The week had gone fairly smooth, Gordon hadn't shown back up and Falcone's coffers were filling as quickly as ever. Her dear roommate had been calmer lately, more willing to sit and talk with her. Nothing important had been discussed, but they'd gotten a bit closer. Her phone started ringing, and she did even speak before she heard Oswald's voice. She could hear the strain in it through the phone, "Bring me some gauze, please." He sounded like he was actually hurt, hissing a little. "I'm already home, but can you please come deal with this?"
He broke off for a minute and all she caught were vague words. "Mooney...damn...son of a..."
"Hold on." Julia rolled her eyes, ducking into a pharmacy and cleaning out enough supplies for an industrial first aid kit. She payed, then ran home. Oswald was in the kitchen, a towel held around his hand. The sink was running, the water in the bottom tinged pink. She set the pharmacy bag down on the counter, taking Oswald's hand in her own. "Let me see."
He rolled his hand over, exposing the bloody hole in it. "You can deal with it, right?"
It was rather large, and very bloody, but hopefully she could help. "I think so. Here, let's try and stem the bleeding a little." She picked up the towel, applying a little pressure to the edges. Oswald jerked back, and she pulled him forward. Damn, but he was touchy about it. She she held his hand, and slowly the bleeding ebbed. She tore open a gauze pad, then wrapped a bandage around his hand, across his hand and between his thumb. She looked up at him, "You've got to stop getting yourself beat up like this."
"I'm not trying to get hurt." He grumbled, letting her pull him to the couch. She sat flush against him, laying her legs across his lap. His good hand immediately went to stroke them, reveling in the freshly shaven smoothness. She almost laughed when he bent his nose down to sniff at them, catching a whiff of the lotion she'd used. He quite enjoyed the scent, but absolutely refused to use it when he's offered it to him.
She giggled when he drew a finger along her calf. "At least I'm able to fix you back up."
His fingers inched farther up her leg. "Yet another of your talents."
Julia looked at the coffee table, looking at the magnificent brooch thrown carelessly across a magazine. The sharp pin that should secure it was marred by a thin line of blood. She picked up the brooch, twirling it in her hands. "The instrument of your torture?"
"Yes, unfortunately Miss Mooney was not as pleased with it as I had hoped."
"Well, it is rather large." Julia traced her fingers around the metal knots, then looked at him. His expression was unhappy to say the least. "Got it, not helping. Well, maybe your mother would like it. She seems to enjoy," She paused for a moment, trying to find a nice way of saying gaudy. "Unique items like this."
His fingers dipped behind her knee, something he liked to do because it made her stretch her back and relax into him. "Mother does have a very eclectic taste."
"Well, how about we take this and go down to the Harbor Street Market and pick her up a few more things? She might get a little bored all alone in that apartment."
"That sounds, interesting to say the least." Oswald replied, and they quickly collect coats and umbrellas and set off. The Harbor Street Market was on of Gotham's oldest establishments, an open air flea market that set up every day right by the fish market. Florists offered their wares next to fishmongers hawking their groupers and yuppies slinging their products at anyone with some money.
So Julia and Oswald took a cab to the fish harbor, across the river from the main port. Container ships were unloaded and reloaded and it wasn't unusual for a massive foghorn to break through the cries of seagulls as a new ship pulled in to have a brief moment of respite before steaming out again. The area around the market was bustling, stalls set up along the path in, people who didn't want to pay the rent to sell in the actual market. Buskers and beggars collected around the entrances, outside the seating areas for little restraints, all trying to get a little charity. The crowd moving in was as diverse as it could be, college kids and fishmongers and every type in between. Julia loved visiting the market, and she was more than excited to drag Oswald along with her.
Despite his much maligned minuscule moniker, Oswald was not actually a short person. That was actually rather useful in this situation, for she had something to mark their progress. All she had to do was look up and spot his head and catch up. While she was purchasing a very colorful bouquet for Mrs. Kapelput he had wandered over to a little bodega like area. So she bustled over with her bouquet and quickly looped her arm through his. He looked up from the apples he had been examining. "Flowers?"
"I swear, you meant need to learn when a woman needs flowers."
"Actually, your flowers send a conflicting message. Yellow carnations imply disdain, the lavender extreme hatred, and the marigold pain or grief." He ticked them all off, touching the buds in turn. "Mother would be able to tell in an instant."
Julia snorted. "You're coming with me then, if your mother likes flower symbols you'll need to pick them out."
He didn't seem to mind as she tugged on him, bringing him over to a florist's stand. The girl working the counter was understanding, especially when Oswald offered to buy a second bouquet to make up for the trouble. For his mother he selected elderflowers, pink carnations, and honeysuckle. He passed the bouquet to Julia and quickly shunted her off while he selected the second. She wandered back to the bodega, bought a five pound bag of apples, and planned to throw the damn thing at him when he showed back up. Of course he was carrying the second bouquet and his umbrella, plus he was limping and her resolve crumbled. So with flowers and apples they continued their wandering, and Julia ducked into a store her mother frequented when she still lived in Gotham. It specialized in fabrics, patterns, and thread for embroidery.
She wasn't sure if Oswald's mother embroidered, but considering that the woman seemed to live in Victorian times and had passed it down to Oswald, there was a fairly good chance she did.
So she bought fabric and thread, hoops, patterns, needles and scissors. Everything a woman interested in this craft could want. Oswald stood there watching her running around, bringing up more items for the clerk to ring up, his eyes jumping from one item to the next. He spoke once they left the store, Julia now carrying a very large paper bag in addition to the apples and flowers. "You sew?"
"My mother does, she taught me a little. Never got really interested, but I can manage a seam."
"Quite strange, a seamstress mobster."
"You can be a shit, sometimes." Julia shook her head as they got into a taxi and drove to Mrs. Kapelput's apartment. The stairs proved a bit of a difficult climb for Oswald, but she kept with him, even though she could have been up and back down by the time they reached her floor.
Oswald gestured for her to stay out of sight. "I'm going to calm Mother down a little, she might throw something if you came in with me." He thrust the second bouquet at her, then rapped sharply on the door.
He was whisked in and the door shut quickly.
Julia stood there for a moment, taking in the surroundings. It was dark, quiet, and she was fairly sure she could see some mold growing quite contentedly on a radiator in the corner. In all she was probably waiting ten minutes before Oswald opened the door and gestured for her to come in. She left the second bouquet and the apples by the door. He took the flowers and held them out to the woman on the sofa. "Mom, you remember Julia. Look, she even brought you flowers."
His mother glared at her. "Slut."
"It's very nice to see you again, Mrs. Kapelput." Julia replied, putting on a smile. "Oswald actually helped me pick out the flowers."
"Such a darling boy, and so good to his poor mama." Her attention seemed to flip, turning right to Oswald and accepting the flowers happily.
"I actually brought you something as well, here." Julia passed her the bag of sewing supplies. Now was the time to play one of her cards. Obvious flattery should help smooth things. "A woman of quality such as yourself should always have something beautiful to make."
Mrs. Kapelput looked like she wanted to throw her nose in the air. "I have not done this in a long time."
"Your fingers will remember." Julia said, moving forward a little. She could see the brooch, lovingly replaced in its wrappings and set on a table. At least someone would enjoy that thing. Oswald was sitting by his mother, glancing between the two of them. "Mine still do."
"You tell her to say these things?" Mrs. Kapelput turned to glare at Oswald.
"No, Mom."
"I don't approve of her as girlfriend. Far too Italian."
"Oh, I'm not his girl-"
"Mom, she's just a friend."
"Still too Italian. Get out!" Mrs. Kapelput stood, shooing Julia away before reaching for a magazine to swat with. Apparently obvious flattery had failed this time. Julia backpedaled, slipping out the door before any of her blows could land. Oswald came out a few moments later, looking a little disheveled.
Immediately her hands reached out to straighten his lapels, smooth his jacket. "I don't think your mother will ever like me."
"She doesn't like any woman I've brought back."
"Have there been many?" His hand grabbed hers, his grip tight. Julia dropped her eyes, looking as submissive as she could. "Sorry, shouldn't have asked." The walk back down the stairs was awkward, as was the cab ride back home.
She was getting a vase for the flowers when he spoke. "I apologize for my actions, it was rude. The flowers, I picked them for you." He walked over, still limping when he came up to the counter.
"Another message?"
"If you can find it." He smirked, and Julia stepped around into his arms. His panicking about holding her had decreased greatly, so that he only twitched a little when she drew his hands to her waist and cupped his face with hers.
"Oswald, you are absolutely insane." She said, before kissing him. It was a great deal more intense, and she slipped a bit of tongue in as well. He pushed her back against the counter, hands tightening and breath quickening. His kiss was much improved, and his handwork was still amazing. Julia was feeling deliciously warm when he broke the kiss off for a moment and proceeded to lick his way down her neck. "What are they?"
Oswald looked up from her neck for a moment. "Dahlia, white heather, red daisy."
"What do they mean?" She asked, but then quickly forgot her question as Oswald nipped at her shoulder. Oswald's fingers were moving lower, pawing at the waistband of her pants. Suddenly she thought their actions were much more suited to the bedroom and drew him along. Who cared if they'd only kissed twice, he was ready and she was more than willing. And a bed was much more preferable than the kitchen table. He was more than game, and shut the door behind them quickly.
The flowers sat forgotten on the counter, a bowl of apples next to them.
AN: First of all, thank you all for reading, reviewing and all that good stuff!
Bit of a rant here. I wish they'd do more with Oswald and the Falcone story each week. I feel I really get to advance the plot after those episodes and I don't want to jump canon, I want this to almost be a companion story to the series. But God! Don't get me wrong, I love Gordon and seeing Alfred and Bruce but every time they take the focus off of Oswald and Falcone I'm left drowning in an ocean of fluff because I don't want to violate canon. And they need to work on Barbara, because she's so wishy-washy and uncertain about everything it just annoys me.
Anyway, the Harbor Street Market is based on Pike's Place Market in Seattle, which I was able to visit last month on a trip. A true mark of an elegant lady in Victorian times was her embroidery. Flower language is a real thing, and was used in Victorian times to pass messages between lovers without their parents noticing. It seemed like something that Oswald would know.