TIB: Yes! I actually am updating again! I think binge watching the show really inspired me, because I can't seem to stop writing for this story. (I'm also crying over 3x14 and writing to make myself feel better. If anyone needs someone to cry and rant with, I'm here for you!)
Warning: There is some sexual content at the end of this chapter. It's not explicit, but you can skip it if you'd rather not read it.
Chapter 07
Acceptable Career Choice
"Sing first. We'll talk after, if you're worth my time." Well, Oswald certainly doesn't hold back. She nods at him and moves over to the piano, and she straightens up her spine after sitting down. Poor posture while playing is just bad form. After a moment and one deep breath, she settles her fingers against the keys and begins to play. As she starts to sing the song properly, she thinks back to her long goodbye with Victor.
"Everybody loves the things you do. From the way you talk, to the way you move."
He'd kissed her like he was trying to make a point, and her lips still feel sensitive from all the attention he paid them. She can feel little points of pain along the backs of her thighs, from where he held her and pulled her closer to him. With her eyes closed like they are now, she can still feel the solid strength of him pressed up against her. Can remember the way their chests and stomachs moved in tandem because of the lack of space between their bodies.
"Everybody here is watching you, 'cause you feel like home. You're like a dream come true."
She'd tried pulling back, but he'd been far too tempting. After only drawing in a few quick breaths, she'd bent back down to taste him. He'd let her have complete control of their kiss with a quiet groan, and her fingers had scrambled against the buttons of his shirt. One, two, three. That's all she'd been able to get undone before her fingers started to shake, but it'd been enough. Warm skin had made her fingertips tingle, and Victor's stuttering breath had felt…sacred.
"You look like a movie. You sound like a song. My God this reminds me, of when we were young."
When breathing became important to both of them, they'd been forced to pull apart. Victor had ducked down to move his lips along her neck, and she'd cried out when his teeth found the sensitive spot on her neck. The same spot he'd marked earlier, before they left for the warehouse. Her nails had scraped across the tops of his shoulders as he bit down on her neck, and her skin had felt tight and hot all over.
"And a part of me keeps holding on, just in case it hasn't gone. I guess I still care. Do you still care?"
One hand had been on her hip and the other buried in her hair when her phone went off, a reminder that it was nearly time to leave, and they had both groaned in disappointment. She'd promised him that one day they wouldn't be interrupted, but Victor had just laughed and then put her shoes on for her. She stood in the doorway before she left, just looking at Victor reclined back on the bed, and she had ached. Even now, all she can think about is going home to him.
"It was just like a movie. It was just like a song. When we were young." She holds the last note as the music from the piano fades, and she stands up to move back to the center of the stage when she's done. The lights make it a little difficult to see Oswald's expression, but he claps after she's standing at the center of the stage.
"Beautiful! Don't you think so, Butch?" He's still sitting at a table, with Butch standing just behind him, and she can see both of them better now. Her eyes have adjusted to the bright lights, finally. Butch looks her over again, and she resists the urge to make herself fidget under the stare. Normal people fidget under intense stares, but she's not trying to appear normal.
"She's somethin' else," Butch agrees. He sounds sincere enough, and her eyes land on the scar on the side of his forehead. V. It looks like Victor really did do a number on the big guy.
"Thank you," she says and beams a smile at both of them. Victor asked her to be herself, so she's going to be herself. (Within reason, of course.)
"Come! Have a drink!" Oswald beckons her with a wave of his hand, so she slips off the edge of the stage and lands easily on her feet. "Butch, get us something to drink. What would you like Miss…I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?"
"Bexley Cavanaugh, but you can just call me Bex. I have to walk home, so just a glass of water is fine." She's standing next to the table now, but she doesn't sit down until Oswald inclines his head towards the seat opposite him. Only then does she sit down.
"You heard the lady, Butch. Get her a glass of water." Butch looks at her for a moment and then moves towards the bar, and Bex moves her eyes over to Oswald.
"I'm glad you enjoyed the song, Mister Cobblepot. Did you enjoy it enough to give me a job?" Oswald laughs out loud at that, a loud and echoing sound, and Bex smiles. This is either going really well, or the current crime boss of Gotham is about to execute her.
"Why do you want to work for me?" She thought about this earlier. She doesn't want to appear desperate, but she needs to get this job. They can always come up with another plan, true, but this is the quickest way to put their plan into action.
"I'm bored, and I like to sing." Oswald's eyes narrow on her, but she holds still. Butch places a glass filled with water in front of her, and she looks up at him. "Thank you, Butch."
"She's got manners. I like that," Butch says as he stands behind Oswald's chair again. She reaches out to grab the glass, and she sees Oswald eyeing the marks along her arm. Her left arm. Then his eyes move over to what he can see of her right arm.
"Interesting look. Accident?"
"Be Bexley."
"Bad childhood." It's close to an honest answer. Something shifts in Oswald's expression, softens it, and she swallows down a little more water before placing the glass back on the table.
"I hope whoever did it is six feet under." She arches a brow while tipping her lips into a half-smile, which is close to an answer. It makes Oswald laugh and clap his hands once, and Butch grins at her. Looks like non-answers are just as good as verbal ones.
"Am I employed?" Oswald leans forward, but she stays leaned back in her chair.
"When can you start working?"
"Whenever you want me to."
"Good answer!" Oswald says as he slams his hand down on the table. It would make most people jump, but she stays right where she is. "Be here around eight tomorrow, to fill out paperwork and then prepare. We close at sunrise, but you can leave after two. Any questions?"
"Dress code?" She normally just wears whatever is comfortable, but she's sure that nightclub singers are supposed to dress a certain way. Maybe she should actually wear a dress?
"I don't care. Would you like me to get someone to drive you home?" A criminal but still a gentleman; she just might start liking Oswald Cobblepot.
"Thanks, but I got it. See ya tomorrow, Mister Cobblepot, Butch."
"I like her, boss. I think she'll be good for business," she hears Butch say before she slips outside. It makes her smile, small and just for herself, and she hums a little as she walks the streets of Gotham. She knows these streets, intimately. When the foster homes became too much, she escaped to the streets. Just one of many trying to survive in this city.
She's been walking for ten minutes, maybe, when a small body knocks into her. It causes her to stumble back a few steps, and she looks down to see messy red hair. Under that, a pair of blue eyes peer up at her from a pale and dirty face. A street kid. She's wearing a green striped sweater, but it's thin and ragged. That's not enough to keep someone warm, not with how cold it gets at night. The girl blinks before straightening up, and her cheek twitches as her eyes narrow.
"Got any money?" Definitely a child of Gotham.
"Sure I do, and I'm in a good mood too. How about we go buy you a blanket and some hot food?" A blanket will last longer than a jacket, and it can double as something soft for her to sleep on.
"What's the angle?" The girl's voice is definitely suspicious, so she's a smart one. That's good. The smart ones survive longer.
"No angle. I don't like eating alone. You're free to say no." The girl thinks it over, she even crosses her arms as her eyes look directly into Bex's, and she waits the girl out.
"I'm Ivy. You are?"
"Bex." The girl nods and then squares her shoulders.
"I want a burger."
"I like burgers, so we can do that. Know a good place?" Instead of answering, Ivy spins on her heel and starts walking. With a quiet laugh, Bex follows after her. While the small girl leads her to some place good to eat, hopefully, Bex pulls out her phone and sends a quick text to Victor.
Got the job. Feeding an orphan. Want anything?
Of course, she's not sure that Ivy is an orphan, but the kid has that look about her. Most of the kids living on the streets have either been orphaned or abandoned. The abandoned kids look angry, while the orphaned ones usually look resigned. Bex could be reading the girl wrong, but she's usually good at reading people. The young girl leads her to a rundown looking diner, but the inside is clean. She walks to a back booth with her head held high, and Bex follows behind her with an amused smile. Bex slips into the booth opposite the girl and is surprised when a waitress appears almost instantly. Ivy orders a vegetarian burger and fries, with a vegan chocolate milkshake, and Bex smiles up at the waitress.
"I'll have the same." The woman huffs and walks off, and Bex shrugs before looking across the table. Before she can say anything else, she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. She easily pulls it out and reads the simple message from Victor.
Don't bring home any strays & I'll fix my own dinner
"Is that your boyfriend?" Ivy asks the question while she's placing the phone back into her pocket, and Bex thinks it over. The word seems juvenile, but it sort of fits.
"I guess he is."
"You must really like him. You smiled really big." Observant little thing. Bex drums her fingers on the tabletop and slowly nods her head.
"Yeah, I like him. If I didn't like him, he wouldn't be my boyfriend." This time the girl nods slowly, as if imitating her, and she places her small hands on top of the table.
"You shouldn't marry him." That's an odd thing to say. Don't most people encourage marriage?
"Oh? Why's that?" Ivy leans forward, so Bex does the same. It's almost like they're sharing secrets.
"I heard my mom say that my dad changed after they got married. That's when he got mean," Ivy whispers. Oh. Oh. The poor thing. Bex considers reaching forward to grab the girl's hands but decides against it in the end. Touching without consent isn't very nice, and it's not allowed.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I'll keep that in mind, okay?" The thought of her getting married is ludicrous. She's sure Victor would laugh if she mentioned it to him; actually, she might mention it to him just to see him laugh.
"What do you do?" Bex leans back in her seat and bites down on her lip to stop herself from smiling when Ivy copies her. The little thing is just too cute.
"Starting tomorrow night, I'm going to be a singer at a nightclub. Sounds fun, huh?" The waitress snorts as she sets their milkshakes down, and Bex decides not to pay her any mind. Ivy immediately pulls her milkshake closer to her and sits up as straight as she can to start gulping it down, but Bex only takes small sips of hers. She's never had a vegan milkshake, but she can't taste the difference. Tastes good to her.
"Do you live in a nice place?" Her penthouse apartment is nice. One of the nicer places that she's ever lived.
"I do. A penthouse," she answers honestly. Ivy pulls away from her straw with a quiet sigh, and Bex notes that half of the drink is gone. Impressive.
"I stayed in a nice place once." For some reason, Bex is sure that the nice place wasn't Ivy's home with her parents. Tragic. The small apartment that Bex lived in with her mother was especially tiny, just one room, but it was home.
"Where do you stay now?" Since Ivy is drinking down her milkshake, Bex takes another small sip of her drink while waiting for her to answer.
"Around," Ivy shrugs. A few big sips later, Ivy's milkshake is gone. Definitely impressive. That's around the time that the waitress drops off their food, and Bex makes sure to catch the woman's eye.
"Another chocolate milkshake for her, thanks." The waitress makes another noise in her throat before walking off, and Bex has to take a slow breath to cool her anger. There's no need to be so rude. She turns back to face Ivy, but the girl is already making a dent in her burger. Bex follows suit and is surprised when the food is actually good.
"Why're you doing this?" Ivy asks after her burger is gone. Bex has been pinching bites off of her own burger, and she turns her plate around so that she can start picking at her fries. Thankfully, her mouth is full and stops her from smiling when Ivy reaches across the table to grab her burger. The waitress finally drops off Ivy's milkshake, but the girl is too busy eating to reach for it.
"I was eleven when my mom died. I had foster homes, but I slept on the streets most nights. Know what I remember most?" Ivy shakes her head, because her cheeks are stuffed full, so Bex continues. "Being hungry. The foster parents never wanted to spare food for us, so it felt like I was always hungry. Know what I mean?"
"It's always wet," Ivy says with a small downward tilt of her lips. It's close to a childish pout, but Bex knows what the girl means. It rains so much in Gotham.
"Yeah, this city has a serious rain problem. You got something over your head at night?" She's not going to ask if the girl has a roof over her head, because she can already guess the answer to that question.
"I got something." Ivy drinks on her milkshake now that the burger is gone, and Bex pushes her fries across the table. The girl starts packing them in, clearly hungry, and Bex just watches as she finishes both of their fries. This girl might not know it, not yet, but that hunger is never going to go away. Even now, years later, Bex still eats her food as quick as she can because she remembers the gnawing feeling of slow starvation.
Twenty minutes later, Bex stands in front of Ivy outside of a small department store. The girl has a thick blanket hanging over her shoulder and a thick sleeping bag tucked under her other arm, and Bex wishes she could do more. There's nothing she can really do for the girl though. Kids living on the street is just another part of life. She lived on Gotham's streets for a while herself, and she turned out all right. (Well, she turned into an assassin, but that's an acceptable career choice in Gotham.) So instead of offering the girl a place to sleep in her apartment, she smiles and tucks her hands into her pants pockets.
"If you get into trouble, kid, go to Oswald's and ask for Bex. You know where Oswald's is?" Ivy nods and adjusts her grip on the sleeping bag.
"Place with the umbrella outside. Used to be a fish."
"That's the one. Take care, kid." Ivy nods and walks around her, heading south and probably to the Narrows, and Bex hears her call out over her shoulder.
"Take care, Bex!" Cute kid. Bex counts to ten before she starts walking, north towards Uptown, and she keeps her head down as she walks through the city. The closer she gets to her apartment, the cleaner the streets become. There's less homeless people milling around, and the sidewalks are a little cleaner.
"What smells so good?" she asks as she walks into her kitchen. Victor looks over his shoulder at her, and she takes in another deep breath as she leans against the counter next to the stove.
"Spaghetti." The pot is huge, and she watches as Victor sprinkles in some spices.
"Can I have a bowl? A big one?" Her stomach feels a little empty, and something as simple as spaghetti should not smell that good. Is Victor magic?
"Didn't you just eat with some little street rat?" She should correct that, but he's not exactly wrong.
"I gave her most of my food. Her name is Ivy and…"
Bex spends the next ten minutes telling Victor all about the little girl, and supposed orphan, that bumped into her on the street. She also briefly mentions entertaining the idea of killing their waitress but that she decided not to in the end. Mostly because she wanted to come home. As she talks, Victor fixes them both a large bowl of spaghetti and carries them out onto the patio. She'd paused long enough to suggest eating in the living room, but Victor had just raised a brow at her before walking out onto the patio. So she'd shrugged and followed after him, and she is now enjoying her first bite since she's done talking about Ivy.
"How'd it go with Cobblepot?" She washes down the spaghetti with a sip of water, and she taps her fingers against the side of the glass.
"I got the job! I think they both liked me," she answers with a smile. Then she immediately digs back in.
"They?" Victor is eating at a slower pace, so she should probably slow down, but she's really hungry. It's not like Victor has never seen her quickly scarf her meals down, so why change now?
"Oswald and Butch." Something changes in Victor's expression, and Bex leans towards him to try and figure out what. It's something about Butch's name that he doesn't like, but what? "You don't like Butch?"
"I don't like Butch liking you." It's not jealousy coloring his tone. She knows what that sounds like, and this isn't it. She reaches out with one hand and lays her palm flat against Victor's forearm, and she can feel how tense he is through the fabric of his shirt.
"Care to elaborate?" she asks. She watches his jaw work, grinding his teeth together, and waits patiently for him to answer her. While she waits, she keeps one hand on his arm and uses the other to shovel another forkful of food into her mouth. What? She's multitasking.
"Butch was a challenge. He was strong-willed and stubborn. There's a possibility that he'll break his conditioning one day." Strong-willed people are hard to…condition, that much is definitely true, so Victor is probably worrying about her future safety. Especially since they're going through with their plan to be close in public. There's a strong chance that Butch won't like Victor, which would make her a logical target if his conditioning does break down.
"You don't have to worry about me. Butch is a big guy, but I can take him." She says it with a wink, and Victor narrows his eyes on her. "I can. I've killed guys bigger than him, no problem. Well, except for that one time. Totally an isolated incident though."
"Mhmm. So you got the job. What else did Cobblepot say?"
Dinner is eaten between run-on sentences about her audition, and Victor listens with his full attention. Which is appreciated, because she keeps getting distracted. She even talks about how she liked Oswald's hair at one point, and Victor only gave her a look as she rambled on. When she's done talking, and eating, Victor gathers their plates up and takes them into the kitchen. She picks up from there and starts washing the few dishes that have accumulated over the day, while Victor stands behind her and distracts her. That's not fair. She's sure Victor doesn't mean to distract her, but that doesn't make him any less distracting. He stands behind her, with one arm wrapped securely around her waist and the other across her torso so his fingers can brush the exposed parts of the scar on her chest, and his chin is resting on her shoulder.
"I want to go to bed," she says once the dishes are rinsed and put away. She's still standing in front of the sink, with Victor standing at her back, and she feels him shift against her as he stands to his full height.
"You've had a long day. Meeting two of my girls, auditioning for Cobblepot, feeding a street rat…you must be exhausted." Both of his arms are around her waist now, and he loosens his hold just enough for her to turn around. She meets his dark eyes with a smile and then leans up on her toes so that she can run her nose along his jawline. She skims her lips down his jawline as she lowers herself back to her feet and finds his eyes again before she speaks.
"Who said anything about sleeping?"
She squeals as Victor easily throws her over his shoulder, but the high-pitched sound quickly turns into a laugh as he reaches the stairs in a few quick strides. She knew having long legs was good for something. He takes the stairs two at a time, with her laughing the whole way because of the way her body bounces with the movement, but her laugh is cut off as she's flipped over and lands on the mattress. Her legs hang off the end of the bed on either side of Victor's thighs, and she spreads her arms out across the bed. Since she's lying in the middle, her fingers don't even reach the edges.
"Are you waiting for a written invitation?" she asks when Victor just continues to look at her.
"Just admiring," he drawls out and skims a fingertip along the top of her thigh.
"You could always admire me with my clothes off." She smiles after she says it and then laughs again as Victor grabs her arms and pulls her into a sitting position. His hands lightly touch against her ribs as he reaches for the bottom of her shirt, and she holds her arms up so that he can pull it over her head. Once it's off, she falls back onto the bed and raises a brow expectantly.
"Going to make me do all the work?" he asks. His fingers deliberately touch against the scars on her stomach as he reaches for the button on her pants, but he bends down to tug off her shoes and socks once her jeans are open. The tease.
"Think of it as opening a present." His hands move up her legs, slowly, until he's pulling the denim off of her. She raises her hips quickly and then helps him by wiggling her legs free from the tight fabric, and she sighs once she's finally free. All that's left now is a matching bra and panty set, both purple, and she's happy that she's wearing something a little cuter than her usual functional undergarments. Even though she's sure that Victor doesn't really care about what she's still wearing.
"A present all for me?" She sits up before he can reach for her, and she brings her hands up to his shirt collar. His shoulder holster is already off, which makes this a little easier for her.
"It's certainly not for anyone else." The first three buttons come undone easily, and she smiles in triumph when the next three slip free as well. She untucks his shirt and then runs her hands up bare skin as she pushes it off of him. The last time he was shirtless, she didn't get to truly appreciate it. She's not making that mistake this time.
He's lean and strong, from over a decade of staying in killing shape, and he tenses beautifully under her mapping fingers. When she reaches his pants, he holds still and doesn't make any move to help her. Or hurry her. He's letting her be in control. That's nice of him, but she wants to lose a little control tonight. She quickly pops the button and pulls down the zipper, and Victor does move now to help her get his pants down and off. Her hand grabs his as she starts to move towards the head of the bed, and she takes a moment to just watch the way his muscles move under his skin as he crawls towards her. Once he's even with her, she loops her arms around his neck and pulls him down against her. There. That's what she was missing earlier. She wants to feel his skin against hers, and she arches up so that she can feel more of him.
Apparently she gave some kind of signal, because Victor stops hesitating. Lips move against hers as hands move over her exposed skin, and she bends her knees so she can hold him closer to her. He pulls back with a quiet groan, a deep sound that makes her thighs tense, and moves his lips down to her neck. She pushes on his shoulders, to let him know that she doesn't want to hold back, and feels him grin against her collarbone. Weapon callused hands move around to her back, and a few fingers undo the clasp to her bra. She pulls the fabric off and slings it away from the bed, and then moans loud enough that she'd normally feel self-conscious but is too consumed with the rough feel of Victor's lips against the sensitive peaks of her breasts to really care.
As good as it feels to have his lips, tongue, and teeth dancing across her chest…she wants more. She's never wanted more before, but this is different. This is Victor. He must be able to feel her urgency, because he moves down to suck and bite marks on her stomach in between the scars. After she's worked up a small sweat and has started to breathe completely out of rhythm, he moves lower. His thumbs brush across her hips, just above the line of her panties, and she lifts her head up. She wants to speak, to reassure him, but she's not sure what her voice will sound like. So she nods and shifts her hips, side to side. The panties are quickly pulled off and tossed in the same direction as her bra, and her quiet gasp echoes in the room as teeth make a spot just above her knee. Her hands blindly scramble until they land on his shoulders, and she pulls her knees up as she pulls on him.
"So impatient," he whispers against the inside of her thigh.
The whine she makes sounds unlike any other sound she's ever created, high and in the back of her throat, and strong hands push her thighs down against the bed. The move just makes her spine arch, and she digs her nails down into Victor's back. His fingers spread apart and press down hard enough to bruise, and she nearly begs in her frustration as his tongue maps out the intricate lines of her thigh tattoo. Just when she's about to give in and actually beg, he moves. She cries out as he licks up the center of her before sealing his lips around the most sensitive part of her, and his hands move to grip her hips to keep her from pushing up against the feeling. She's never allowed anyone to do this before, so this is new. She's starting to see what all the fuss is about.
Now, Victor isn't hesitant or gentle. The way his tongue moves is nearly violent and exactly what she needs, and she makes a sound close to a scream when he moves his hands down. One hand joins his mouth between her legs, and she's not in the right state of mind to look up and see where his other hand is. Not that she cares, as long as he doesn't stop what he's doing. Every inch of her is burning and tight. It feels like she could fall apart at any moment. She knows what an orgasm is, she's given herself plenty over the years, but this…this is something different. Something that's making her feel like she's slowly going crazy, and her thighs shake as she weakly pushes her hips up. She needs…She needs…
Bex forces her eyes to open and then manages to lift her head. She sees her own tense body first, covered in sweat and darkening red marks, and then looks farther down. Victor's eyes are already on her, and they look completely black as they watch her. He's been watching her this entire time. She sees the dark pink flash of his tongue just as two fingers curl inside of her, and she screams out something that resembles his name as her orgasm crashes through her. Her head kicks back against the bed as her feet dig down into the mattress, and everything goes quiet and dark for a moment. Or several moments. It's hard to keep track of time when she feels like this.
The next thing she's aware of is Victor lying next to her, propped up on his elbow on his side and smiling smugly down at her. She wants to tell him that he shouldn't smile like that, but she's sure that she just blacked out a little and she's still breathing a little hard. He's earned the right to be a little smug. So instead she reaches up and places one hand on his cheek, and she lets her thumb trace across his swollen bottom lip. Her thighs feel numb and her chest feels hot, and she makes a quiet sound when Victor's tongue sweeps across the pad of her thumb.
"Can we do that again?" she asks a moment later. Her voice sounds normal enough. Just a little hoarse. Victor laughs, low and deep, and her legs shift.
"Later. I think we need a shower and a nap first." When she pouts, Victor leans over and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Later. I promise."
"I'm expecting one hell of a good morning," she says as Victor slips off the bed. He easily pulls her to the edge and then scoops her up into his arms, and she lets her head roll against his shoulder as he walks towards the bathroom.
"You got it, boss."
Finis: Another chapter down! I know Bex's first meeting with Oswald might seem a little meh, but I've got plans for how their friendship is going to progress. Remember, this is taking place between episodes 3 and 4 of Season 2. It'll be a few chapters before I'm caught up with Episode 4, which is when Oswald meets with Galavan for the first time, and there's going to be a lot of Oswald-Bex interaction before then. Because I think they'd be good friends, don't you?
Also, Ivy will be in the story quite a bit. I've already got several scenes planned for her, because I like the idea of Bex (and Victor) pseudo-adopting a little street kid. I'd say more, but I don't want to give away any surprises!
In the next chapter, there's more Oswald! And more Ivy! And more Bex and Victor, of course! The next chapter is finished and I'm working on the one after it, so I should be able to update pretty soon. I'd still love to know people's thoughts though! Am I messing up anyone's characterization? Is there something (or someone) that you want to see?
Song used: When We Were Young by Adele.
Lili: Haha, Bex has her own ways of persuasion. Writing the interactions between Bex and Victor is just so much fun! They're in a "honeymoon" stage right now, and I can't wait to write them a little ways down the road. Because they might be a little distracted right now, but they are both assassins. I love Oswald! I'm a little nervous writing him, because I love his character so much and I don't want to mess up his characterization. He's going to show up a lot though. (I have the scene planned for when Oswald finds out the truth…It's going to be fun.) Thank you so much for reviewing!
