Chapter 92
The first thing I do when I get home is pick up the phone and call up Amanda. It's rather late at night, although knowing her, she'll be up anyway.
"Natalie, as usual I'm impressed. Already one tracked killer in six months work. I have him under my jurisdiction now, leave the rest to me. And something else has come up…"
"I don't like that tone Amanda. Another vacation to Central City? Maybe Star City this time? I've always wanted to try their famous burgers," I guess, sitting on the couch and kicking off my Zsaszette combat boots.
"Not quite," she counters, "your little friend, Oswald Cobblepot, has suddenly come up on my radar. While I don't think he'd be a suitable candidate for the squad, it's good that your connections are paying off. He could be a valuable resource, I suggest you keep a close eye. His ascension in the mob world has been alarming, and we project promising things for him in the future. It'd be a...wise investment, don't you think?"
Yes, a valuable resource and a wise investment, when he's not trying to kill me.
"You think I haven't figured that out yet? I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty to help him rise to the top if it means I get a more powerful ally out of it," I tell her, crossing my legs.
Just then, the door swings open and Oswald hobbles in, carrying two large duffel bags along with today's paper.
"I have to go, talk to you later," I mutter, before hanging up.
"Trixie…" Oswald looks down at me as I stand, and notices I'm still wearing my Sydney disguise.
Taking off my mask, my features rippling back into their original form, I smile, "Yes?"
His expression turns from an annoyed scowl to a joyful smile, before setting down the duffel bags on the floor and placing the paper on the desk, "May I see the information you retrieved from the police station?"
"You mean Marsha's case files? Of course, let me change," I reply, walking over to the bathroom.
Oswald sits down at the small dining room table, "I don't know why Zsasz insists on you dressing like a leather couch cushion, but it pleases me not."
After setting aside a fresh change of clothes by the door, I wash off the pale makeup around my neck and hands, the mask may disguise my face, but I have to worry about the rest. After letting my hair down and removing my Zsaszette costume, I breath a sigh of relief. While the outfit might look cool, it is rather uncomfortable. In my undergarments, I look around and realize that my change of clothing is gone. Huh, that's strange, I could've sworn-
"Looking for these?" Oswald asks, leaning in the doorway and holding up my blouse and cotton pants.
I burst out in laughter, before racing out of the bathroom to chase him, "Give those back!"
"This is what you get for raiding my closet!" he roars with an almost child-like glee, clutching my clothes against his chest.
"Those were my clothes that you took Oswald!" I counter, laughing as I pounce him.
We both land on the couch, the two of us laughing uncontrollably. However, it takes only moments before we realize that we're in each others' arms. I sit up, resting my lap on Oswald's legs to present myself to him, and he throws the clothes to the side and starts a passionate kiss. We forcibly grind into each other, nipping at each others' lips. He grabs me by the back of my thighs and forces me to stand, before pushing me against the wall. We continue to kiss, as he pins both of my hands up against the wall. He releases his lips, pulling back to examine me. He slurps up a lingering drop of my saliva from off of his lips, and stares at me for several long moments.
"I-..." Oswald begins, his eyes continually shifting, "I...I couldn't be happier."
He suddenly pulls me into a tight hug, his embrace engulfing me as he starts to sob, "I don't deserve you Trixie…"
Smothered in the smooth cloth of his suit, I struggle to nuzzle my way out of his shoulder before I can speak, "Ozzy, you're more than deserving of me. Don't beat yourself up over it."
After a brief pause, he lets out a chuckle, "You're not helping."
"Well, what's the fuss then? What's so wonderful about me that someone like you would be deemed 'undeserving'?" I inquire, releasing myself from his grasp and crossing my arms.
Oswald looks down, unsure how to answer that question, although not to brag, I could think of several reasons off of the top of my head.
"You...you're so forgiving, and it makes me question, why you keep coming back every time. Why you still let me in, after all I've done."
A small smile forms on my lips. True, in any normal relationship I would've probably been long gone by now. But there's something to be gained in Oswald, right? Or is that just an excuse I use for myself? Is there some other reason I cling to this...this monster? Love, perhaps? And why is love the first thing that comes to mind? Do I...do I truly love a monster? And if so, why? Am I settling with what is most easily available, or going with what my heart feels is right, but my head finds wrong?
"Honestly, I shouldn't forgive you. I know that. But Oswald...I think it's worth it. Not just considering everything you've done, good and bad, but, everything we've been through, together. I don't know, perhaps I'm being terribly sentimental but-"
He places a finger on my lips, "Shh...not another word."
We kiss, softer this time, as Oswald lowers my body onto the couch, with him nestled on top. I never understood his need to be on top, in more than one manner of speaking, but if it's what drives him…
He starts kissing my neck, working his way down to my chest. I look up, and smile.
"Uhm...Ozzy? Could I maybe, you know, put on some clothes now?"
His long nose buried in my skin and his eyes closed, he takes a few moments before opening his eyes, and looking up at me, "No."
Oswald and I sit at the small dining table by my kitchen, pouring over Marsha's case notes. I'm now dressed in the blouse and cotton pants I'd originally intended on wearing; meanwhile Oswald sits on the other end of the table, his suit and tie undone and disheveled, complete with a smug, satisfied smile on his lips.
"So, what's your beef with Marsha, Queen of Diamonds anyway? You think she's going to steal your spot as Don Maroni's right hand?" I ask him.
"Not only that," he grumbles, "the woman insulted me in front of Don Maroni, his men, and my own. I won't stand for it."
Flexing my hands and resting my chin on them, I stare intently at him, "You don't let words slide very well, do you? Someone insults you, you want revenge, is that wrong?"
Oswald puts down the paper he'd been mulling over, and shrugs, "You-...you wouldn't be wrong. As you know, I can be an...occasionally emotional man."
...occasionally? In my mind Oswald is only two things: logic and emotion. His methods are always based around logical reasoning, whether that be in his manipulation of others, or in a casual game of chess. His motives however, are entirely emotional. The constant need for power, wanting everyone who has ever insulted him to perish? That's not logical or ethical, that's a desire based entirely on an emotional need for...well, let's be honest, it could be a lot of things.
"So...what's in the bags?" I inquire, gesturing to the duffel bags he's set down on the floor.
A doe-like smile appearing on Oswald's face, he bends over and pushes them toward me, "They're for you."
I raise an eyebrow, "...me?"
"Yes, you. Open them," he chuckles, flashing his dirty, yellowed teeth.
Slightly afraid of what I will find in the bags, I get on my knees and begin unzipping the bag. Possible scenarios start running through my head. Live rats...a chopped up body...a bomb? A hideous prank or a serious death sentence?
To my surprise, the bag is filled with bundles of hundred dollar bills. A dash of blood has been spilt on the top layer of bundles, staining them.
"Oswald...where did you get this money?" I ask.
He looks down, smirking to himself, "Fish's men made a run on Don Falcone's armory. I knew about it ahead of time, so I stole some of his stash before Fish's men got to it."
"How did you know about the armory?" I push further, starting to raise my voice.
His fist pounds on the table, as he cackles away, "Oh Trixie...you led me to Liza, remember? Turns out she's been a mole for Fish this whole time...got the location of the armory and gave it to Fish through you...but then again, you already knew that, didn't you?"
I lean back in my chair, "Alright, fine, you caught me. But why give me a cut of the money? I don't need it."
"That's not the point," he clarifies, shaking his head, "I'm giving this to you because…"
He slides his hand across the table, until it reaches mine. His fingers lace around mine, and he holds my hand up, "...we're friends."
Oswald's hand continues, tracing up my arm, "And so, so much more…"
I rip his hand off of mine, "I appreciate the gesture, Oswald, but I don't need the money."
"It's not about needs…" with his good leg, he kicks one of the bags towards me, "if we're to solidify our partnership, we should start pooling together our resources, don't you think? Besides...I still owe you for that dinner."
"Alright, fine. I'll take the money. But if you think you can use me as your personal Swiss bank account-"
"We support each other, in whatever ways we can. Because...we're friends, right?" he asks, perking up his voice and shifting to a toothless smile.
A soft grin spreads across my face, and I reach other to place my hand on top of his, "More than friends."
As I flip through the various reports and newspaper clippings on Marsha, my hand rests on a particular newspaper clipping titled: "Socialite Accused of Diamond Robbery" with a picture of a much younger Marsha avoiding press and cameramen as she gets into a car.
"Check this out, Marsha gets her title "Queen of Diamonds" from an actual fixation on diamonds," I inform Oswald, turning over the article and throwing it over to him.
He snatches the article and looks over it, "Hmph, says here that she was never convicted of a crime. ...she weaseled her way out of it, didn't she? That old bitch."
"Plus, she disappeared not long after that. She must have stolen the diamond collection and made off with the proceeds. My only question is: why come back? She could have easily lived off of those stolen diamonds-"
"I think I know why," Oswald grabs today's paper that he'd brought in earlier, flipping to a specific page before turning it over for me, "see this? The Gotham Art Exhibit is hosting an authentic 'pink diamond' at their latest galla. I'll bet that's what Marsha's after. The question is: how do we catch her in the act?"
I turn around to my bedroom, where my Trickstress costume is tucked under the bedsheets, "Leave that to me."
Author's Note:
Guest: The Oswald/Natalie/Ed fluff does seem like the most popular choice, although it would be quite the tonal shift from the usual BOAF material. The Arkham interview tapes would be the most interesting to write, and would be my personal pick, but the threesome fluff is the most popular choice
davinaxo: If it's what you guys want...just prepare for some serious OOC
Erik-is-my-angel1234: Thanks, and it sounds like a lot of people want the threesome fluff. It's a silly idea I threw in because a guest suggested it, but since the anniversary is about thanking you guys for all the dedication to the story, I will subject myself to writing a threesome fluff, because I care :3
Guest: YAS! Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like the popular option, although I would have loved to write it
Thanks! :)