A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy the second chapter. Please let me know if you liked it. Also! This story might contain explicit scenes in later chapters (that's the main reason behind the M rating) but I don't want anyone to think that this is just going to be that. My goal is to make this an entertaining story that includes drama, angst, excitement, romance, etc. And now, have fun with Oswald being an awkward birb.

The thing with Amelia was that she was too kind. Not only did she help a complete stranger and let him come into her house but she actually let him stay. Never, not once in Oswald's entire life had he met a person as naive as this woman. It had been two days—two days!—and she still let him sleep on the couch in her living room. Oswald had been right with the assumption that she lived alone.

Something about the girl was so innocent that he almost felt disgusted. Disgusted because he didn't feel like killing her which was probably a result from the shockingly comforting feeling of having someone around who actually wanted to help him without needing anything in return.

She didn't even want money for letting him live here and that in itself was weird because everyone always wanted money. Besides, she still believed he got robbed. Well, he had saved a good amount of cash for him and his mother in Gotham but it was pretty much out of reach at the moment. He needed to make a plan before he could return.

At first she had offered him to drive him back to Gotham, assuming that he had a flat there—which he had, with his mother—but Oswald quickly came up with another story. Apparently telling her that not only his car had been taken from him but that his entire flat had been robbed a few days ago was enough to make her think it was acceptable to let him live at her place for a while... Since he supposedly didn't have a home anymore. What a bunch of ridiculous lies. And she blindly believed him! Something that made the whole thing sound like it could be the truth was probably the fact that the crime rate in Gotham was ridiculously high. Still, Oswald couldn't tell whether she was nice or just extremely stupid.

Either way, she cooked for him and let him use her bathroom. That was more than he could ask for.

"I'm back."

Amelia's voice threw Oswald out of his thoughts. He sat up on the couch and blinked. He should really continue trying to come up with a good way to return to Gotham. He couldn't allow himself to have this little... vacation. He hardly wanted one. It was a waste of time.

A comfortable waste of time.

"I bought you clothes." she proudly announced and set two, white shopping bags on the table in front of him. Oswald stared at them, his eyes showing nothing but confusion. He looked up and met Amelia's sparkling eyes. He didn't quite know what to say. Had she...?

"You've been walking around in this torn suit forever. You have no money to buy a new one so I thought... Why not?" She patted the right bag once and took an unsure step backwards. "Sadly, I couldn't find any expensive suits." She frowned at her own words and placed her hands on her hips. It made her look adorable. "Besides, I probably couldn't afford one anyway." She shrugged. "So these are just some normal clothes."

Oswald still stared at the girl as if she had completely and utterly lost her mind. There was kindness, yes but then there was Amelia. "Uhm... Th- Thank you, Amelia but I really can't... You didn't have to..."

"But you have nothing." she immediately protested. "Everything you had is gone. I can't just... not help you." Oswald was taken aback.

"I am lost for words. Thank you so very much. I hope to be able to give back all you've done for me someday." He stood up but quickly forgot why. He smoothed the folds of his dirty trousers, opening and closing his mouth, fishing for something else to say.

"No problem, Oswald." she said with a smile on her lips. It was then that he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Something he thought he hadn't felt in years. This woman was helping him and he was lying right into her face. He could tell that she thought he was no danger, at all... That he was innocent to the core. Of course she did—he played his role well, after all.

She disappeared into the kitchen and the room was suddenly filled with nothing but this very annoying scent of guilt. She was just a girl. Just another person he used in his chess game. Just another poor soul that had stepped right into his trap. Just anoth—

"Would you like to have a cup of tea? Or coffee?" she called over her shoulder.

Oswald paused, tensing as an unfamiliar sense of warmth rushed through him—one that made him feel as if small, sweet sparks were gently tugging at every inch of his skin.

"Tea."

He should do it, he thought.

It was the fourth day and Amelia still let him live here. She still insisted that there was no other place he could go to and if one considered the made up story he told her and kept telling her... then that was very much the truth. Except it wasn't. Oswald had a home. There was mother. He had money. He could steal her car and go back to Gotham. It was time.

So yes, he should do it. He should get rid of her, Oswald thought as he stared at the window of the living room, watching as the rain hammered against the glass. How was he supposed to get a better idea of how Gotham worked with Amelia looking over his shoulder? How was he supposed to create a plan if she was there, constantly waltzing into the living room with her big smile and her friendliness. She would surely ask questions if she saw what he was up to and he wasn't in the mood to explain why exactly all of this was brilliant and why it was his destiny to rule Gotham.

This needed to stop.

Today.

Today he'd do it.

He would put his hands around her neck and... Or should he just grab a kitchen knife? The thought made him somewhat uncofmortable and that was strange. There shouldn't be a problem with making her disappear... Making Amelia disappear with her soft skin, her deer-like eyes and that naive expression on her face.

Stupid... Stupid Amelia.

It was late and Amelia was upstairs in her bedroom. She was probably asleep since she had to work tomorrow. What was her job again? Had she ever told him? All they seemed to do was small talk. Oswald didn't reveal too much about himself. She had asked for his first name and for some reason he had actually told her his real one. It just burst out of him.

So to her he was Oswald Anderson. What an idiotic name.

Oswald slowly got up from the couch. He was now wearing casual, black trousers and a grey jumper; both things part of what had been in the bags of clothes for him. He looked so... normal. He didn't like it. He missed his suits and the feeling of being of importance whenever he wore them. He mutely made his way to the stairs, trying be as quiet as possible. Going up the stairs in a silent manner wasn't easy with a limp. He stopped and paused whenever he thought he was being too loud and listened.

When there was silence he continued his path, the absolute darkness around him not making anything better. He eventually stood in front of Amelia's room and he suddenly realized that he'd never been in there before. He was curious and a little nervous, holding the knife in his hand. He slowly let his arm rise to the door handle and wrapped his long, pale fingers around it.

Now or never...

Oswald opened the door in one swift movement and stormed inside. A high pitched noise of shock escaped his mouth as his foot hit a big, breathy ball of furr on the floor. Since when did she have a cat?! The little monster growled loudly and jumped at his already damaged leg.

Oswald let out a scream and stumbled as he lost his balance. Seconds later he fell.

Suddenly light flooded the room and Amelia stood in front of him, looking down at him with wide eyes. He could see her bare legs and they looked just as soft as the rest of her. She was wearing a very oversized shirt. He could see her panties from the angle he was in. They were pink.

"Oswald!"

Oh god.

Oswald stared up at the young woman, blinking, looking just as baffled as her. He then realized that he was sitting on the knife since it had slipped out of his hand. That much was good. She wouldn't be able to read his intentions right away, then. Perhaps he could still come up with a story and—but why would he do that? Why didn't he just kill her now? Why didn't he just stand up, take the knife and...

"Are you okay? What happened?" The worry in her voice made him lose the track of his thoughts. How could she ask if he was okay? He just tried to come into her room! Why wasn't she mad at him?

The excuses already stormed out of Oswald's mouth like a waterfall.

"I didn't- I didn't know you were already asleep and I wanted to- I wanted to ask where you put the remote. I am so sorry... I- I forgot to knock." He stumbled over his own words like a fool.

Amelia looked at Oswald with an unreadable expression. She looked baffled, to be quite honest. She raised her brows a little and blinked. "No problem." She swiftly shook her head and there it was again, her smile—the one that practically said 'don't worry' on its own. She reached out to give him her hand in an attempt to help him up. Oswald panicked since the knife was still hidden behind his back. He managed to grab it without letting her attention catch his movements and burried it in the back pocket of his new trousers as he grabbed her hand in an unintentionally rough way.

The scenario reminded Oswald a lot of their first encounter and he absently remembered how she had offered him her hand at her doorstep a few days ago. He came to a shaky stand and unsurely ran his hand through his hair. He finally had the chance to look around her room. His gaze caught a big window, paintings with warm colours, a king sized bed with blue sheets and a shelf full of books. The furniture looked old in a very fasionable way.

"Didn't I put the remote on the couch?" Amelia mumbled to herself and put her hands on her hips. She did that often. Oswald had grown oddly fond of it.

"It actually doesn't matter that much. It's no bother, really. I'm sure I'll find—" He was cut off by the cat that wandered around his legs and pressed its head against them. He had almost forgotten about the filthy thing.

"You never told me you had a cat." he said and huffed with a smile as he looked at Amelia who was standing painfully close to him. "Oh, he's... He's actually a stray cat but I let him in sometimes." She bent down and Oswald instantly forced himself to look away.

She swooped up the big, orange cat and held it in her arms like a baby. "You little idiot." she said and squeezed the thing as its fur grazed her neckline which caused Oswald's eyes to travel down to... Well...

In that moment his brain gently seemed to shut itself off and he kept staring.

Most of the time it wasn't difficult for Oswald to keep his mind focussed so it was a very rare situation. Amelia let the cat hop away. Her arms fell to her sides and she remained still, not really moving from the spot. When Oswald realized what he was doing and that he was staring at her in this inappropriate way, his face grew hot and a redness rushed into his cheeks. He met her glare and clenched his fists, holding his breath. She looked so delicate. So soft. His brain had been on standby before but now it was working on overdrive. He felt nervous and exposed. Panic crossed his features.

But then there was that small, trembling movement that marked her lips and it came off as if she was trying to hide a grin. She looked at her feet and bit her lower lip. He suddenly began to have a rather funny feeling in his chest.

He could have killed her then and there.

The thing was that he didn't want to.