A short note: This story is complete and has been shared elsewhere online, but I've decided to post it here too. There are three chapters, and I'll post one per week unless life gets in the way, and then upload the sequels too.

Beta'd by the lovely butterfliesandresistance/thekeyholder. Any remaining errors are mine.


Working in a flower shop hadn't really been where Jim Gordon expected to be after leaving the military, but there he was. He had tried the police force, and had almost made it all the way up to detective before he pissed off the Commissioner and his colleagues too much and lost his job. He'd drifted for a while, before a couple of the homeless kids he'd run into during his police work had crossed his path needing help. Not that they were really kids anymore, now that they were in their twenties. Unable to say no to them, he'd agreed and now helped Ivy Pepper and Selina Kyle run Poison Ivy, a flower shop with a growing reputation, and a reputation for being able to grow any flower or plant you wanted.

It wasn't too bad, really, when the shop was quiet. He took care of a lot of the business side of things, because Ivy was more concerned about her plants and growing them than selling them. Selina would help out in the shop as well, arranging bouquets and handling deliveries. She had a better sense of style and colour when it came to putting together bouquets, but Jim was picking it up as they went along. Ivy was the undisputed best, though, and Jim would spend time after closing the shop at her greenhouses a few nights a week, practising with her.

It looked like it was going to be another quiet afternoon, with Jim minding the shop on his own, when the door opened to admit an agitated man in a formal suit. His hair was spiked up in an almost bird-like fashion and he walked with a pronounced limp.

Jim straightened up from where he had been slouching against the counter and straightened the green apron he wore. "Mayor Cobblepot?" Of course he recognised the man. Who didn't, in this city? "How may I help you?" he added a little belatedly.

The Mayor looked up at him and pasted on a congenial smile. "I thought I'd send a bunch of flowers to my dear Chief of Staff and his new girlfriend," he said. "A way to congratulate them finding each other and falling in love so quickly." He came forward, leaning heavily on his umbrella as he looked up. The congenial expression was gone, and a glint of mischief — or possibly malice - had replaced it. "What's the best way to say 'I hate you' in flowers?" he asked.

Jim blinked uncertainly, then smiled despite himself. Usually, people wanted sappy romantic messages, so this was a refreshing change.

"Right, well, I can't promise these meanings will be exact - I'm still picking up a lot of this stuff from Ivy - but I believe we can manage that." Jim came around the counter to start picking flowers out of the containers. Another reason Ivy didn't come into the shop much - she preferred her flowers still living, not slowly dying. "So, what did they do to deserve this?" Jim asked. He glanced over at Mayor Cobblepot. "You don't need to tell me, I'm just curious."

"He abandoned me for a woman he met at the liquor store," the mayor replied after a moment. "I waited all night, we were going to have dinner, and I was going to tell him how I feel and then... Well." The anger dropped away, replaced by dejection. "She's perfect for him. Pretty, intelligent, informed, likes riddles... According to Ed, she doesn't seem to have a single flaw."

Jim frowned in sympathy. He was well aware of what it was like to love someone who chose to be with someone else. "That's rough," he said, at a loss for what else to say. Whatever he had expected, it wasn't for the mayor to be jealous of a love rival. Finishing up his selections of flowers, he carried them back to the counter and began arranging them in a bouquet.

"Now, let's see... We have orange lilies for hate, some yellow carnations for disappointment and rejection, scarlet geraniums for stupidity and distrust and a little basil to say that you hate her." Jim said, as he picked up each flower. "Will that do?"

Mayor Cobblepot nodded, a smile creeping back onto his face. "I... Yes, yes, that will do," he said.

"Okay then, I'll wrap these up for you,"Jim said. "Do you want to write out a card for the happy couple?"

The Mayor grimaced. "I... No, I don't think so. Or perhaps I should? A congratulations on finding each other, perhaps? I don't know if they'll understand the flowers... No, maybe I shouldn't." He shook his head. "I'll hand them over, and wish them well."

"And pretend you don't know what the flowers mean if they click on," Jim added with a wry smile. He finished wrapping up the flowers and handed the bouquet over, quoting the price.

"Precisely," Mayor Cobblepot said. "What's your name, by the way?" he asked, as he handed over his money.

"Jim Gordon, Mr. Mayor," Jim replied. "Please, do come again. I'll be happy to help you."

"Please, call me Oswald, Jim," the mayor replied. "And I'll certainly remember this place in the future."

He limped out, clutching the flowers. Jim watched him go, a little bemused. He didn't expect to see the Mayor in the little shop again, whatever he said.

A couple of days later, a more downcast, irritated Oswald Cobblepot entered the shop. Jim was at the counter once again, flicking through a gardening magazine.

"Mayor Cobblepot, a pleasure to see you again," Jim greeted.

"Didn't I say to call me Oswald, old friend?" he replied, a smile replacing his irritation when he saw Jim.

"Oswald, then. How can I help you today?" Jim said.

Oswald dug in his pocket and pulled out a small sheet of paper. "Apparently the perfect Isabella is fluent in the language of flowers and was quite upset by my last bouquet. I, of course, hurried to explain that I simply chose blooms that looked as pretty as she, and had no true idea what the meaning behind them was, but Ed has insisted I purchase new flowers to apologise, and to ensure there are no more mistakes, has provided me with a list of acceptable flowers." He showed the list to Jim. "I trust you can help."

Jim took the list. "Of course, I'll do my best." He examined the list and began choosing the flowers he'd include.

"I just don't understand," Oswald lamented as he worked. "They've known each other for a week. A week! How can he love her so much after such a short time?"

"It's easy to mix love and infatuation," Jim replied. "Especially when you've just met the other person and they seem to be perfect in every way. I've made that mistake when I was younger, but I've learned since. I don't say it unless I truly mean it now."

"They're all over each other, all the time. When we're working, he's texting her. He brings her back to the mansion after their dates. He cooks her dinner in my kitchen," Oswald complained, leaning against the counter.

"They're in the honeymoon phase, that's all," Jim said. "They'll get over it and settle down into boring domesticity soon."

"As long as it's not in my mansion," Oswald grumbled.

Jim couldn't help the soft laugh as he finished picking out flowers. "You know, you could try to be happy that he's happy," he said.

Oswald sighed. "I'm trying. It's good that he's happy. I just wish..."

"That he was happy with you?" Jim finished. "I know how you feel, Oswald."

Oswald jerked his head up to look at him in shock. "You? But you're- Why would anyone turn you down?" He turned pink, looking away out of the window.

Jim turned away, back to the flowers, to give him as much privacy as he could in his embarrassment.

"Does it get easier?" Oswald asked. "I've never... I don't have much experience in matters of the heart. I'm not the kind of person people fall in love with. I didn't even think I was the kind of person who fell in love, for that matter."

Jim turned around fully. "It fades a bit, the pain. But then, she wasn't everywhere I was. I wasn't working with her, not by the end," Jim admitted quietly. "But it still hurt to see her marry someone else."

"Oh."

"But she's happy, and I would only have made her miserable. Did make her miserable, actually, at the end of our relationship."

"Do you think I'd make Ed miserable if we were together?" Oswald asked. "He's my best friend. My only friend. I've never known anyone else like him. We get along better than I've ever gotten along with anyone."

"I couldn't say," Jim said awkwardly. "But I've never met him. Maybe you would be, or maybe the extra level of intimacy would spoil things. What if the relationship falls apart later down the line, and you lose that friendship when you lose his love?"

Oswald looked stricken. "You think… you think it would end badly?" he asked.

Jim shrugged, wishing he could take his words back. He had been trying to make the guy feel better, not worse. "Who knows? Like I said, I've never met this guy you're so hung up on. I don't know anything about him, or your friendship with him. I barely even know you, just what you tell me when you come in here, and things I read in the news."

Oswald blinked a bit, processing. "Yes, yes. Things might turn out alright. If only I could get rid of Isabella…"

"Oswald," Jim said quietly, warningly. "We're trying to be happy for them, not breaking them up."

The way Oswald looked aside made Jim wonder if he had been thinking about breaking them up, or something else altogether. He wasn't completely ignorant to the rumours that Oswald had once been a criminal kingpin, ruling Gotham's underworld before being confined to Arkham. After he'd been released, he'd disappeared for a time and then resurfaced to lead a campaign to become mayor. Jim had actually voted for him, but mostly because he was tired of the former Mayor James. Oswald at least seemed to genuinely love Gotham, whereas Aubrey James had seemed much more self-serving, afraid to rock the boat too much in case it damaged his position.

"Anyway, your flowers," Jim said. "I haven't picked everything from the list, and I've thrown in a couple that weren't, but they'll suit the meanings regardless. Apology bouquets are something I get to arrange regularly." He named them as he wrapped them up. "Purple hyacinth to simply say you're sorry, Lily of the Valley to say you want to reconcile - don't give me that look, you know you have to make nice with her." Oswald hastily smiled his bland mayoral smile. "And anemones for sincerity. Because you do mean this apology." Jim hesitated a moment. "They also mean death, though with the rest of these flowers, she should simply assume that they mean you're sincere in your apology."

Oswald smiled broadly at the double meaning. "Jim, that's wonderful. You're brilliant," he said, much more cheerful now than when he had first come into the store.

Jim flushed at the praise. "I'm just doing my job," he said.

"I mean it," Oswald said, giggling. "Sincerely."

Jim smirked. "One more thing before you go," he said. He turned and plucked a small white flower out of one of the pots. "This is on the house," he said. "Camellia, for good luck," he said, tucking it into Oswald's buttonhole.

He glanced at Oswald's face, suddenly realising how close they were. He could make out every freckle dusting his nose and cheeks, the flecks of blue in his eyes.

"Thank you," Oswald said.

Jim realised he had been standing there a little too long and stepped back awkwardly. "Anything for my favourite customer," he said, not meeting Oswald's eyes.

"Oh." A small, shy smile spread over Oswald's face, and Jim was struck with the realisation that Oswald could be honestly adorable.

Oswald paid for the apology bouquet and left, seeming to use his umbrella cane a bit less forcefully than usual. Jim watched him go.

If all went well, then Oswald wouldn't need any more flowers, for any kind of message. Jim wondered whether he should have given Oswald his number while he had the chance, and then dismissed the idea.

The opportunity had passed, and anyway, getting involved with someone who was in love with someone else could only end in heartbreak.


The next morning, Jim came along to open the shop early. He was still setting out plants for display when Oswald burst in, looking furious. Jim worried for a moment that he'd got the flowers wrong, that Oswald was upset with him, but then the mayor burst out with, "Are there any flowers that say 'mind your own business, you man-stealing hag'?"

"What?" Jim asked, not sure how serious Oswald was about that request.

"It was a disaster!" Oswald announced, waving his umbrella cane dramatically. "She knows everything!"

"What? Slow down, tell me everything," Jim said.

"Isabella!" Oswald hissed, pacing the length of the shop and back. His umbrella cane slammed into the ground forcefully with every step. "I gave her the flowers - and she knows about the anemones - and she said she knows I'm in love with Ed, and she understands, because he's so wonderful that of course I'm in love with him, and then she tells me she's not even jealous."

"And this is why you need flowers that say… what was it? Mind your own business?" Jim asked.

"With an emphasis on the 'man-stealing hag'," Oswald said. "Please tell me there are flowers like that."

Jim couldn't help it. He laughed.

"Stop laughing at me and help me," Oswald snapped.

Jim tried not to laugh, and to wipe the smile from his face. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But I really don't think there are flowers for that. Not that I know of, anyway."

"Damn," Oswald muttered. "Well, I suppose it would be too much to hope for. Though I actually do need some flowers," he added. "I plan to visit my parents' graves this morning. My mother always loved lilies, but I'm not sure what would be appropriate for my father."

"White roses are typically used to honour a father who had passed on," Jim replied. He turned to take the roses and lilies from the pots behind him. Roses and lilies of all colours typically sold well, so Ivy grew lots of them to sell in the shop, both as cut bunches and in pots.

"White roses," Oswald repeated. "Yes, I think he might have liked those." He took the offered flowers, and paid when Jim rang up the total.

"Oh my god," said a voice behind Jim, after the door had shut behind Oswald. "Was that actually the mayor?"

Jim jumped. He'd forgotten Selina was in the back room, putting together bouquets.

"Third time he's been in this week," he said.

"Wow." Selina was wide-eyed. "Does he… know I work here?" she asked.

Jim shrugged. "No? He's never asked, I've never said. He's just bought some flowers, then left. Like every other customer."

Selina turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Really? You know he used to be a criminal, right? And you're all against crime and stuff."

"I'm not turning away a paying customer, especially not the mayor," Jim said.

"And it had nothing to do with the fact that you were clearly checking him out as he left," Selina said.

Jim inwardly cursed her sharp eyes, even as he blushed. He couldn't deny it though. "Yes, he's attractive. It doesn't matter though," he said. "He's in love with someone else, and he probably won't come back anyway.

Except that he did. The next Saturday morning, Oswald called in with a polite smile and a request for lilies and white roses.

"How long does a honeymoon phase for a relationship usually last?" he asked as Jim wrapped up his flowers. "Because if I have to put up with this for much longer, I'm going to have to take drastic measures."

Jim shrugged. "It's different for everyone. Just wait until Ed finds a flaw in her, or she finds a flaw in him."

Oswald frowned. "But she already knows what happened to his last girlfriend and hasn't left him," he said.

Jim paused and looked up. "What happened to the last girlfriend?" he asked, not even sure he wanted to know the answer.

"He killed her. Accidentally, of course, and he's so terribly sorry about it," Oswald said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather. He had a wary look in his eye when he looked at Jim, though. "He was insane, and he went to Arkham, and now he's alright again. He has a certificate. So do I, for that matter."

"A certificate. Right." Jim had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that. "Well." He finished wrapping up the flowers. "Wait, if he killed his last lover, why do you want to be with him? Wouldn't you be afraid he would relapse?"

Oswald drew back, offended. "Ed would never hurt me! I trust him, and he trusts me. He believes in me like no one else has since my dear parents passed away."

"Okay, okay." Jim held up his hands. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just… curious, I guess. I don't know Ed, so I can only take your word for it after all."

Oswald relaxed a bit. "That's true," he said.

Jim held out the two bunches of flowers. "Here you go, Oswald. Take care of yourself."

Oswald accepted them, turning a little pink across his cheeks for some reason. "I will. Thank you, Jim." He slid some money across the counter and left before Jim could give him his change.

It became a weekly ritual after that. Oswald would call in every Saturday morning for lilies and roses for his parents and they would chat a bit. Jim would always tuck a flower into his buttonhole, sharing their meanings if he knew them. Jim always made sure to open the shop on Saturdays, and neither Ivy nor Selina argued against it. He got to learn more about Oswald, as topics moved on from the sickly sweet romance between Ed and Isabella to which of his mayoral duties Oswald enjoyed and those he didn't, his childhood and relationship with his mother, the brief time he'd known his father.

In return, Jim shared bits of his past, his distant relationship with his own family after his father died, the brief period he was in the GCPD, and anecdotes about Ivy and Selina. He started looking forward to it more often, waiting for Oswald to walk in each Saturday. When not fretting about his unrequited feelings for his Chief of Staff, Oswald was intelligent, occasionally funny and the hints of danger that slipped through every so often only served to intrigue Jim rather than turn him off. It was at complete odds with the strange sweetness and innocence that Oswald was also capable of.

He lasted three weeks before he gave in to the urge to slip Oswald his phone number at the same time as his change.

"For when you want to talk between these visits," he said.

Oswald took the little piece of paper almost reverently. "Thank you, my friend." He tucked it away in his pocket carefully.

After that, Oswald and Jim texted regularly during the day, little observations and updates about their days.

Bruce Wayne just came in for flowers for his parents. He said you recommended me?

I met him at a charity gala recently. He complimented the flower you gave me that day - the clematis? I told him I got it from Jim at Poison Ivy, best florist in the city, of course!

I don't know about that. I just got roped into selling flowers one day.

Nonsense! You're wonderful and helpful. Unlike these councillors I'm meeting with.

Oswald! Are you texting me in a meeting? You should be paying attention!

In the evenings, when Oswald had nothing left to do, he would sometimes call Jim as well, if only to rant about the idiots he was dealing with more efficiently, or the latest updates in Ed and Isabella's perpetual honeymoon phase. Jim would sit and wait for his call most nights while telling himself that he wasn't doing just that, and try not to feel disappointed if the phone didn't ring. Oswald was the Mayor, and his duties often kept him very busy, he told himself firmly, and Oswald was considerate enough not to call if the hour grew too late.

At least, usually he was. When the phone rang at nearly midnight one night, Jim's first thought was to hang up on whoever it was, but when he saw Oswald's name on the screen, all annoyance fled.

"Hey, Oswald," he greeted, trying not to sound as though he had just woken up on the sofa, having fallen asleep in front of the TV earlier.

"Jim, old friend, I'm so sorry to bother you this late," Oswald began. "But I don't know who else to turn to. Truthfully, I don't have anyone else. I've done something incredibly stupid, Jim. I don't think flowers are going to fix this at all."

"Whoa, slow down. What happened? Have you been drinking?" Jim asked, sitting up. He reached for the remote to turn the TV off, regardless of the fact that it left him in darkness. He didn't need some sitcom providing a laugh track in the background while Oswald was so obviously upset.

"Um, a bit," Oswald admitted. "Maybe. Maybe a lot. I've been really very foolish, Jim. Help me, old friend. My only friend, now."

To Jim's horror, there was a sniffle on the other end of the line, then a hiccup and a sob.

"Oswald, tell me everything," he said. He'd never been much good with crying people, and it was somehow worse when Oswald was on the other end of the phone call, instead of being beside him.

"I told Ed. I couldn't keep it in anymore. It just slipped out," Oswald said. "Told him I love him and he was... Shocked. Horrified, I think." His voice broke. "What do I do, Jim? I can't lose him. He went out hours ago, and I was waiting for him to come home, but what if he doesn't? What if he's gone for good?"

Jim's heart twisted painfully in his chest. "I'm sure he just needs time to process," he said. "Come to terms with how you feel about him. He can't avoid you forever, he's still your Chief of Staff."

Oswald made a small sound of agreement.

"He's probably gone to Isabella's, and she's probably advising him to calm down and not throw away your friendship, or something," Jim said. He was guessing, based off the things Oswald had told him about her. When he managed to break through the insults and the jealousy, it seemed like Isabella might actually be a nice person. Perhaps a little too trusting, too blinded by her love for Ed, if she knew that he'd killed his last girlfriend and she hadn't run for the hills, but given that she knew that Oswald was in love with Ed and hadn't made any attempt to separate them for longer than it took to go on a date (that first night notwithstanding, as it hadn't been planned), Jim thought she couldn't have been as bad as Oswald frequently made her out to be.

Oswald made a disgusted noise at the mention of Isabella. "Isabella! I don't want to hear about that - that-" he spluttered for a moment, apparently too drunk to come up with a suitable insult.

"Alright, alright. No more mentioning... Her," Jim agreed. "Let's talk about something else, okay?"

"Okay," Oswald agreed. "But... What should I do about Ed? What if he comes back? What do I say? What if he wants nothing more to do with me?"

"You don't know that's what he's going to want," Jim said. "And I don't know either. All I know about him is from what you've told me, remember?" He sighed. "Look, romantic advice isn't my forte. I'm the reason all my relationships failed. Too invested in my work, too secretive, acting like I had a death wish..." He trailed off, shrugging despite the fact that Oswald couldn't see it. "Then I got fired from the GCPD, but it was too late to save my relationship with Lee. When I saw her again, she'd already moved on, got engaged to someone else."

"But surely someone like you would have no trouble finding someone else?" Oswald replied. His voice sounded steadier now. Jim hoped that meant he had stopped crying.

"I was still in love with her," Jim said. "For a long time, I wanted her back. It kind of hinders attempts at romancing anyone else. Then I met Selina again, and she introduced me to Ivy and got me to agree to help her set up shop to help keep her off the streets, which then led to doing doing just about everything for her, so she can just grow plants in her greenhouses."

"So there's been no one since?" Oswald asked. "You've never wanted anyone else? Or are you still in love with Lee?"

"I've had to let her go," Jim said. "And since deciding that, there's been no one else. I'd like someone... I do like someone," he amended. "But... It's tricky. I don't know if they could like me back in the same way I like them, and they're a busy person with enough going on in their life. They don't need a fuck-up like me complicating things."

"Jim, don't talk about yourself like that," Oswald reprimanded. "I'm sure anyone would be lucky to have you."

Jim blushed, grateful that Oswald couldn't see it. "I don't know about that," he said. "I'm friends with them though, so at least I have that."

"Yes," Oswald said, sounding subdued.

Jim wanted to kick himself. He had probably just reminded Oswald of Ed, and the unknown state of their own friendship.

"Maybe you should tell her," Oswald said. "Then if she reacts like Ed, we can commiserate together." He tried for a lighter tone, but it sounded a bit strained.

"He, Oswald," Jim corrected, smiling faintly to himself. "The person I like is a man."

"Oh," Oswald said breathlessly.

Jim wondered for a moment if he'd given him too many clues and he'd figured it out. Then he continued speaking.

"Well, my statement still stands. Tell him. If the worst should happen, at least you know you'll have a sympathetic shoulder to cry on," Oswald said. "Oh, but look at the time! I probably woke you up, didn't I? I'm so sorry, my friend. I should let you get back to sleep."

"No, no, don't worry about it," Jim said hurriedly. "I fell asleep on the sofa anyway. You just saved me from waking up with a sore neck in the morning. Besides, I'd rather hear from you now than learn you were miserable on your own all night." He stood up, figuring if their conversation was ending, he should make his way to bed.

"Thank you, old friend. I truly don't know what I would do without you," Oswald replied. Jim could hear the smile in his voice.

"Anytime, Oswald."

"Good night, Jim. Sleep well. In your bed," added Oswald, teasing.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm almost there." Jim successfully navigated his apartment in the dark without tripping over anything or bumping into anything. "Good night, Oswald. I'm sure things will look better in the morning."

Jim hung up the phone and collapsed back on his bed. He squeezed his eyes shut. Shit, he was in deep.


Jim didn't hear from Oswald at all the next day. He opened up the shop, checking his phone between customers, but there were no texts or missed calls. Finally, after closing up for the day, Jim gave in and texted Oswald while on his way to see Ivy.

Are you ok? I'm free if you want to talk.


Ivy had taken over as much space as she'd been able to manage with three large greenhouses catering to different plants and conditions. Jim had no idea how she'd managed it, wasn't sure if she'd acquired permission legally or not, and almost certainly didn't want to know. Still, it was a much better use for what had previously been just another vacant lot. If that wasn't enough, he also had it on good authority that Ivy's home was also filled to bursting with plants.

Jim had initially wondered at the wisdom of putting the greenhouses up in a rough neighbourhood, but Selina had confided in him that Ivy had earned some sort of reputation during her homeless period. Now no one wanted to mess with the strange plant girl. Jim was sure that the less he knew, the better. The main thing was that Ivy had a legal means of making money these days, so she wasn't growing drugs for the mob and their dealers.

"Hey, Ivy. Good day today?" Jim greeted.

"It's been alright," Ivy replied. "Selina's been helping me repot some of the rose bushes, so we should get more flowers when they grow bigger. White roses are popular lately, yes?"

"Well, we do have a regular order to fill," Jim said. "Mayor Cobblepot asks for them every week, and he's been recommending us to others as well."

"Is that so?" Selina asked. Her fingers were covered in dirt, and her curly hair stuck to her forehead in the humid atmosphere of the greenhouse.

"Yeah, sort of. At least, Bruce Wayne came by again," Jim said.

Selina turned away with an air of nonchalance. "Really. Well. That's nice."

Jim wasn't fooled, but wisely chose to say nothing. "So, where do I get started?" he asked, turning his attention to the plants.

He spent the next couple of hours helping out, trimming dead flowers and leaves off plants, moving pots around and obeying Ivy's every word when it came to plants. She had a natural talent that bordered on supernatural for looking after plants. Jim, who had never had much interest in plants, could never hope to match her knowledge.

Selina noticed him checking his phone often. "Waiting for a message from your boyfriend?" she asked.

Jim turned red. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Don't see why not," she replied. "You like him, right?"

"It's more complicated than that," Jim said. "He loves someone else."

"Oh. Well. But I thought he wasn't with anyone?" she said, frowning.

"Well, no. The person he loves is with someone else," Jim explained, hoping to be able to keep things vague. He didn't want to be airing all of Oswald's private life to the girls.

"So get in there while he's single, duh," Selina said.

Jim frowned. "Selina, he doesn't want to be with me."

"I could make him want you," Ivy said nonchalantly. "Just a sniff of one of my perfumes and he'll do anything you want."

"Ivy, you can't solve all your problems by putting the whammy on people with your perfume," Selina said.

"It's always worked so far," Ivy shrugged.

Jim turned away. "I'm not hearing this," he said. "Ivy, you can't just manipulate people like that, and I definitely won't let you do it to Oswald."

"Hey, I'm just offering," Ivy replied. "When am I ever going to see him anyway? The shop is your domain."

Jim still wasn't entirely happy.

"Hey, it's not something that happens often. Just when guys give her trouble," Selina said quietly to Jim. "And enough of them know by now that she can do that, and that a lot of these plants are actually kinda poisonous, so really, she's fine. We're fine, and she's not going to drug the guy you have a crush on."

"I don't want to think about what would happen if she did," Jim said. "That would be a disaster. He'd never trust me again."

The plants to be sold the next day were moved to the front, where they could be quickly loaded into a van to be taken to the shop in the morning before they opened. When that was done, Jim left Ivy and Selina to do one last check over the greenhouses and headed home.

He didn't get a response from Oswald until later, while he was mulling over which of the takeout cartons in his fridge were still safe to eat. He wasn't entirely prepared to hear Oswald sounding so happy compared to the tearful phone call the night before.

"Jim, old friend! Everything is wonderful! Well, mostly," Oswald admitted. "Things are a little strained between Ed and I, but I'm confident we'll work through it. I take back everything awful I ever said and thought about Isabella. She talked to him last night, calmed him down, helped him understand."

"Who are you and what have you done with Oswald Cobblepot?" Jim joked. "You sound like a pod person."

"Oh, I'm just so happy that I'm not losing Ed after all. I wouldn't be where I am today without his help, and I don't think I could continue without him," Oswald said.

"Good. I'm glad you've not lost that friendship," Jim said honestly.

"Of course, I'm grateful that you're my friend too, Jim," Oswald added. "Please, don't think that I'm not."

"You're a good friend to me too, Oswald,"Jim replied, smiling.

"Oh, I have to go. Mayoral duties tomorrow that I have to prepare for. Ed's a marvelous help, of course, but I must still rehearse my speech for the hospital fundraiser. I'll come by tomorrow for the flowers for my parents," Oswald said.

"Of course, I'll have them ready for you," Jim said.

They rang off, and Jim ignored the heaviness in his heart. He was glad that Oswald was happy, but wished that he would stop feeling so strongly for Ed. Ed didn't love him, and Jim... Well, Jim wouldn't call it love, not yet, but he was certainly becoming more and more fond of Oswald. Ordinarily, he would say something, make a move, but Oswald still being attached to Ed made matters more complicated. Oswald didn't feel anything for him except friendship, and Jim would have to be satisfied with that. He didn't have to hear Oswald's rejection in order to know that's what would happen.

"I'm sorry, old friend, but you know I'm still in love with Ed. It would never work between us."

He clutched his phone, and told himself to be happy with Oswald's friendship.


Things seemed to settle after that. Though the relationship between Oswald and Ed was still somewhat stiffer than it had been, Oswald had relented a bit in his absolute dislike of Isabella.

Oswald resumed texting little updates to Jim, and Jim would reply with the latest updates from the shop, or from Ivy and her greenhouses. Bruce Wayne was becoming a more regular customer as the weeks passed, at least while Selina was also in the shop, and he seemed to have a crush on her in his odd, stoic way. Selina pretended she didn't care, but Jim would catch her smiling more after he'd been in.

Ah, young love. I certainly hope they're more successful than I was at that age.

I'm sure you were a heartbreaker.

Really, Jim! I have never been a heartbreaker, unless you count the times my mother accused me of breaking her heart when I got detention for retaliating against school bullies, or when she accused me of abandoning her for the company of painted ladies.

She didn't like you bringing boyfriends or girlfriends home?

What boyfriends? I've never dated, girls or boys. There was never anyone to bring home.

Didn't you ever want to date?

Not seriously. Not until recently.

Not until Ed, Jim supposed he meant, and look at how badly that had turned out. As much as Jim wanted Oswald to notice him, he also wished that his first experience of romantic love had turned out better.

"Are you going to pine after him forever?" Selina asked. "Because it's getting kind of pathetic."

"I'm not pining," Jim protested.

"Right. Because you were never so attached to that phone before he started texting you, and you always open the shop on Saturdays now just so you can see him. You get this stupid dopey look when you're thinking of him as well." She stared him down, hands on her hips. "Tell him, or get over it or something. Go out and get laid or something."

"Selina!" Jim clutched his phone tightly.

"Ugh. Fine, I'll leave you alone, but think about what I said, alright? If you're not attached to this guy, then there's no reason you can't go out to a club one night and hook up." Selina threw her hands up and walked off.

Jim didn't think a one night stand was going to help, but Selina did have a point. Allowing his feelings for Oswald to develop further was pointless. So Jim resolved that he was going to get over his crush. They would be friends, nothing more.

Two days later, Oswald walked into the shop, looking worried and apologetic.

"Jim, old friend, I'm afraid I've done something rather silly," Oswald said, limping forward.

"Oswald? What's wrong?" Jim came around the counter to greet him.

"I'm afraid I need... Well, if you say no, of course I'll understand and I'm sure things will work out, but I... Well, I find myself in a bit of an awkward situation and I would appreciate your help."

Jim frowned. "Anything you need, Oswald. What's going on?"

Oswald opened his mouth, then hesitated. "First of all, I want to apologise for putting you in this position," he said. "I... well, Ed and Isabella saw me texting, and when they asked who, I said of course that I was talking with my good friend... but it seems they misheard me, and they think you're my boyfriend."

Jim stared. Boyfriend. They thought he and Oswald were dating? "They... what?"

"I tried to explain, but they wouldn't hear it," Oswald said, blinking innocent blue eyes up at Jim.

"So you want me to set them straight?" Jim asked. It would be awkward, sure, but he would do it if Oswald asked.

Oswald shook his head slightly. "No, no, I'm afraid they wouldn't listen. I... well, they want to have dinner with us, at the mansion," Oswald said. He gazed imploringly at Jim. "So what I mean to ask is, will you pretend to be my boyfriend?"