got bored. But no - there he was, in the spotlight, making his grand speech about debts and crimes and punishment.

(Looking at him from behind her mask Charlie wondered if he really did think it through; the pot calling the kettle black.)

All eyes were on him and he reveled in this attention; he had a penchant for theatrics. Vicki Vale played her role well, her hands and voice shaking in a very convincing way; though when no one was looking she rolled her eyes and Charlie nudged her with her bat, muffling her own laughter. Oswald seemed to love listening to the sound of his voice - personally she found it charming. It seemed like Vicki found it obnoxious.

They carried their plan out smoothly; Hill’s true nature was exposed, and so was the fate of Esther Cobblepot.

When Oswald turned his attention to panicked Dent - it was Charlie’s moment to shine. She jumped between two men, as if shielding Dent with her own body.

“Not him, no!” she said, letting Gotham believe there were first cracks among Penguin’s associates.

They let Gotham watch as he pushed her aside and cocked his gun, ready to take Dent’s life; they let Gotham watch as she threw herself at him and as he gripped her wrist so tightly she was sure there will be bruises. They let everyone see this staged lover’s quarrel, this game of lies. They threw their bait, letting Gotham believe Penguin’s scorned accomplice might come to their aid.

“You have quite a grip.” she said later that night, examining her bruises in front of a mirror. “You threw me like a ragdoll.”

“It had to be convincing. Was it convincing?”

“Well, if it wasn’t for me being used to your grips and throws…” she said with a playful smile, rubbing some lotion into her skin; it was a healing concoction, one that would render her bruises practically invisible in no time. “What now?”

“Now we wait.” he said with a yawn. “In a few days Wayne Enterprises board should decide it might be best for Brucie to step down. And that’s where I come in… A tragic hero with spotless record, brought back to Gotham by his beloved, unaware of his tragic history.” he said with a theatrical sigh. “Et voila.”

“This is the most elaborate heist I’ve ever seen, I’ve got to admit.” she said, leaving the bathroom. “I’m impressed.”

“I’ve been planning it for months.” he said lazily. “Vale helped, obviously, even though she pushed for more… Extreme measures. She wanted to take over the city. Me? I just want a front for a criminal empire.” he yawned. “God, I’m so tired. Killing people is exhausting.”

“I can imagine.”

*** Oswald got what he wanted so badly - Bruce Wayne was forced to step down as CEO and Oswald was picked to replace him. All his plans lead to that point, to that decision; the beginning of a new chapter in Cobblepot family history.

“There was no other option.” Charlie claimed with a smile as Oswald was getting ready to confront Bruce. “How shall we celebrate… Mister Cobblepot?”

“I was thinking champagne.” Oswald said, reaching for his cufflinks. “But first I want to look Bruce in the eye. I want to see his face when he realizes he lost.”

“A sight to remember.” Charlie agreed lazily. “I’ll drop by the Wayne Tower later. What exactly did you tell the board?”

“A sob story, naturally.” he replied, rolling his eyes. “And as a result I now got a whole new life handed to me, including a platinum credit card and a penthouse. My puppy eyes are a weapon of mass extortion.”

“Oooh, does it mean shopping for furnitures?”

“Yes. And I will gladly let you drag me from store to store. Everything for good PR and a well earned reputation of a charming gent. How do I look?”

“Like a handsome devil. Go, charm Regina Zellerbach out of her pants.”

Few hours later she paid him a visit in his new office. It was a weird feeling, visiting the Wayne Tower to talk to Penguin - but it worked.

She came in at just the right moment - as she shuffled into the room that would soon belong to Oswald Bruce Wayne landed a punch on Oswald’s face. A shattered remains of a glass box between two men told her everything she needed to know; she gasped audibly as Bruce gave Oswald a black eye.

“Bruce!” she and Regina Zellerbach called out simultaneously.

“He lost his bloody mind!” Oswald claimed, sparks of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Did you see that, love?!”

“You know him?!” Bruce asked angrily, turning around and facing her. “Him?!”

“I didn’t know!” she lied, opening her eyes as wide as possible in a display of innocent ignorance. “I didn’t know you two have history together!”

“What do you mean you didn’t know?!” Wayne exploded, as Regina hurried outside to get security. “What game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing games.” she said coldly, walking up to Oswald and taking a look at his eye. “I’m a newcomer and don’t know every detail of Gotham’s history. All I know… Is that you just punched my partner. Please don’t involve me in your dick measuring contest.”

“Mine’s bigger anyway.” Oswald muttered and she scoffed, even though she knew he knows she’s actually amused.

“Go to hell, Oswald. Go to hell.” Bruce said angrily, to which Oswald only shot him a cold smile, not quite matching his majestic black eye.

“I’ll say hi to your parents once I get there.” Oswald said politely and Bruce Wayne left his office, leaving Oswald behind as the new lord of the land - triumphant and content, even despite a black eye.

“I think that’s it for my friendship with Bruce Wayne.” Charlie said, glancing in the direction of the massive door. “I don’t think there will be more tea invites. Not after you called me love. Did you do it just to piss him off?”

“That is a remarkably dumb question, love.” Oswald replied and she laughed, shaking her head.

He touched the skin under his eye and hissed quietly.

“Christ, I didn’t know this wimp can throw a punch like that!”

“Another piece of your martyrdom.” she said, sitting on the surface of the massive, wooden desk. “The news story is practically writing itself.”

“Yes, and it will be one hell of an article.” he muttered in response, critically looking at a nearby bookshelf. “I think I’ll throw this one out and replace it with a giant fish tank. What do you think?”

“I think you should take some interior design classes.” she said, lightly tapping the surface of the desk with her fingertips. “Come here, you martyr.”

Zellerbach came back in a perfect moment - just to see Charlie placing butterfly light kisses on Oswald’s latest bruise. They moved away from each other as the chairwoman cleared her throat.

“Well, that was an unpleasant accident.” Oswald stated, fixing his tie and innocently looking at Regina. “What had gotten into him?!”

“No idea.” the chairwoman replied coldly, as Charlie slowly got up. “I take it… This is the partner you mentioned?”

“That’d be her, yes.” Oswald said, briefly glancing at Charlie. “My partner in crime.”

“Oswald!” Charlie scoffed, hiding her smile. “Be serious.”

“This is very interesting, mister Cobblepot. How comes nobody heard about this affair, if you don’t mind me asking?” Regina asked, turning her attention to Charlie.

“When I first visited Gotham we were still a work in progress. A long distance work in progress.” Charlie lied smoothly. “I wasn’t aware of all the details and no one ever asked about my relationship status, so… It never came up.”

“It’s mostly on me.” Oswald added lazily. “I insisted on keeping it like this, lest it would wreck her good reputation and I’d be seen as a parasite.”

“Well, in a few days you’re going to become a very public person.” Regina warned him. “We scheduled the official announcement for Saturday. Brace yourself, mister Cobblepot. Your every step will be watched… Same goes for people you surround yourself with.”

“Oh, I’ll be on my best behavior.” Oswald assured her politely. “I’ve got everything to lose. No rash decisions, no outbursts… I won’t make the board regret this decision.”

(Something in Regina’s eyes told Charlie at least one member of the board probably already regrets it.)

“I’ll be going now.” Charlie said, smoothing her dress out. “Catch me later, so we can get down to furnishing.”

“Someone already arranged a meeting with a designer.” Regina said with a sour face. “Already had been taken care of. The company really wants to keep its good name.”

“Wonderful! Charlie, love… See you later.”

“I’ll get that champagne.” she said before leaving and he nodded vigorously.

He looked like he was in his element - an important position, lots of people following his orders, lots of money, not a whole lot of responsibility.

Bruce Wayne called her when she was buying a bottle of champagne in one of Gotham’s most expensive stores.

“Hello, Bruce.” she said cautiously, putting a bottle in her basket and briefly glancing towards wines.

“Did you know about this?” Bruce asked, skipping the greetings. “His family history, my family history… It’s oddly convenient that he decided to come back just as my corporation needed a new figurehead.”

“Of course I didn’t know!” she assured Bruce, rolling her eyes. “Though to be fair… He does have every right to be angry.”

“You’re on his side?!”

“Of course I’m on his side, we’re in a relationship! Also we live in the same hotel apartment. I think I’d notice if he was involved in some shady business.”

(Like killing the mayor, drugging the candidate and exposing the true nature of Thomas Wayne.)

“Somehow I know you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce.” she sighed. “Get some rest, collect your thoughts. You’re paranoid. You’re lucky I even picked up, after your little show at the tower.”

“He’s not worth it, Charlie. This affection, this concern, you, you… He’s not worth it.”

“Oh, but he absolutely is worth it.” she said firmly. “If anyone in this situation doesn’t deserve me - it’s you, since clearly you can’t tell the difference between me and Oswald. See you at the press conference, Bruce. I hope you’ll come to your senses.”

She hung up and the cashier - young woman, named Betty - gave her an understanding smile.

“Men.” she said, shaking her head.

“Men.” Charlie sighed theatrically, swiping her card. “And they say us girls are petty.”

(Lying to Bruce Wayne was as easy as breathing, and she felt no remorse for leading him astray; he meant nothing to her. Their friendship was never meant to be; all it was was just another part of Oswald’s plan, another detail of Wayne’s ruined reputation. His father took everything from Oswald - so now Oswald was taking everything Thomas worked for, piece by piece. His son’s happiness was very high on that list.)

Oswald came home soon after her; he wasn’t needed, as all he had to do was to stick around for the IT guys to get him into the system. He seemed very pleased with himself as he opened the door.

“New era is beginning!” he announced. “Penniless, no-good crook Cobblepot is gone. I’m now the richest no-good crook in all of Gotham! God, I sure am glad I killed Hill and Falcone. I’d hate to be number three.”

“And I’m the best liar in Gotham. What an unstoppable force we are!” she giggled from the couch. “How’s your eye?”

“Hurts like shit, but reminds me of good ol’ times. You could always kiss it better, you know. I’m not going to mind. In fact - I demand it. I demand all the kisses I so rightfully deserve.”

“What, did success go to your head so quickly?” she asked playfully as he walked up to her. “You’re bossy. But it’s alright. I like it when you’re bossy.”

“What a funny coincidence! I also like being bossy.”

Next few days were relatively peaceful - Oswald achieved his main goal, so all that was left to do was for him to officially move into his new apartment and begin his new life as Gotham’s brightest, most tragic and most noble star. Officially, he and Charlie came as a joint package; she brought him back to Gotham, after all. It was only fair she remained in his new life - especially considering being in love would be the best PR move of them all. Nobody knew anything about Wayne’s private life - and Oswald made it his mission to be everything Bruce never was.

So nobody as much as batted an eye when they went shopping for furniture together, after planning out the interior design of Oswald’s brand new nest, located - naturally - in best part of Gotham. Oswald insisted on a bed frame with columns, claiming they are absolutely imperative to his wellbeing.

“But why?” Charlie asked, insisting on something way more simplistic.

“This is not a conversation we should be having in front of other people.” Oswald said with a wolfish grin. “But let’s just say… I think you’ll like it.”

“Alright.” she said, giving up. “Have it your way… But I’m picking the couch. And chairs. I need something with comfortable arm rests.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“...can’t you be decent for thirty seconds?”

“I am perfectly decent.” he said innocently. “I’ve got no idea what are you talking about.”

She nudged him with her elbow and they carried on, taking care of one room at a time; Oswald seemed overjoyed at the perspective of furnishing and decorating a luxurious flat.

(Of course he insisted on a bathtub with colorful lights.)

Eventually all that was left was a trip to the tailor, to get him some better quality clothes; and he turned out to be extremely picky.

“Those two jackets are identical, Oswald. Identical.” Charlie groaned after third hour in the tiny, posh shop.

“Don’t you see the difference in shades?!”

“Obviously I do not. You look good in both, by the way.”

“Mmmm.” he muttered, critically looking at his own reflection, same way he did for the past three hours. “No, something’s off…”

“Jesus Christ.” she muttered and he snickered.

“Hey, everything about this new me has to be impeccable. Beautiful flat? Check. Tragically beautiful backstory? Check. Irresistible charm? Check. You? Check. My clothes should represent everything I stand for.”

“So buy this one.” she said, throwing a blood-colored tie at him.

He did end up buying the red tie, and a wide collection of other things; he left his measurements and address and - when he wasn’t looking, too busy admiring his own reflection, like a very bloodthirsty peacock - she sneakily bought him a pair of ruby cufflinks and a matching sapphire tie pin; they were pretty and in her colors - a gift sappy enough for a young couple and showy enough for social elite.

(The cashier seemed tormented by their presence in the shop and she couldn’t blame him - Oswald was unbearable. It was endearing - but also insufferable.)

“Maybe we should wear matching outfits.” Charlie suggested jokingly on their way home; they finally checked out of the Peak and moved their stuff to his new place. They still had a lot of unpacking to do, because they kept getting distracted - mostly by each other. New furniture needed testing, after all. “Wait. Should I even be there, if I’m not affiliated with Wayne Enterprises?”

“Of course you should be there, I have an image to maintain and people to dazzle.”

“...and that’s the only reason?”

“Of course not, and you know it. Or do you want me to spell it out for you?”

“Mmmm. Yes.” she said, not looking at him. “Why do you want me there?”

“Because…” he said, wrapping his arm around her as they were walking down the street. “Because I love you and am so, so thankful for the part you played in this thing. Also because I want to see Brucie squirm. But mostly because you played a role in this thing as well… And I love having your eyes on me. Good enough answer?”

“Yes.” she said as they entered the building. “Good enough… But I think I didn’t quite hear the first part. Care to repeat?”

“The one about me being grateful?” he asked playfully as they were waiting for the elevator.

She pouted and he laughed; but later that night he gave up and told her what she wanted to hear. He told her multiple times, as he peppered her skin with kisses and as she ruffled his hair, trying to pull him closer.

*** The morning of the press announcement came and Charlie wasn’t nervous; why would she? Everything seemed to be working perfectly for them. Oswald - despite Louise’s claims of being a terrible actor - was playing his part well; he was polite, eloquent, charming. He hid his apparent thirst for blood and other darker urges deep underneath; and watching him get dressed up in the morning Charlie almost forgot about the blood he spilled and things he stole.

(She almost forgot about their circumstances.)

“Wear these.” she said, handing him the gift she bought him yesterday. “It’s… A present.”

“Marking your territory?” he asked with a smirk and she scoffed. “I’ll wear them with pride.”

“You better.” she said, disappearing in the bathroom; she had a lovemark on her neck to cover up.

She left the bathroom dressed up and proper; Oswald watched her as she was putting her shoes on, elegant ankle strap pumps.

“You know, I quite like it when you’re all prim and proper and elegant.”

“Why so?”

“Because it creates a beautiful contrast with the way you are when we are alone. Not quite so proper, not quite so elegant… And definitely not quite so articulate.” he said with a smirk. “People look at you and see a graceful, reserved young woman. I look at you and see… More restrained person.” he said, laughing at his own innuendo; a reference to when they were testing out their new bed and he finally revealed why he insisted on the columns. It was a long night for her, as he refused to give her what she so desperately wanted - not until she admitted his idea was good. And it took a lot of convincing to make her crack, a lot of gentle persuasion - but in the end his silver tongue prevailed and she called his name out tearfully, barely able to arch her back due to her restraints.

It was a fun night - even if it left her with new bruises she had to hide. Other people didn’t need to know the details of their intimacy; even if she sometimes entertained the thought of going out with her bruises exposed - he now had a reputation to maintain. No point in spicing it up with easily misinterpreted bruises.

“Same goes for you, actually.” she said as they were leaving the building. “You come off as charming and polite, but I know you’re actually an insufferable prick.”

“Ah, but also a very handsome one!”

“Infuriatingly handsome.” she admitted, thinking back to that one time he pulled her undies down with his teeth and winked at her, making her blush furiously; he then insisted on having her eyes on him, as a motivation to keep being nice.

She thought about it a lot.

“Do you remember about tonight?” he asked as they were driving towards the Wayne Tower.

“Yes. You’re taking me out for dinner, right?”

“Yes, now that I can actually get a reservation at Lafontaine’s, instead of threatening the owner.” he said and she laughed, thinking back to their first date. “New chapter is beginning. Excited?”

“For a glamorous life as Wayne Enterprise’s CEO’s armcandy? Very. Months of the Agency training are finally paying back.”

He winked at her and she blew him a kiss.

When they arrived, he helped her get out of the car and she brushed his cheek with her lips, giving the reporters what they wanted - a tiny window into Oswald’s private life, shrouded in mystery. Gotham’s prodigal son seemed to be a loner of sorts, only seen in the company of his dazzling paramour or her friends; Penguin had a deal with his men, keeping them as far away from Oswald Cobblepot as possible. It fit Oswald’s image quite well - his story was sad, so it was obvious he was a tragically lonely person, rarely trusting anyone. It was a good facade, a perfect fake surface - and Charlie and Oswald maintained it flawlessly, in their expensive coordinated outfits, pleasant smiles, lovestruck gazes and the way he wrapped his arm around her waist and the way she looked at him when he talked with Bruce.

And it wasn’t a pleasant conversation, even though Oswald made Bruce say pretty please. She nudged Oswald with her elbow when she heard the change in his tone; it was something she was very familiar with. Even without looking at him she knew exactly what face is he making.

“My god, Oswald!” she whispered.

“Shhh, darling, restrain yourself.” he whispered back.

“I’ve got a better idea: you do it.” she said, causing him to slightly tighten his grip around her, in a promisingly threatening way. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

Wayne’s last speech didn’t go as planned and she could see Vicki Vale in the front row, furiously taking notes; she looked at Bruce with disapproval. Deep inside, she really hoped he’ll come to his senses and just accept what happened - but no.

(His wild theory about Oswald being involved in some shady stuff wasn’t even that far off - but Charlie knew that cold glimmer in Oswald’s eyes and the coldness of his voice. She was the one who dreamed of his bloodied fingers, leaving smudges on her skin; people of Gotham only knew his charming smile and eagerness. Nobody believed in a single word Bruce was saying.)

Finally, Oswald - as politely as he could, watched attentively by Zellerbach - got Bruce off the stage and took his place. She followed him with her eyes, tilting her head slightly; she wondered if he can feel her gaze, same way she so often felt his on her skin.

Wayne didn’t look great - in fact he looked sick, pale, his eyes fixated on Oswald’s face. He seemed shaky, unstable; concerned - mostly about Oswald - Charlie quietly approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Bruce?” she said quietly, and Vicki Vale watched out of the corner of her eye. “Is everything alright? Bruce?”

She put her hand on his shoulder, he slowly turned his head and looked at her, and his eyes were hazy - and then he pushed her aside. He was surprisingly strong and caught her off guard; she lost her balance and would fall down, if it wasn’t for a nearby reporter catching her.

The commotion got people’s attention; before she knew it - Wayne was holding Oswald by the fabric of his shirt. Oswald was shockingly calm, and taunted Bruce; but lost his patience very quickly.

Charlie walked up to them and once again tried to talk some sense into Wayne. Once again she put her hand on his shoulder - to which he let go of Oswald, turned around and caught her by her neck, tightly wrapping his fingers around her throat, choking her. His grip was strong, and she knew she’s going to black out in a moment; but then Wayne suddenly let go of her.

It wasn’t a pretty fight, and Oswald ended up with his knuckles bloodied and new bruises on his face; she was left with a bruised neck. Bruce was left with his reputation completely tarnished; and the press conference was over, with Oswald assuring the journalists he’ll gladly take their questions any other day.

Shaken Charlie was escorted to Oswald’s office, which was in the process of being redecorated; the fish tank was already in place - but it lacked fish.

Oswald joined her few minutes later, putting an ice bag to his latest bruise.

“What was that?!” she asked him as soon as he walked in. “Was that planned?”

“Not by me, that’s for sure. Usually my plans don’t include me getting pummeled into the ground.” he scoffed. “Neither they include you being choked by Bruce Wayne. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” she sighed, rubbing her neck. “I guess it looks worse than it feels… Though I do prefer when it’s you choking me. You know. “

“You’re still yourself, that’s good.” he said with relief. “I think I know what happened… And if I’m right - I’m going to kill Vicki Vale. I’m going to slit her throat-”

“As much as I appreciate the perspective of you covered in blood… Maybe don’t do that.” she interrupted him hastily. “Come on, Oswald. No harm done, Bruce’s reputation destroyed… Bruises will heal.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Oswald sighed heavily. “Though I do not appreciate the pain. Should I cancel the tonight’s reservation?”

“Are you kidding me? No, of course not! We now have to wear those bruises with pride… Also I really want to try that crème brûlée with raspberry sorbet.” she added and he laughed. “Every time we were at Lafontaine’s we had to stop before getting to the dessert. Maybe those bruises will bring us good luck?”

“Third time’s a charm, so you’re probably right.” he agreed, gently brushing her neck with his fingertips. “Do you think you can fake a breakdown?”

“Aw, trying to get away from work? Bored already, Oswald?”

“I have to be careful.” he said with a shrug. “Gain their trust so they go with changes I’m about to suggest… And going home to take care of someone in hysterics will probably earn me some of those good guy points.”

“Alright, I can be a delicate flower.” she agreed. “Watch out, mister, from now on you have a dainty and fragile lass to take care of.”

Her fake breakdown was a masterpiece, even though she nearly broke the character as Oswald was walking her to the elevator.

“You sure as hell look dainty and fragile when we’re alone and you’re begging, you know.” he whispered into her ear and she quickly turned her laughter into sobs. No one questioned her tears and shivers and how tightly she was gripping the fabric of Oswald’s clothes; Bruce Wayne was allegedly her friend. Of course she was in shock.

“Oh, that was bloody brilliant.” Oswald stated as they got into the car. “You almost convinced me.”

“I almost convinced myself.” she said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror; her eyeliner and mascara were very effectively smudged and the skin around her eyes and lips was rosy. “Come on. Let’s go home, I want to take a nice, long bath before dinner.”

On their way home, Oswald tried to reach out to Vicki - but to no avail. She wasn’t picking up her phone; and Louise claimed she has no idea where is she, stating they broke up a while ago.

“Then maybe I should pay her a visit.” Oswald mused. “Maybe I should gather my boys and pay miss Vale a visit. And then… We’ll talk.”

“Or you could not do that and lure her out instead.” Charlie suggested. “She’s not your enemy, Oswald. Remember, she helped a lot. This probably is just a misunderstanding.”

“You know, I wouldn’t have anything using her serum on Bruce.... If only she told me beforehand. So I could be prepared. You know. I’d come up with a speech, maybe a sharp, witty quip… But this? This ruined a perfect day.”

“Oh, come on. Stop being overdramatic and don’t let something like this ruin a moment of triumph. I’m alive, you were seen as a noble knight, Bruce Wayne was seen as highly dangerous… When you think about it, it’s actually a perfect scenario!” she continued, until - eventually - he smiled.

“You know what? You’re right. You’re right. This is my day. I got a chance to punch Bruce and rack up some social approval points. I’m going to just take a deep breath… And proceed with what I had planned out.”

“...well that sounds surprisingly ominous.” she said jokingly. “Should I be scared?”

“Very.” he said with a cocky smile as he was parking the car. “What, didn’t I tell you? Dinner’s not the only thing I had planned in terms of… Celebration. We’re on top, Charlie. This should be a night to remember.”

“Alright, surprise me then.” she said, getting out of the car. “Just let me take a bath first. And maybe make me some french toast. I’m hungry, but I don’t want to stuff myself before dinner.”

“Ah, you’re such a demanding mistress.” he said jokingly. “Can your humble servant at least get a kiss?”

He got a kiss from her in the elevator, just the way she liked it; with his hand on her back and his finger under her chin. It always made her feel vulnerable, but she didn’t mind being vulnerable around him, despite all odds. Her vulnerability wasn’t a tactical disadvantage - but a source of satisfaction.

Also he looked disturbingly hot with dried up blood splattered on the collar of his shirt, a proof of what happened earlier that day.

“Now make me that toast.” she muttered after stepping into the apartment. “And I’m going to take a bath. God, I can still feel his fingers on my neck.”

“He’ll pay. But as for now… Just relax.”

She took a long, relaxing bath, only interrupted by Oswald bringing her her toast - and his french toast was the stuff dreams are made of. Not sickly sweet, with just the right amounts of brown sugar and cinnamon, with just a hint of nutmeg, crunchy… She had no idea who taught him that and why, but it sure as hell was a useful skill. Completely useless in robberies and arms dealing - but perfect for making her feel at peace. Oswald Cobblepot truly was a man of many talents.

He cornered her some time later. She was trying to figure out the expiration date on a jug of apple juice when he walked in; and she could feel his eyes on her bare legs. He often said he loves the way she looked at him - but the truth was, she also loved the way he looked at her; he always looked at her as if he was planning something positively unspeakable. It was very flattering - and very effective.

“You’re staring.” she said, without turning around. “What is it?”

“You’re wearing my shirt.” he shot back; and he was right, she was wearing one of his better dress shirts, with pearl buttons. “I want it back.”

Something in the tone of his voice told her the correct answer, and she smirked; they played this game many times before, this game of cat and mouse where she’d rather get caught than run away.

“Come and get it then.” she said, putting the jug back in the fridge.

She dove under his arm and bolted out of the kitchen and he followed; it didn’t took him long to catch up to her. It never did, because she never actually tried to put up a fight. Why would she? She liked what came next.

“Nooo!” she wailed as he threw her over his shoulder. “This is not fair!”

“Life’s unfair.” he stated. “Stop squirming, you’re not getting away.”

He got his shirt back, and she got something better; she got his touch and his kisses and his teeth on her neck. His fingers crept between her thighs and she sighed and smiled as he peppered her skin with kisses; on her neck, on her breasts, on her stomach, lower, lower, lower.

He had a wicked tongue, and he often used it to bend people to his will; most often he used honeyed words or sharp threats to do so. In her case, however, it was all about the direct approach - and all about pleasure and shivers and making her arch her back as he teased and taunted her and she moaned and gripped the bedsheets.

He got her to the edge - and then he stopped.

“What?” she muttered feverishly, her face flushed and her thoughts and eyes hazy. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m just trying to make our dinner interesting, that’s all.” he said innocently, sliding out from between her legs and resting his chin on her abdomen. “Speaking of which… We should leave soon.”

“You are the worst.” she stated, running her fingers through his hair. “The absolute worst. You’re cruel and insufferable and generally a prick.”

“All part of my charm, love.”

She laughed and pushed him off and got up to get dressed, knowing it will take a lot of time for the warm tension that built up in her body to go away.

Naturally, he wasn’t going to make anything easy for her. As she left the bathroom - wearing her trademark black lace underwear they both seemed to love - and opened the closet to decide on which dress to wear he cleared his throat.

“Mmmm?” she asked, not turning around. “What is it?”

“I want to see you squirm.” he said and she turned around. “Interested?”

“Oh, very.” she said at the sight of red rope in his hands; they’ve done it before, except that’d be the first time she was among the people with rope under the fabric of her clothes. It was an exciting thought - something hidden in plain sight, a knot pressing against her and the growing sense of desperation.

“Do your magic.” she said. “Just don’t make it too tight.”

“Don’t give me ideas.” he said, already wrapping the rope around her waist.

After he was finished and she tested it out - not too tight, not too slippery, just perfect to make focusing on anything else difficult - he smiled with satisfaction.

“Maybe I should get us last minute opera tickets.” he said and she shot him a terrified look. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m just joking. I hate opera.”

“So that’s the only problem here? How comforting.”

She put her dress on - simple and black, with a classic leg cut and Queen Anne neckline, directing the attention to her neck and dark bruises on it. She didn’t wear any necklace that time; only what drugged Wayne did to her. A simple, dramatic statement; for a brief moment she considered poking herself in the eye to make it red, but she gave up on the idea.

“I’m good to go.” she said eventually, putting her hairbrush down and picking her clutch up. “Also hungry.”

“Same on both fronts.” he said, putting on his midnight blue jacket; with a sting of satisfaction she noticed he’s wearing the cufflinks and tie pin she gave him. “So let’s go. Just… Don’t speak French to Moreau if we bump into him. He might figure you out.”

“Oh, I doubt it. He was scared shitless every time he saw me, I don’t think he’s going to connect the dots. But alright, no French tonight… Outside of kissing.” she added and he laughed, making her feel as if she had a bunch of butterflies in her stomach.

It’s been a couple of months since she returned to Gotham after putting everything on one card and leaving the Agency; quite some time had passed since they made up and she earned his trust again - and it still felt like the honeymoon phase of a relationship. She didn’t mind, not at all.

Lafontaine’s main room was well lit, spacious and filled with warm colors and Charlie smiled lightly, thinking back to her secret meetings with Oswald in the vip room located at the back. This time was going to be different; this time everyone knew and all eyes were on them, even though everyone was pretending they’re not staring at Oswald Cobblepot and his paramour and dark bruises on her neck. He seemed confident and polite, keeping his head high and she smiled as he pulled out a chair for her.

(Her breath got shaky for a moment as she was sitting down, the knot pressing against her. So much for the perfect gentleman Cobblepot.)

“I feel like a caged animal in the zoo.” he muttered quietly, so quietly only she could hear him. “Everyone’s staring.”

“I thought you like attention?”

“I do, but I also value my privacy. Also I look out of place.” he pointed out, brushing his jaw with his fingertips; and he was right, in a way. His suit was impeccable; but his face was rough. He was very nice to look at - but his bruises and scar did stand out quite a bit. She could only imagine it’s even more visible when observed right next to her own - rather delicate - features.

“Maybe a bit, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. I like your face.” she said, picking up a menu. “Oh! They changed the selection a bit.”

“Maybe I should skip hors d'oeuvres.” he muttered, winking at her; she quietly laughed, covering her mouth. “And dessert.”

“Somewhere in the afterlife our ancestors are very scandalized.” she said, not looking up from her own menu. “I’m not though, I’m… Intrigued.”

“Patience, darling, patience.”

It was a pleasant evening, even if she could feel other people’s eyes on her skin; strangers looked at their every gesture and tried to eavesdrop on every word, every quiet laugh. She wondered what do those other people see when they glance at them, unaware of blood on his hands and a piece of rope under her dress, what do they see when they look at the way he pours wine for her.

Naturally, he made her squirm a bit; by making her laugh and by lying to her about her lipstick being smudged, which caused her to get up and go to bathroom - and this short walk left her feeling very tense.

“How about a walk before heading home?” he asked playfully after regulating the bill. “The weather’s perfect…”

“You prick.” she whispered back as they were walking towards the exit. “You ass.”

In response he only laughed, pulled her closer and planted a light kiss on her cheek.

“You’re digging your own grave.” he whispered into her ear. “We’re now going… To the opera.”

And he wasn’t joking - he forced her to endure a long spectacle, as they sat in the darkness and his warm hand rested on her thigh and he planted a light, almost mocking kiss on her neck. The much desired release seemed to be very far away.

“Can we please go home now?” she asked eventually, as they were slowly walking down the street.

“Oh, maybe. Why do you want to get home so badly?” he asked casually; she looked around, glancing at other people, who definitely were close enough to hear her if she spoke normally.

“Because I don’t want to be arrested for public indecency.” she said nonchalantly; an elderly couple nearby shot her a scandalized look. “And I’m afraid it’s about to happen.”

“You raise a fair point. Fine, we’re going home… Away from the prying eyes. Just you, me… And all the things I’m going to do to you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She found out soon enough, and it was a long night for her; she ended up with more bruises and bitemarks and his relentless, merciless teasing turned her into a feverish, bumbling mess under his touch, taunted with fake promises. He wasn’t feeling gentle, and she didn’t mind, not when he pulled her hair, not when he dragged his nails across the sensitive skin of her thigh. It was a long night, and when she finally wrapped her legs around him he laughed in her face and claimed she’s going to break his ribs. He kept laughing as she bit his arm and scratched his back and pulled his hair and only stopped laughing as she kissed him, her breath hot and shaky.

It was a long night and her body was sore, but it was a good kind of sore; one that can be soothed by falling asleep in someone’s warm embrace.

*** He woke her up by dropping a newspaper on her back.

“What?” she muttered without moving, still on her stomach, her cheek pressed to the pillow and her eyes closed. “Can’t it wait?”

“It can, but I want to see your reaction. Come on, Charlie. Rise and shine.”

“Make me.” she muttered, to which he grabbed her ankles and pulled. It worked; fully awake Charlie crawled back into bed and rolled onto her back, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, cripes.” Oswald said, seeing the mark his teeth left on her right breast. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I like it when you bite me.” she muttered, reaching for the newspaper. “Oh hey, it’s an article about you fighting Bruce in my defense. That’s a damn good photo.”

“Turn to page six.”

“...what?” she said after rereading the header for a few times. “This is bullshit, I didn’t have an affair with him!”

“I know you didn’t, but I still wanted to see your reaction.” he said, visibly satisfied. “Since officially we go way back… Congratulations, Charlie, you cheated on me with Bruce Wayne. You bewitched him completely.”

“Stop it!” she pleaded as he laughed. “This is giving me the creeps, I’d never see him like this!”

“Oh, this is beautiful. And this alleged quote? Him saying If I can’t have you, no one can? This is absolutely hilarious.”

“Who the hell gave them that quote? Oh, it’s from an anonymous source. Of course. It’s been less than twenty four hours and we’re already in the center of a scandal.” she sighed. “Does it mean I’ll have to cry on live television, saying I’d never cheat on you and am absolutely heartbroken from those allegations?”

“Most likely.” he said with amusement. “It probably also means we’ll have to tell our beautiful, completely fake story. Everyone’s curious about me. All the eyes are on me.”

“Let’s stage a breakup.” she muttered. “Or not. Let’s keep the lie going. Paint you with the whitest paint in existence.”

“I’d like to remind you about a tiny, insignificant detail: we’re together for real. Me being a good person is a lie, us being head over heels for each other… Not so much. Let’s not make it any more complicated, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” he said very seriously. “I’ve got a corporation to take over. With time I’m going to make people forget about Bruce Wayne. I’m going to be so, so much more lovable than he ever was. Let’s not stage a breakup. You’re a terrific actress, Charlie. I’m sure you can squeeze out some more fake tears.”

“I can squeeze out oceans of tears.” she yawned. “Chill out, Oswald, I’m not bailing out. I’m having too much fun. You seem stressed though.”

“I do? I’m not stressed, I’m excited. I finally got my hands on what I wanted. The possibilities… Are endless.”

“Try to not forget about Penguin though. People might get suspicious if he just disappears.”

“Ah, but don’t you worry about a thing, I’ve got it all figured out.” he assured her. “I can lead a double life.”

“We can lead a double life.” she corrected him. “Last time I disappeared people started to suspect Penguin killed the Pinniped and dumped her corpse into Gotham River. And now they’ve seen me disobey you. I can’t just go away, someone might add domestic abuse to your list of charges.”

“Which… Wouldn’t actually be that bad of a move, strategic wise.” he suggested. “It’s all in the behavior. The more different Penguin and Pinniped are from Oswald and Charlie… The better. As far as I’m concerned, we appear to be a picture perfect young couple of polite, charming individuals. Anyone suggesting we might have anything to do with those violent, overly dramatic and theatrical criminals will be seen as crazy.”

“Wow, you really have it figured out. Alright, it’s your plan, I’m just an accomplice.” she said with a shrug. “For now let’s go with the flow. Planning far ahead… For some reason never works out for me. Case in point: you. That wasn’t planned, and look at me now.”

“Oh, I’m looking.” he said with a smirk. “And it’s as pleasant on the eyes, as Cobblepot is easy on the tongue.”

“You must be really proud of that one liner.” she groaned. “It’s terrible. Terrible. Also I’m hungry. Since you’re not letting me sleep… At least compensate me with food.”

“Only if you’ll agree to accompany me today.”

“...well that sounds ominous. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to visit the cemetery where my parents are buried.” he said flatly. “I...Never got a chance to do it, because at first I was on the other side of the pond, and then I didn’t want Gotham to know Oswald’s back. So that’d be the first time… In a long, long while.”

“That’s one way of starting breakfast.” she replied after a pause. “See, now I’m going to feel weird with asking you for bacon pancakes, now that you dropped this grave revelation on me. Of course I’ll come with you, just… Next time maybe pick a better moment to ask. For a seasoned charmer and a diplomat… You have ridiculously bad timing.”

“No one’s perfect, even though I’m pretty close to it.” he said, and he sounded like he was trying to hide his relief behind a facade of cockiness. Being cocky suited him, same way his meticulously tailored suits and old scars suited him; being a sentimental sap suited him as well - but she could imagine he’s not yet ready to embrace that part of himself.

They decided to put fixing the affair with Bruce mess off for later; naturally they had to do it eventually, as Oswald was the second most watched person in Gotham, newly elected mayor Dent being the number one. The anonymous allegation of Charlie secretly putting penniless Oswald - and the then-developing thing between them, according to the fake story they created for the sake of everyone from outside their inner circle - aside for the sake of charming, monumentally rich Bruce… Wasn’t good publicity.

“Did you know there’s an entire hashtag on twitter devoted only to the Waynes thing?” she said as they were driving in a car and she was on her phone. “Waynegate. It’s booming. Also you should get a twitter. We could be disgusting online.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Aaand I just made a mistake.” she declared, liking a tweet. “My account got verified and I just liked a clip of you decking Bruce with mmm whatcha say in the background. God, people are really head over heels with you.”

“Of course they are, I’m charming, tragic and genuine. What’s not to love?”

She snorted quietly. His narcissism was very blatant - he was semi-decent at hiding it, but he also loved to give in to his penchant for theatrics, showmanship and attention. All parts of his charm; sure, it was a very specific charm, but… She liked it.

“Someone just called you Oswald CobbleHOT.” she announced eventually and he laughed. “Their friends are shaming them for it, but they’re adamant. I retweeted it. For now I’m pretending I haven’t read the news and don’t know anything about any affair.”

“It’s Sunday. Let’s have a day off from public relations and maintaining a good image.”

“But you’ve only been a public person for a day! Tired already?”

“I’m never tired.” he said, noticing a good parking spot. “And if I’m tired, I’m tired of other people, not of accomplishing my goals. Also… It’s Sunday and we’re alone. Let’s be ourselves for a day.”

“Oh, right, I forgot your charming and polite persona is just a disguise.” she teased. “No, no, don’t say anything, I know what you mean. I’m just being an ass, since you want me to be myself.”

“Ah, but that’s the entire point, isn’t it? Me being charming isn’t entirely fake. Same applies to you being sweet and gentle. Because let’s face it - you are a very sweet person. Even when you’re being an ass. Especially when you’re being an ass.”

“Oh my gosh.” she said, feeling a lump in her throat. “Stop it, you disgustingly charming sap. Don’t use your charm against me.”

At that time of day - early afternoon - the cemetery was almost completely empty; it wasn’t a good time for visiting dead loved ones. Maybe for the better; crowded cemeteries felt weird, unnatural. There was no privacy, and the ever present sounds of living felt like the disturbance to otherwise firm sleep.

It was a warm, slightly breezy day; and the grave of Oswald’s parents was located in the older, more elite part of the cemetery. Their last luxury - being buried among the elite, right next to the Waynes, as he bitterly pointed out.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he said as they were slowly walking towards the grave. “Even in death they can’t get away.”

For a forgotten grave, it was surprisingly well-kept - almost as if someone was taking care of it during Oswald’s absence.

“I don’t think it was Bruce.” Oswald stated, looking at the names of his parents inscribed on the tombstone and his eyes eyes looked very shiny. “Since apparently he only just found out about everything.”

“I could check if this mysterious someone left any fingerprints.” Charlie suggested hesitantly, feeling lost. The list of potential candidates wasn’t very long; she remembered Carmine Falcone had a daughter who had a strained relationship with her family, but Sofia lived away from Gotham and Charlie doubted she was aware of exact details of her father’s criminal activities. There also was the daughter of Hamilton Hill, there was Alfred - and that would be it. Even if Cobblepots had any close friends they were unlikely suspects, considering none of them took any interest in Oswald’s wellbeing over the years. Bruce’s good natured butler and the daughters of Falcone and Hill - possibly ridden with guilt over sins of their fathers - were all she could come up with.

“Leave it, it’s not worth it.” Oswald said, not taking his eyes off the black tombstone. “Would you mind if I talked to them a bit?”

“Talking to a grave won’t be the strangest thing you’ve done in my presence, so… Go ahead. Do you want some privacy?”

“No, no.” he replied hastily. “That’s not needed. I’m not going to tell them anything you don’t already know. Dead men tell no secrets… But they also don’t hear any.”

She nodded and gently squeezed his hand; he squeezed hers in return, and for a brief moment he looked more like a scared and lonely kid he once was, than a remorseless criminal he became.

“That’s not how it should have been.” Oswald said finally and she remained silent. “It’s Sunday. I shouldn’t be talking to your grave, I should be talking to you over tea. Both of you should be alive. But you’re not, and there’s no bringing you back - all I can bring back are small pieces of what had been stolen from us. I can use those as a foundation for something new, something bigger… Even if cement between bricks will be laced with blood. I’ve done some truly, deeply reprehensible things, things that go against everything you tried to teach me. But look at where your principles got you, and where mine got me. I can’t say I’m proud of who I am, but I’m getting there. I’m bringing back the good name of our family. I’m starting a new chapter - without the Waynes, without Hill, without Falcone. I cleared the board and now I’m the king.”

He paused for a moment.

“I’m very selective in who I surround myself with.” he said, almost hesitantly. “Scumbags like me, broken like me, angry like me. People I can relate to, people who understand. You wouldn’t like them, but beggars can’t be choosers. Even though I think you’d like her. She’s as horrible as I am, except she’s better at hiding it. Her name is Charlie and she’s standing right next to me. She’s… Helping me. And you know what? Now I understand. Now I understand.”

He fell silent again; after a while he turned his head and looked at her.

“Tell me about your parents.” he said quietly.

“They’re buried in New York.” she replied softly. “I think they’d get along with yours. My mom was a surgeon, and my dad was a politician, with… Ties to the Agency. They were good people.”

“A politician, huh?” he said, his eyes regaining their usual, mischievous spark. “So either that or a good person. Don’t speak in oxymorons.”

“Oh, piss off.”

She smiled and he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets, returning his attention to the tombstone.

“Thank you for coming with me.” he said eventually, not looking at her. “It means… A lot. We could visit yours next week if you want to. I think I can squeeze a trip to New York into my oh-so-busy schedule.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” she said, thinking back to the funeral. “Hey, Oswald?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you. A lot.”

“And I love you.” he replied quietly. “Also I’m going to need your help in doing something incredibly petty.”

“I’m all ears.”

“There’s a photographer stalking us.” he said calmly. “I’ve seen their reflection in the stone, it’s so well-polished. So when we’ll be walking away I’m going to need you to stretch, so I can spit on the grave of Thomas Wayne.”

“Alright, you overgrown toddler, I’m game. He deserves that. Aaaand… Let’s go.”

As they were walking past the grave of the Waynes she stretched, taking as much space as she could; and Oswald slightly turned his head and spat, snickering with satisfaction.

“Happy?” she asked as they were walking towards the gate.

“More or less.”

*** She had to put on quite a show due to the rumors of her having an affair with Bruce - she was very, very curious who came up with that fake quote, who was so desperate to try and wreck Oswald’s spotless reputation by insinuating his partner is unfaithful.

“Maybe it was Vicki?”

“No, I already asked.” he muttered, reading something. “That’s not even her article. She admits to drugging Wayne, but says she has nothing to do with the affair thing. And honestly? I believe her.”

“Wait, hold on. You found her?”

“Yeah, she was hiding from me at the Waterfront. Now that Falcone’s dead it’s much safer. Fish ratted her out. We had a nice chat.”

She raised her eyebrows and he looked up and smiled.

“No, I didn’t break her fingers, if that’s what you’re wondering.” he said politely, answering a question she never asked. “I only yelled at her and threatened to expose her involvement in everything. That convinced her to admitting to drugging Wayne during the conference. She says it’s because she was pissed I refused to go with her impossible revolution. Delusions of grandeur, and so on.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Charlie muttered. “Don’t say anything more, I don’t even want to know. Just… As long as you’re sure she’s not the one responsible.”

“Oh, I’m certain of it. Don’t worry. We’ll get that bastard, and then… We’ll figure something out. You can always go full Gone Girl and fake a diary.”

“Oh my god, you’ve watched Gone Girl? Did you like it?”

“I did, actually. Amy was a terrific - and terrifying - character. Very inspiring.”

“Yeah, that’s an opinion I can get behind with. Alright, I can go Amy Dunne on the press. It can be arranged.”

But first, it was time for tears - a very heartfelt, tearful interview with Cobblepot’s lovely, dainty partner, the girl who brought him back and was absolutely heartbroken at the allegations. Of course she would never cheat on him, she never as much as considered it; she loved him with her whole heart, it was love at first sight, almost like a fairytale.

“He’s a gentleman.” she stated, her skin bruised by handcuffs and marked by his teeth safely hidden under the fabric of her elegant clothes. “A good man, with heart in the right place, even despite everything he’s been through.”

(He laughs as he talks about burning Gotham down; she wonders if someone from the Agency is watching, listening.)

“And how did you two meet?”

“In the middle of a night, in a dark alley… I had a knife to my neck and stranger’s hand up my skirt and that’s when Oswald showed up. He didn’t quite look like a knight in shining armor, in that ridiculous coat of his, but… In that moment I understood how Guinevere felt when Lancelot swept in.”

She gave a serene smile, thinking back to their true first meeting; abandoned warehouse, sense of urgency in the air.

“He’s gentle and kind and I would never hurt him like this. I love him too much. Sure, we had to spend some time apart, but… This idea never occurred to me. I missed him dearly - but there’s no good substitute for Oswald. There’s no substitute, period.”

And so the interview went, filled with half-truths and not-quite-lies and sweet declarations of love. They asked her about their sex life, to which she nervously smiled and stated she’d rather not get into detail, but in general it’s very normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

(His fingers wrapped around her neck feel like the gentlest of kisses, and the constant denial feels like the most generous of gifts.)

She painted their relationship in the most dreamy, fluffy colors possible - and not everything was a lie. She’d never cheat on him, there was mutual trust, they had something special, something she wouldn’t have with anyone else. And Louise - her alleged long lost school friend - confirmed her lies without as much as batting an eye; yes, Charlie already was infatuated with Oswald when they reunited in Gotham. Yes, she wouldn’t shut up about him. Yes, it was unbearable. No, she doesn’t know if she’s the new district attorney, what is this interview even about?

Oswald - who watched the entire thing live on his phone - was overjoyed; he claimed she was terrific and very, very convincing. She wasn’t so sure about that last part.

“Aww, someone on twitter is already over analyzing everything.”

“Anything good?”

“Yeah. lmao “vanilla sex” this is a face of a liar”

“Yeah, to be honest… That was the least convincing part.”

“I wasn’t expecting a question about sex! You know, I had a - very brief - moment of being very close to saying the truth… But there were no good words for it. Also I’m not sure Gotham general population would appreciate me suddenly going he likes to tie me up and make me beg, and he’s good at it, also our safe word is WAYNE and you wouldn’t BELIEVE what he sometimes does before we go out!”

“I can imagine that would be one hell of a scandal, your chivalrous knight actually being a deviant.”

“Deviant in a shining armor and on a white horse.” she corrected him and he laughed and pulled her closer.

*** They were absolutely disgusting together, as stated by Louise and other people unfortunate enough to spend time with them. It was mostly friends she made in Gotham; he was surprisingly antisocial and heavily relied on her in terms of networking. She was good at picking the right people to befriend - smart, capable, influential in some way. Oswald seemed to get along with pretty much everyone; he was simply terrible at making the first step. How he managed to gather a group of loyal people was beyond her; but he found a way.

Her new friends - people she met through Louise, who spent so much time in Gotham she was basically rooted there - seemed to accept him with no problem, occasionally joking about moving up in the social ranks, considering they’re suddenly hanging out with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. The only downside was the fact she had to keep her dainty act up around them; but she was starting to sort of like this role. It was kind of nice, being able to - for a while - forget her training and just be a well mannered, bubbly girl from a good home, a gentle soul, so unlike the wild Pinniped, who seemed to defy her Penguin more and more often, planting seeds of discord among his men. Naturally, it was all an act; all was good between them and his men were simply following orders. Oswald had his eyes set on a particular plot of land; and he was willing to go to great lengths to acquire it. Simply buying it was out of question; so he had to think strategically.

And he wasn’t half bad, Charlie decided; in fact - he was doing good as CEO, slowly gaining more and more trust and respect. He wasn’t able to resist the temptation of spending enormous amounts of money - but it was alright. No one actually expected him to not buy a yacht, or a painting, or something equally useless. Officially and publicly they lived in a way everyone expected them to - they were often seen together, hand in hand, smiling, in love. Eating brunch, attending a fundraiser or a vernissage or a spectacle, shopping. People were enthralled with them as a couple, the way he’d wrap his arm around her waist, the way she’d rest her cheek against his arm, the way they’d lightly kiss before parting ways, the way they’d call each other honey, darling, love.

For his birthday, she reached out to Sofia Falcone, who inherited all of Carmine’s belongings; there still was quite a number of Cobblepot family memorabilia in his collection and she gladly took it off Sofia’s hands. She never talked about it publicly - but somehow the press just knew. He was moved - and that night he was tender and gentle. He didn’t give her any new bruises to hide under clothes; he touched her softly, and she didn’t mind, she didn’t mind at all.

It was a good life. They mostly only had evenings and nights and weekends for each other, so they were making the most out of it; during the day he was busy being professional and competent, and she was busy helping out at one of local dog shelters. She always liked dogs - they were loyal and kind and wonderfully silly and she could spend an eternity surrounded by them.

It also led to Oswald seeing her in pants for the first time - it just… Didn’t happen before. During their months together, he’d only seen her in dresses or skirts - that’s just how the life was.

“What.” he said after bumping into her, as she was wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. “WHAT.”

“...what?” she asked, looking at him. “What?”

“Those are pants. Until now I didn’t even know you have those.”

“...of course I have pants. Jeans, dress pants, yoga pants… You didn’t think I practice yoga naked, right?”

“I… Never thought about it. Shit, I just lost a bet to Louise. I claimed there’s no way you own pants. She said there’s no way you don’t.”

“Do you want to be even more shocked?”

“Oh, I’m not sure if my heart can take it.”

“I also have shoes that have flat soles.” she said, pointing at her feet; he dramatically clutched his heart.

(He later told her she looked beautiful; no matter how many times she heard it from him - it always left her with a flock of butterflies in her stomach.)

***

They reached peak gross at a Halloween party in Virago, shortly after his birthday.

It took them quite some time to decide on their costumes - he insisted on something matching, which narrowed the selection. They toyed with many ideas - vampire and his thrall. The witch and her servant. The most classical duo of them all - angel and devil. They tested out a lot of ideas, mostly through bed - they were like that. They liked to sometimes spice things up with a little roleplay. For his birthday they decided on a very fake, very pleasant kidnapping; it was fun, especially the things he did with a knife.

(She still had shivers thinking about the cold tip of the knife slowly sliding across her skin, sharp edge cutting through her clothes. She wouldn’t mind a reprise.)

The final idea came to them by accident; she was bored and alone at home and he was at a business meeting, charming the pants off potential investors. She wasn’t making anything easy for him; she just bought herself a new, pastel-pink lingerie set and was in the process of demonstrating it to him through photos, when someone on twitter made a dumb joke.

and persephone is back to getting dicked down by hades in the underworld

That was almost like a revelation - the most obvious choice, and probably also the best one. She was so excited she accidentally almost posted one of her - thankfully more coy - photos online; and Oswald agreed that this indeed does sound like the best idea.

So - night of the party had come and they were both ready, clad in their costumes. His himation was dark, and he wielded a sceptre and wore a cypress crown on his head; her chiton was light pink - even though they weren’t sure if ancient Greeks even had this color of fabric - and decorated with flowers. She also wore a crown of flowers in her hair - and also carried a plush Cerberus around under her arm, because Oswald insisted on it, claiming it was too adorable to be left at home.

Under the fabric, an intricate web of rope was wrapped around her body; Oswald outdid himself this time, not limiting himself to a simple knotted piece between her legs. He managed to tie everything in a way that rendered it invisible to someone who didn’t know it’s there; there were no stray pieces, no unnecessary loops peeking from underneath the fabric.

“Oh my god, you look adorable.” he said after seeing her in full costume. “I’m not going to be decent tonight. This shade of pink? Your color. Literally. It’s the color of your-”

“-sensitive parts, yes.” she said, her cheeks red. “Alright, be indecent. I guess no one can expect decency from a god of death.”

“Maybe I should kill someone and cover myself in blood. What do you think?”

“I think I wouldn’t mind, even though it’d ruin our good bedsheets.”

“There’s always a kitchen table, or your favorite chair, or a wall, or-”

“Oswald!”

“Fine! I’ll be good now.” he promised. “Even though I will live up to my costume. I think I know exactly what did Hades do to keep Persephone at his side… Except for the pomegranate thing, that is.”

“Well, color me intrigued.” she giggled, picking up her plush dog. “Come on. We’ll be fashionably late… Again.”

Rumi Mori - their gracious host and owner of the Virago - was dressed up as Dionysus, as Charlie pointed out, nudging Oswald with her elbow; their friends rolled their eyes as they noticed their costumes. Apparently dressing up as Hades and Persephone was obnoxious - even though she could clearly see other, much worse, costumes. Vicki and Louise came as a cat and mouse, for god’s sake.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Oswald asked quietly, watching very chatty Mori. “Remind me, how did your visit go?”

Few weeks earlier Charlie - disguised as the Pinniped - paid Mori a late night visit. This short and round foreigner was a man of many faces; not only he was the owner of a place Oswald badly wanted to purchase, he was also one of Gotham’s leading arms dealers - and Penguin’s main business rival. He was cunning and deceptive, stealing lucrative deals right from under Penguin’s beak; and this was a good occasion to kill two birds with one stone.

So one night Charlie snuck in, alone; it was a dangerous mission, but Oswald had faith in her abilities. She cornered Mori in his office, where he was enjoying a late night glass of scotch.

“Mori, Mori, Mori.” she said, slowly approaching him. “We need to talk.”

Before the plump businessman reacted, she pacified him; he wasn’t an action oriented person, so it was as easy as taking candy from a baby. She sat on the surface of his desk, looking at his mortified face from behind her mask.

“Do you know who am I, Mori?” she asked, crossing her legs; he nodded.

“You’re the Penguin’s woman.” he said shakily; she scoffed and shook her head.

“Wrong answer, Mori. Try again.”

“Y-you’re the Pinniped?”

“Correct. I am the Pinniped. I belong to no one.” she said, glancing at her nails.

(That was a bold lie. She wasn’t Oswald’s property, and he wasn’t hers - but they belonged together, as partners in crime.)

“Naturally, I used to think otherwise.” she continued in a casual, friendly tone that scared Mori shitless. “I used to think I belong at his side, I used to think I belong in his heart, I used to think I’m lesser than him. I used to think so many foolish things.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” he said shakily.

“Don’t interrupt me, Mori. Anyway. The Penguin… This stupid, beaked bastard… Wronged me one time too many. And you know how the old saying goes - hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He underestimated me. He thinks I belong with him. He thinks… He belongs in my heart.”

This time Mori didn’t say anything; he was listening attentively.

“He thinks I’m so, so blindly loyal, you see. He thinks I’m mindless and inert and docile, until he wants me to be aggressive. He thinks wrong. In fact, he does a lot of things wrong. He’s a lousy, self-centered lover… And an egomaniac, in love with the sound of his own voice.”

Those things were almost painful to say.

“He said some things he should have kept to himself - but no, he shared them with me… And now I’m willing to share them with you, to teach him a valuable lesson. Interested?”

“Yes.” Mori said in his most business-like voice. “Please. Continue.”

“The deal is simple: I know when and how Penguin wants to take you out.” she stated. “He hired the best of the best, someone you can’t afford… But luckily, I know someone who can offer more. The only problem is… You have something this person really, really wants.”

“Well?” Mori asked tensely, slightly leaning towards her. “What is it? My treasured jadeite? Secrets of the Waynes? My lucky dice?”

“Virago.” she replied lazily. “I am, naturally, talking about Oswald Cobblepot. He’s a man with many, many connections… And can buy your grim reaper out. Except… He doesn’t have a reason to want to do so. Show him some good will, Mori. Or not - and wait for the inevitable.”

She left Mori that night with something to think about; she played on his fear of death, she planted the seed of fear in his mind - and now the night of truth had came.

“I think it’ll work.” Charlie whispered back to Oswald. “Look at him. This is not a face of a happy man. This is a face of a man drinking his anxiety away. Sorry for calling you a lousy lover, by the way. You’re not lousy.”

“Yes, I think the sounds you make when we’re busy speak more than actual words. Did you ever hear yourself moaning? I should record it some day.”

“Record it all you want, but if you’ll play it to anyone… I’ll stab you.”

“That’s kind of hot. Care to dance?”

“Yes.” she said, before remembering about her rope. “Wait, no!”

But in response he only snickered.

“No taksies backsies.” he hummed, already leading her onto the floor. “Come on, my wife born of spring. Be strong.”

“You ass.” she muttered quietly as they danced and the warm tension started to build up in her body as a result of this maddening friction. “Why are you like that?”

“Several reasons.” he said nonchalantly. “One: I like when people actually ask for things they want from me. Two: being flustered suits you and I enjoy seeing you like this. Three: I’m an asshole, plain and simple.”

“Well, at least you’re self aware.” she breathed out, hiding her face in his arm. “Heads up. Mori’s walking towards us.”

“Mm. Will you be good when I leave you to make the deal?” he asked, gently raising her chin with his fingers; people were watching, as he leaned in and kissed her lightly, just before Mori tapped him on his shoulder and he turned around with a polite smile.

They disappeared for an hour or so; Charlie spent this time chatting about everything and nothing with Vicki and Louise. They didn’t as much as mention the conference incident; there was no need for it. Vale and her ambitions were an enigma of sorts for Charlie - but she decided some mysteries are better off unsolved. She didn’t need to know everything; she was alright with being just a piece of the puzzle, rather than the puzzlemaster.

Finally Mori and Oswald returned; Mori looked serene, while Oswald looked like a very satisfied, fat cat, barely containing his grin.

“Don’t worry about a thing, mister Mori.” Oswald assured him, wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist. “Your problem’s as good as gone. Now, have you met my fair lady?”

“Didn’t have the pleasure.” Mori said, briefly glancing at Charlie, nodding slightly and returning his attention to Oswald. “You’re a good negotiator. You inherited your father’s blood.”

He bowed and left and Oswald followed him with his eyes, his polite, amused smile getting fainter and fainter and his eyes getting darker and darker. Charlie felt a shiver run down her spine; unimpressed Louise sipped her wine.

“I can’t say I’m going to miss him.” she said finally. “He did just sign his own death warrant, didn’t he?”

“He signed it many years ago, when he sided with Thomas Wayne.” Oswald corrected her calmly. “For a casino owner, Mori is ridiculously bad at foresight. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

He didn’t say anything to Vicki, who also remained silent; they only looked at each other, as if simply being seen talking would be enough for Gotham to figure them out. It was nonsense; but Charlie decided to let Oswald have his oddities and little paranoias.

“Where are you taking me? Or rather us.” she corrected herself, raising her plush dog. “Not that I mind.”

“Oh, I thought we could use some alone time.” he said carelessly. “You know. Celebrate. And take advantage of how good you look, agapiméni mou.”

“Did you learn some Greek just to flirt with me while staying in character?” she asked, laughing quietly; he smiled with satisfaction.

“Yes, but unfortunately, ancient Greek was out of my reach… So don’t expect elaborate hymns.”

“So how did it go with Mori?”

“As for next week, I own this place. Meaning… Mori’s obsolete. I’ll take care of him eventually. Let him believe he’s under my protection.”

They found an empty side room, and before she knew it - his hands were under the fabric of her clothes and he was kissing her and his lips tasted like honeyed wine and she smiled, wondering if this is how Persephone felt after bidding farewell to Kore.

His hands were ice cold, and when he cupped her breasts she knew he’s doing it on purpose; cold was very effective against her and she writhed and mewled as he teased her, one of his hands pushing aside the rope and her underwear, his lips on her neck. The room was dangerously close to the main event, and the walls seemed paper thin; she had to cover her mouth with her hand as he was doing his magic with her body. The line between what she wanted from him and what he was going to give to her was but a gossamer thread; and he somehow always knew what to do to keep her from crossing.

“What are you going to do to Mori?” she whispered. “Tell me.”

“I’ll just make him disappear.” he whispered back, his fingers between her thighs. “And no one will ever know, and the only trace left will be blood on my hands… Maybe I’ll write my name with his blood on your skin. Maybe I’ll write a love poem. Roses are red, blood is red too, I’m bad at poetry, but I truly love you.”

Her laughter mixed with moans as she quickly covered her mouth again, her body shaking slightly. She was still laughing when they left the room, her body even more tense than before, her cheeks red and her eyes hazy; she could feel someone’s disapproving look on her, but she didn’t care enough to look around. Who was to stand between Hades and his queen? Even other gods weren’t brave enough to intervene.

They went home eventually, and she finally got what she wanted; she always did. He claimed he simply can’t say no to her, not when she looked at him like that and her voice sounded more like a breathy whimper; for some reason she never got tired of his theatrics and intricate plans, not when his touch made her feel like this. She loved him, plain and simple; and she told him that, over and over, as Gotham city was falling asleep and under his fingers her skin felt like fire and he sang her body electric.

*** Even though very few people knew the details of what was between them, everyone knew it’s as clear as day that Oswald Cobblepot and young woman living with him love each other; very few people knew just how bloody it was and how many dark parts his soul had and how much she loved every single one of them - but everyone saw the way they look at each other and get lost in each other’s eyes. Apparently it was heartwarming; Oswald was very determined to make Gotham ten times as much as it ever loved Bruce and his parents - and being seen as one part of a committed relationship, completely smitten with his partner certainly helped. Bruce Wayne had a reputation of a playboy, and a capricious and rather shallow one; Oswald Cobblepot was a charming gentleman - who only ever looked at one person in that special, soft way. He wasn’t above kissing a lady’s hand - but only in her case he’d look up and look her in the eye and smile.

And everyone ate that up. In fact - their very public, very fairytale-like relationship turned out to be so in sync with what the general public wanted it soon stopped being enough. People wanted more, expected more; and Oswald seemed to be very committed to the role he was playing.

(It wasn’t all entirely fake, naturally; he was charming and charismatic and intelligent. He simply didn’t want what’s best for the company - he wanted what’s best for himself.)

He dropped the bomb on her one evening, when they were alone; that day he seemed uncharacteristically anxious and she couldn’t figure out why. Everything seemed to be going fine - no one was even close to figuring out the Penguin, and Rumi Mori investigation hit a dead end.

(He did just what he planned, and Mori disappeared without a trace, leaving Oswald as the sole owner of the VIrago and Penguin as Gotham’s most reliable arms dealer.)

“Something’s eating you.” she said finally as they were in the kitchen; he was attempting to make churros and she watched. She liked watching him in the kitchen; he was a much better cook than her and watching him doing something as mundane as cooking was very entertaining, considering what kind of person he was.

“I guess you could say that, yes.” he muttered in response and she sighed.

“Oswald.” she said softly. “I’m fine with you keeping secrets from me, considering the way we first met, but it’s clear you have a problem. And I need you to remember - you’re not alone anymore. Talk to me.”

“There’s no need for grand speeches, really.” he said, not turning around. “And I trust you. I know you have my back, and I know you really left the Agency.”

(He checked, as he admitted some time ago; he had a highly skilled friend who found a backdoor access to the Agency database. Charlie was on the list of retired agents, with an annotation of being highly unreliable, unfit for the Agency and a potential person of interest; her database and requisition office access were revoked, and so were her license, ID and government-issued seal of immunity, protecting agents from getting in trouble with local law enforcements when on undercover missions. That was an undeniable proof of her really leaving this behind.)

“So, how do you want me to put it?” he asked, finally turning around. “Flowery prose? A statement plain and simple?”

“Don’t overdo it. Just tell me what’s up. I can take it, at this point I think I’m used to you and your revelations.”

“Have you noticed how my public persona is doing much, much better than Bruce ever did? I’m likeable, charming, popular… Everyone loves me, and the board is no exception. The board loves me… Of course, except for Regina.” he corrected himself, rolling his eyes. “She doesn’t trust me, but it’s alright, it’s mutual. Anyway. There had been some very subtle suggestions that I should make a certain PR move Bruce never did.”

“...go on.” she said carefully, trying to figure out what is he going to say next. “Though the list of things he never did is… Short. What are you expected to do, resurrect Martin Luther King? End world hunger? Travel back in time and stop Hitler?”

“Nothing of that magnitude, though I wouldn’t be so fast about getting number two off the table. No, the board suggested I should probably present myself as… Being more like my father, and less like Bruce.”

“...but are you talking about appearance, or-”

“No, Charlie, I’m talking about being engaged. The board wants me to get engaged.” he finally blurted out. “As a PR move, nothing more. You know. To present me as truly bringing back the good name of the Cobblepots.”

“Oh.” she said after a long moment, filled with heavy, tense silence. “Oh.”

“Oh.” he agreed. “Not quite what I expected when I was planning this thing.”

“Not quite what I expected when I was taking that assignment.” she agreed. “Christ, I was supposed to bring you in, not help you take over Gotham and get engaged to you in the process. Somewhere in the afterlife… My father is very, very disappointed.”

“Wait. Does it mean… You’re on board?”

“Well, yeah.” she said with a shrug. “Believe it or not, but I’ve been engaged once. It didn’t end well, as you probably figured out from the fact I was single like a Pringle when we’ve met, but it already happened once. I can get engaged to you. Just as long as you don’t come home next month and announce it’s time for a wedding. I’m not… Big on actual marriage.”

Her nonchalance and this sudden verbal outburst were merely a facade, behind which her actual surprise was hidden; she wasn’t expecting that, not in a million years. Not even once she considered transforming their relationship along these lines - she was fine with its status quo. Engagement and marriage were merely legal formalities, unnecessary deadwood; she made her choice and she was making it every day, after waking up and before falling asleep. But she made her promise, of helping him any way she could; she couldn’t bail out now. Not only it’d ruin his plans - it’d probably also break his heart, which was much more fragile than he wanted the world to believe. His life wasn’t gentle with him; and she saw no reason to further add to his list of poorly repressed issues. Also, she loved him - she could bear some formalities, as long as it was for him. She could think of much worse people to get engaged to.

“Really?”

“Yes, Oswald, really. It’s a strong, definite yes from me. Plus it’s not even the weirdest thing you’d have me do for the sake of your plan. Remember, we’re staging a falling out between the Penguin and the Pinniped. I think I can bear walking around with a ring on my finger, as compared to going around and talking shit about you.”

“See, this is something I’m not getting. Why are you like that, Charlie? I know why I am like that - but you have no reason to be so on board with everything I do. So… Why?”

“Maybe I’m just as awful as you are.” she said with a shrug. “Maybe I don’t feel like coming up with elaborate plans on my own, so I’m fine with just following someone more decisive around. Maybe I just love you. Maybe it’s all of the above.”

“I’m fine with those options.” he said, sounding relieved. “So. Let’s get to planning.”

“Wait. Planning?”

“I’m Gotham’s precious crown jewel. We should do it the old fashioned way.”

“Just admit you want attention.”

“Love, everything I do is for attention. I’m a showman at heart.”

They did it the old fashioned way, and in style. He struck a deal with Gotham’s constantly stressed out mayor; Wayne Enterprises covered all expenses of renovating the Cobblepot Park, and in exchange Oswald for one afternoon got exclusive access to it. Only he and people from the super secret guest list were to be let inside; Charlie insisted on not doing it too publicly, lest it would attract the Agency’s attention. She was sure she has nothing to worry about - Penguin hadn’t been up to anything from outside his usual list of activities, meaning he was a nuisance at best and a moderate, local threat at worst - but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

She wondered if her Agency pals followed the Gotham news; she wondered what does Amanda Waller think when she turns on the TV and sees Oswald Cobblepot prospering and succeeding.

Officially Charlie had no input in planning the entire thing - unofficially she made the majority of decisions. She decided she wants it to be a casual brunch, with mimosas and pink wine and sweets from the bakery near the Peak.

It was a weird feeling - getting engaged to a criminal. Not something she expected to happen at any point in her life, but then again - neither she did with the deaths of her parents, joining the Agency, becoming a criminal herself. She kept telling herself it’s just a facade, an act, just a mere formality; she was ready to go to great lengths to help Oswald.

But still - it felt and sounded weird. Really, really weird.

And then the day had come and she played her part perfectly, the role of someone unsuspecting and oblivious. She acted like she believed it’s just a private reopening of the Cobblepot Park; infused with Oswald’s money, the park looked breathtaking and her amazement wasn’t fake.

And then the weirdest moment came; that thing she never planned, that thing she never thought would ever happen. He made a short speech - a love letter of sorts, a long and fake list of metaphors for everything they’ve done together. He told all those allegories and metaphors and half lies, talking about how she inspired him to be a better person and completely omitting her acceptance for everything dark and bloody about him.

He kneeled in front of her, because of course he did, after all they were doing it the old fashioned way. He pulled out the box, containing Esther’s engagement ring, slightly modified to fit her finger better.

He asked the question, looking her in the eye with that dark, mischiaevous spark she knew and loved so much, that glimmer that drew her in all those months ago.

“Will you marry me?”

That was definitely the weirdest moment of Charlie’s life - a wanted criminal she was an accomplice of, asking her to marry him in a PR stunt. And the weirdest part was - it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel entirely fake. She loved him for real and he loved her back - so she didn’t feel like a liar when she answered.

“Yes.”

Engagement was just a formality, just a PR stunt; she realized it suddenly and with full force as he was putting the ring on her finger. They didn’t need it. What they had was real, with or without the presence of a marriage officiant.

Her life took a weird turn; but she didn’t mind, she didn’t mind at all.

*** The sword of Damocles never fell; and somehow they kept on living. Gotham loved Oswald and Charlie and feared the Penguin and the Pinniped; the latter seemed to be on a warpath, after a dramatic fallout. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and hell hath no resentment like a man fooled - and those caught in the crossfire of their lover’s quarrel were very eager for a way out. And thus Oswald built his small empire, hidden in plain sight, right under everyone’s noses; and he was a skilled architect, and a very patient one. He also turned out to be a very good actor, despite Louise’s constant claims; only once he got even remotely close to getting in trouble - when someone accused him of secretly supporting the Penguin, who for some reason targeted those who wronged the Cobblepot family. Oswald came out clean - and in return sued the poor sod for libel. That’s just the kind of person he was.

Somehow Charlie knew this is the best possible world for them; the realization came to her one night, in her dreams. She opened her eyes and she was in his arms and his breath was on her skin and she remembered a voice, telling her - that this is as good as it gets for them.

They were on top of the world in that one. Life was good, even if they didn’t deserve it, even if their happiness was paid for with blood, even if they shouldn’t be what they became in the first place. Life was good.

Gotham never learned what hit it.

#eng #ff #oc #pinnguin #telltale batman

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