Getting together with Oswald was one of the best decisions Jim ever made, once the yelling, the accusations and arguments, apologies, and other emotionally exhausting conversations were over with.
And that was just Harvey.
At least the rant blew over quickly. About ten minutes of shouting and what the fuck were you thinking, and I can't believe you didn't tell me!
Then the outrage passed and Harvey accepted the situation, though he was still miffed that Jim hid such a juicy secret from him for so long.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me," he said for the third time. "I thought I was your best friend."
"That's your biggest concern here?" Jim said, smiling now that the storm had blown over.
"Among other things." Harvey jabbed a finger at him. "If you guys get engaged, I better be the first one you tell."
Jim's mouth fell open as his brain fused.
Harvey smiled evilly at his reaction. "I can see it now. Splashed across the society page," he cackled.
"Yeah, 'cause my last engagements went so well," Jim stammered. "Can we have one crisis at time, please? Besides, we are going public. No engagement, but..." He shrugged.
Harvey stopped laughing. "Oh, fuck."
Not that marriage wasn't an option, Jim reflected later, but too many changes, too fast, could be disastrous, and he was determined to make it work with Oswald.
Besides, Jim had been so sure that Barbara was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Later, he felt that Lee was the one, or at least the one he should have wanted. Barbara threatening her with a knife on two separate occasions hadn't helped matters any, but the truth was that he and Lee just didn't click.
Both relationships blew up in his face. Both had left him under convoluted circumstances that weren't entirely Jim's fault, and he used to beat himself up about it nonetheless. Surely there'd been more he could do, there must've been some way to alter events...
He made a conscious effort to quit berating himself. It wasn't fair to Oswald for Jim to keep stewing over past relationships.
He'd hurt Oswald enough. They'd never even talked about the possibility of getting married, and Jim balked at screwing up, yet again, of pushing it too fast and driving Oswald away.
Still, Harvey's words settled into the back of his mind for him to mull over in quiet moments.
At least Harvey was still Jim's friend when all was said and done.
Oswald had to deal with Edward Nygma.
Though Oswald never told Ed that he'd developed a romantic attachmment to him, severing the friendship was traumatic enough that Jim knew better than to make light of it. Or to be so crass as to crow about it, either, in front of Oswald, though he freely expressed the extent of his feelings to Harvey.
Once Oswald learned of Edward's scheming to frame Jim for murder the year before and getting him consigned to Blackgate, and later shooting him, Oswald could no longer condone Ed's presence.
Ed making himself look like a hero by manipulating Butch into trying to murder Oswald hadn't helped Ed's cause, either.
Oswald took that betrayal especially hard. While no stranger to conducting such manipulative schemes himself, he usually didn't conduct them against his nearest and dearest, and his list of nearest and dearest was an extremely short one.
Even though Oswald awarded him a hefty severance package, a glowing letter of reference, and even (far too generously in Jim's opinion) living accomodations in a condominium for one year, Ed quit on the spot and stormed out.
Though apparently he wasn't too proud to turn down the condo.
Oswald recounted the story for Jim later.
"It's a good thing you weren't here," Oswald said, and drew a shaky breath, pouring a shot of whiskey with a trembling hand. "He accused you of conspiring against him."
He let out a humorless bark of laughter, and spread his arms, turning aside to address a space somewhere off in the middle of the room. "Yes, Edward, it's all about you, Jim wormed his way into my affections just to orchestrate a massive conspiracy to ruin your life." Oswald flopped onto the sofa and chugged the shot of whiskey as if he had a grudge against it.
Jim snorted and would have made a sarcastic comment, but Oswald's eyes were red, and he'd reapplied the mascara from this morning, too.
He sat gingerly on the other end of the sofa. Oswald had been crying over another man. He supposed he ought to be angry about that, except that he understood what Oswald was going through. Or at least he thought he did.
Oswald had so few friends. Ed's betrayal was a serious blow. Jim suspected Oswald was having a hard time letting go of the friendship that had been a steady support during the mayoral campaign.
And Oswald had just kicked Ed out, after all. Mostly out.
Jim was less than thrilled that Oswald set up a former love interest in another house, but it didn't seem like the right time to gripe about it, not when Oswald was so shaken and miserable. "What'd you say?"
"I told him he was being ridiculous, of course. I'm not fretting about your intentions, Jim. Clearly he was lashing out, trying to plant doubts in my mind." He tilted his head and raised a sardonic eyebrow. "How can I put this? I'm fairly certain that you're too honest to pull off such a convoluted, diabolical plot."
Jim felt a tension in his shoulders release. "Because I'm such a lousy liar?"
"Something like that." Oswald's smile faded. "He's vindictive and vengeful, Jim, though I don't have to remind you of that. The way he used the Red Hoods to his advantage..." He shook his head. "Clever, I'll grant him that. Promise you'll take precautions."
Jim nodded. "I'll be careful." He studied Oswald, who was staring at nothing and slumped in the corner of the sofa as if all the air had been sucked out of him. "Anything I can do?"
Oswald eyed him sideways. "What a very policeman-like thing to say." His mouth quirked into a smile to take the sting out of his words.
Jim felt encouraged to move closer, though he struggled to find the right words, words that wouldn't reveal his rather uncouth victorious feelings over the ousting of Ed. "Feel like talking about it?"
"I'm fine, Jim."
"But you were crying."
Oswald huffed out an exclamation and raised a hand to his eye. "Shit, I used Visine, too." He leaned forward on his elbows, fixing Jim with an intense, worried look. "I don't love him, Jim, I swear. You don't have to worry." He waved a hand at his face. "This. It's nothing. I got a little overemotional. That's all."
Jim wiped a hand over his mouth, wishing he hadn't pushed him to talk. He thought he was being comforting, but all he'd done was make Oswald more anxious. When would he learn to shut his mouth?
He scooted closer to put his hand on Oswald's back. "It's okay, babe," he murmured. "I understand."
Oswald's face crumpled and he threw his arms around him to hug him tight, which was all the encouragement Jim needed to fully embrace him back. "We don't have to talk about it anymore," Jim said.
"Thank God," Oswald said into Jim's neck, and sniffed. Jim held him, stroking his back until he calmed down.
Oswald relaxed into his embrace for a few more moments before he sat back and dabbed carefully at his eyes. "I'm through crying. And now you have to wine and dine me and take me to bed."
Jim smiled and bent his head to look into Oz's face. "Oh yeah? You up to it?"
"I just said I was." He raised his head to give Jim an imperious smile. "So where are you taking me?"
Part of the reason they were going public was to have some control over the coverage. If Nygma decided to out them from spite, he could make it look sordid. Or he could threaten to blackmail Oswald with it.
Oswald believed a pre-emptive strike would take that power out of Ed's hands.
Jim opened his eyes. Morning sunlight peeked around the heavy curtains of Oswald's bedroom and a glance at the clock confirmed that it was nearly 8 AM. The other side of the bed was empty. Oswald was probably already impeccably dressed and ready for another round of questioning from the media.
What continued to astound Jim was that Oswald was actually looking forward to it.
Mayor Cobblepot hooking up with the golden boy of the GCPD was the story of the decade, and Jim gained new respect for Oswald's ability to face the crowd of reporters every day with a smile and ready-made phrases on his lips, such as 'two consenting adults' and 'the privacy of one's home,' over and over again.
The third day of this crap, and Jim was sick of it. He and Oswald had been secretly together for weeks, and if he'd known it was going to be this bad he would've opted to keep it that way.
Jim dragged on pajama bottoms and a robe, went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, then shuffled downstairs.
"There's the sleepyhead," Oswald said fondly, putting aside the morning newspaper.
Jim walked over to lean down and press a kiss to his lips. He nuzzled Oz's cheek for a moment, inhaling the new cologne that gave him a faint smell of cedar.
Oswald touched Jim's chin. "I almost thought I'd have to send Olga to prod you awake."
Olga, bringing in coffee and toast, gave Oswald a startled look, glared at Jim, and muttered something under her breath in Russian. During his and Oswald's secret trysts, they always met at Jim's place. He was a newcomer to the mansion and she was keeping an eye on him, as if she didn't quite trust him not to steal the silverware.
Olga set the cup and plate at the setting next to Oswald, but Jim didn't sit down. "Maybe it'd be better if I took some time off," he said.
Oswald wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Oh, you can't mean that. It's all set. Manny and Grizz will be here promptly at 8:30."
Those were the bodyguards Oswald hired to clear a path for Jim through the reporters camping out on the steps of the GCPD. Having an escort was humiliating but necessary, and out of respect for Jim's sensibilities, Oswald had gone to a lot of trouble to find muscle that didn't have any outstanding arrest warrants.
Jim had to admit they did a fantastic job. The two hulking men were roughly the size of four defensive linemen put together, and they moved through crowds with the unstoppability of bulldozers. Even the most determined of journalists got out of their way. Jim sometimes worried they'd trample somebody and not even notice.
Because of the excess of publicity, it was impossible for Jim to visit crime scenes or conduct interviews with witnesses and suspects unless they were brought to the station for him. Harvey confined him to desk work until the media frenzy blew over.
"I know you're not happy being chained to your desk," Oswald continued, "but surely that's better than pacing around here all day."
He glanced at Olga, who was disappearing into the next room. "Window cleaners are coming this afternoon. She hates it when she thinks outsiders are taking work away from her," he said in a low voice. "It's better if you're not underfoot. I think she's planning on taking the rugs out and beating them."
"So that's later, right?" He leaned against Oswald's chair and slid a hand up the back of Oswald's head, running his fingers through his hair. "You could call in sick, too," he murmured. "We could spend the morning in bed, escape the house later."
The idea had sudden appeal. Normally he wouldn't dream of playing hooky, but he dreaded the prospect of yet another day under public scrutiny, and here was Oswald, showered and shaved and in a freshly pressed suit, and Jim liked nothing better than sliding his hands under that colorful waistcoat and peeling the entire ensemble off him.
Oswald rose a little higher in his seat, leaning into the touch of his hand, and for a few heated moments Jim thought he'd won, but then Oswald swallowed hard and grasped his wrist, gently but firmly pulling Jim's hand down.
"That's ...very tempting," he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of Jim's hand. "But not possible. Not today. I have a press conference at 9:30." His look became mildly reproachful. "We're going to have to conduct one together sooner or later, you know. I don't know why you're so set against it, you've done them before."
Jim gave his hand a squeeze before sitting at his place. "Yeah, for work. Not my private life." With a sigh he took a fortifying sip of coffee.
Oswald patted his knee. "This'll blow over in a week or two."
"A week! Or two!"
"Not any longer than that, darling. You'll see. They'll get bored and move on to the next scandal."
"We're not a scandal."
"We most certainly are," Oswald said cheerfully. "Come meet with my people. They'll help you prepare some statements. Those mean old journalists will leave you alone quicker if you give them something to chew on."
Manny and Grizz performed magnificently, escorting Jim into the building promptly by nine o'clock and getting him back to his car once the work day was done.
Jim caved to pressure, and endured a press conference where he was more than happy to let Oswald did most of the talking. Whenever an insensitive question was directed at Jim, wariness would surface in Oswald's otherwise smiling face and this encouraged Jim to keep his temper. If Oswald could keep his own infamous volatility under control, then so could he.
As the days passed and the mayor and his boyfriend failed to explode or do anything more exciting than go out to dinner, the furor died down as Oswald predicted.
Reporters no longer showed up at the police station en masse, and Manny and Grizz went back to whatever it was they'd been doing before Oswald recruited them. Jim decided it was best not to ask.
Jim was relieved. Oswald was mildly depressed at the decrease in attention, though after a day or two of sulking he seemed to get over it.
He resumed his usual detective work, as an actual detective, and threw himself back into it with gusto. At last his life seemed to be stabilizing.
Nonetheless Jim knew there would be other, more subtle challenges. Or perhaps not so subtle.
There was a new sort of tension at work. Nothing sinister, but full acceptance of his new status in the order of things hadn't quite taken affect. Jim could feel it in the way conversations would stop when he walked by, and sometimes he could feel eyes on him, speculative and amused, though he never caught anyone in the act.
A hazing might be in the works. There had been a reprieve during the media circus, as cops would always present a united front against outsiders, but now that that was all over, they could get down to the serious business of cutting Jim down to size.
Not even his friendship with Captain Bullock would save him. Hell, Harvey might even be in on it, though captains didn't usually stoop to that kind of thing. ("Once you get a certain rank," Harvey complained in a bar shortly after his unwilling promotion, "all the fun gets sucked out of you." He'd paused for dramatic effect. "Except for me," he said with a grin, reaching for a glass with three paper umbrellas and two kinds of fruit in it.)
Jim got the sense that most of his co-workers were more amused than hostile about his newly revealed relationship with one of the most infamous villains in the city so it probably wouldn't be too bad. Maybe just some teasing.
Or maybe he'd walk in one morning to find his desk covered with penguin stickers.
One night he arrived home late to find Oswald staring out one of the dining room windows.
In the second before Oswald turned at the sound of his step, he got a glimpse of his profile.
Worry pinched Oswald's face, the corners of his expressive mouth tight, his shoulders rigid as if armored against pain, one hand clenched into a fist where it was leaning on the window frame.
Jim's heart sank. He'd called to tell him he would be late, but it had gotten to be much later than he'd anticipated.
Then in the next instant Oswald turned with a bright smile, and he walked to Jim, reaching for him, and Jim enfolded him in his arms, kissing him soundly, then hugged him close. It looked like Oswald needed it.
Jim thought Oswald clutched at his suit jacket with a little more urgency than necessary.
"Sorry it got so late," he said.
Oswald stepped back quickly, and ducked his head, still smiling with determination and a little embarrasment. He waved his hand. "Oh, I'm just a little tired, I suppose. Did something happen?"
"Yeah. A perp had a seizure in one of the holding cells and they had to call an ambulance. Moved other suspects to other cells, and one of them tried to escape. It was pretty chaotic."
Oswald nodded, frowning sympathetically. He leaned on the cane with both hands, and maybe that was the reason for his white-knuckled grip, but a subdued fragility was evident in the lines of his arms, the way he held himself. Jim might not even have noticed, except for the worry on Oswald's face before he dropped the mask over it.
Whatever was making Oswald anxious, it didn't seem to be because Jim was a little late.
His stomach tightened. Things had been going so well lately, and he had no wish to start up what might be an emotionally draining conversation. He didn't want to pick at every little thing, or to make a big deal out of what might truly be overtiredness on Oswald's part. Maybe a bad memory had surfaced that had nothing to do with Jim or their relationship at all.
He really ought to ask, let Oswald decide whether or not to talk about it. Jim didn't want Oswald to feel like he had to hide things from him, but before he could come up with a suitably framed question, Oswald straightened. "I have something for you."
He hurried out to the hallway, cane clicking on the wooden floor, and came back with a plastic bag. "An early birthday gift."
"Oh, Oz, it's weeks away," he said, smiling in spite of himself.
The present was a pair of shoes made of fine Italian leather, that, when he put them on, were the most comfortable things he'd ever had on his feet.
He glanced at the bag as he walked back and forth across the room to test them. Not even a gift bag. Not that he minded, but usually Oswald...
"Do they fit right?" Oswald asked, breaking into his thoughts. "They don't pinch anywhere?"
"More comfortable than my slippers." He gave Oswald a brief kiss on the mouth. "Thanks, babe. They're great."
"You look very handsome in them." Oswald set his cane on a chair and slipped an arm around Jim's waist.
"The shoes make me handsome?" Jim chuckled. He was quick to encircle Oswald with his arms.
"On the contrary, you make them look good." Oswald's eyes flickered up and down, his cool fingers trailing over Jim's chest.
Blatant flattery though it be, it worked on Jim like a charm. He pulled him close. "You cold, babe? I'll warm you up."
Oswald sank against him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as their mouths met. Jim's tongue flickered over Oswald's mouth. Oswald let out a little 'mm' of appreciation and closed his lips over it, letting Jim slide it in.
Jim's grip tightened, possessive, needy, and he dropped one hand to cup his buttock. Warmth pooled low in his belly .
Oswald nipped gently at Jim's lips, opened his mouth wider to invite him in deeper, and pushed his groin against him. Jim could feel him hardening already.
"Hey, you beat me to it," Jim murmured against his lips.
He felt Oswald smile. "Better keep up."
"Bed?"
"Past time," Oswald said, breathlessly, bangs falling over one eye and his face flushed pink, lips swollen with kissing.
Jim was nearly undone by the sight. They made their way upstairs side by side, arms around each other's hips, Jim revelling in Oswald's slender body leaning on him.
Maybe there wasn't anything wrong after all.
Later as Oswald lay with his head pillowed on Jim's bare chest, listening to his steady breathing as he slept, he felt unaccustomed shame. He'd never done that before, never sidetracked Jim so thoroughly just to avoid a conversation.
He'd seen concerns rising in Jim's eyes, and Oswald had simply panicked. The way out of a possibly difficult conversation presented itself so easily, the distractions ready to hand, as it were.
Besides, he'd felt a sudden, desperate need for Jim's touch, the assurance that Jim still desired him.
Prodding their relationship into the limelight had taxed Jim greatly, he knew, but fortunately the man's innate stubbornness had seen him through the media scrutiny and kept him by Oswald's side.
Damn Barbara! Oswald thought with sudden heat. That attention-grabbing witch came out from whatever rock she'd been hiding under long enough to talk to a minor reporter from an obscure local channel, and it hadn't even gotten picked up by anyone else, so far as he knew, but her mocking voice came back to haunt him.
Oh, of course I wish them well. I couldn't be happier for them. I just hope it lasts, she'd said with a regretful sigh, the scheming vixen. Which I'm sure it will. Mayor Cobblepot is very well-off,, I'm sure it makes up for the... y'know. Other things.
She'd wrinkled her perfect little nose suggestively, to indicate there were a lot of 'other things' which she was too polite to mention, and, although it was offscreen, there was no mistaking the hitch of her shoulder as she made a scuffling movement with her foot.
To think he'd once considered her a friend.
He shouldn't have let Barbara's words get to him, but they had, which led him to do a little digging into Jim's past. He wished he hadn't done that either. Once he got a look at the kinds of people to whom Jim was usually attracted, it made him wonder how long Jim would continue to be satisfied with him.
Must he always be plagued by anxiety? Jim must be weary of dealing with Oswald's insecurities by now.
A sharp twinge in his bad knee reminded him it was time to switch position Carefully, so as not to wake Jim, he shifted onto his other side. Jim murmured in his sleep and rolled over with him, folding himself against Oswald's back and wrapping a strong arm around his chest. Jim wriggled his hips a little to fit more firmly against Oswald's bottom, settling back into full sleep again with a gentle exhalation.
Oswald felt a pleasant shiver run through him and he tucked his own arm around Jim's. This was so, so good, Jim holding him like this, as if he was something to be cherished and protected.
It was important to keep Jim happy, now more than ever. Fortunately Oswald had the means for doing so.
