I own nothing but Nicki.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep."

Oswald awoke to the sound of his window opening. Propping himself up on his elbows and squinting at the patch of moonlight he could see a figure climbing through it. A siloutte (one that he was ashamed to admit had become very familiar to him) entered softly and delicately, barely making a sound. It was her.

Wait….This all seemed familiar. Oswald cocked his head to the side as he watched the small figure lower herself lightly onto the floor, not making a sound. Nicki? He tried to whisper her name, but his voice caught in his throat. This was just like his dream. Or this was a dream. It had to be a dream…didn't it?

He watched breathlessly as Nicki, came gliding across the room towards him. She wasn't in the beautiful dress he had conjured for her in his dream the last time. On the contrary, she was dressed in a maroon leather crop top and matching shorts that exposed her bare stomache, collarbones, and legs. Fishnet hoes helped to cover her naked limbs but only did so much. He tried to sit up further, taking note of how his leg was tangled in the sheet and how very un-dreamlike such a minor triviality of that was. This all felt so real. Was he awake?

His eyes now having finished roaming her body, Oswald turned his attention to Nicki's eyes, seeing in them a terrifying dead look that he had seen before in her brother. Her expression sent a chill up his spine as he saw her crouch slightly, a lion about to pounce. No, not a dream, this was a nightmare.

He tried to cry out as she was suddenly on top of him but she clamped her hand down hard on his mouth, pushing him back onto the bed. With her other hand, she pulled a knife from the back of shorts and pressed it to his throat. The twinge of pain on his neck from the blade made it very clear to him that he was very much awake…and very much afraid.

She lowered her head beside his ear and hissed, "Don't scream. Don't call for help. Don't. Try. Anything. One wrong move and I slit your throat right here and now. Nod if you understand."

In spite of the danger of the situation, Oswald was fully aware that his shortness of breath was due to more than just the fear for his life. There was something about her hot breath against his ear and the warm knife against his throat that made Oswald very grateful for the blanket that still covered him from the waist down. Warm because its been carried against her body. Her body that's now right on top of-

"Nod if you understand," she hissed again, reminding him that he still not had responded. Squeezing his eyes tight he nodded. Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she sat back on his stomache, releasing her hand from his mouth, sliding it down to prop herself up against his chest. Or to further restrain him if necessary, he couldn't be sure. He felt the knife leave his throat as well, but not by much. Opening his eyes, he saw her on top of him, those brown eyes he had become so familiar with, glimmering with a dark fire in the moonlight that was both terrifying and arousing. He was suddenly reminded of her in the alleyway when had reprimanded the young man from Mooney's bar. Just remembering her overpowering that boy, how cold and fierce she had been, made his pants feel tighter and having the lethal tiger that was Nicki Maroni sitting on top of him, in his bed, with very little clothes on made him so aroused that he was almost ashamed of himself.

"So," she whispered, tracing his neck with her knife, "the whole hero schtick. All Fish Mooney's idea I assume?"

Oswald, who had been extremely distracted by the warm metal moving along his throat for two reasons, realized that he hadn't actually understood her words. "Hero…?"

"You set me up," she whispered sharply, putting all of her weight onto him and pressing the knife under his chin. Oswald gulped, wishing desperately that she would either get off of him…or sit back just a little further…tried very hard to keep his voice low.

"I don't know-" He tried.

"Don't. Lie. You knew from the beginning who I was, and did everything you could to try to get me into the Falcone family."

Oswald's eyes went wide. So that's what this was about. Had someone told her that he had been trying to trick her? Did she really believe that he of all people would be on the front lines for charming girls? The whole thing struck him as ridiculous, but still his heart was racing as he realized what the price of his supposed betrayal would be.

"Miss Nicki, please," he choked out, eyes wide now with fear. "You have to b-b-believe me. I had no idea about any of this until after the night with Neeko." He wasn't sure if he was proud or ashamed of how pathetic he sounded, pleading with her and willing her with quivering facial features to believe him. He wasn't lying, but would she believe him.

Nicki seemed to be thinking similar thoughts. She regarded him with a cold stare, as if hoping to break him with her eyes alone.

"Believe me," he whispered, his breath coming out in short pants now.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and he was afraid to so much as swallow the hard lump in his throat for fear of it getting nicked by her knife. Finally, her stony expression broke into one of guilt and regret. "I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, almost inaudibly. She tucked the knife back into her shorts and, much to Oswald's surprise, pressed herself down on top of him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him. "I'm sorry, I just, I feel like I can't trust anyone now." Her voice was watery, as if she were tryng not to cry, and muffled because she had, much to his shock, pressed her face into his chest. He was unsure of what to do. Her body was flush against his, just barely avoiding the embarrassing lump beneath the covers, and he could feel her warmth through his pajamas. He was so thankful she believed him, wondering if he had really sold himself that genuinely or if she was simply that desperate for a friend right now. He started to return her embrace, but became painfully aware that there were few places he could put his hands that wouldn't be touching bare skin, this though alone making his heart beat start to speed up again, it having finally calmed from the dangers of a few seconds ago. He wondered if she could feel it thudding in his chest where her head lay.

Nicki also seemed to notice her current state and sat up again, cheeks going slightly pink. "I spilled booze on myself at the club," she muttered, tugging at her clothes. "It's all Butch could really find for me to change into with everything else out for dry cleaning." Oswald had no complaints about the clothing but did his best to keep the hungry look out of his eyes, offering her a shy smile instead.

"You look fine." He whispered. She blushed and he suddenly felt his ego swell knowing that he had caused it.

"I-I'm sorry I-" she started, but he held up a hand to stop her.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he smiled a little more confidently. "It's fine," he whispered. "I'm sorry for everything you've been through. And I don't blame you for being skeptical of me."

She smiled a little. "You're the only friend I have right now I think."

"Well I'll be the best friend I can be then." He surprised even himself with this newfound confidence. She offered him a warm smile and was about to respond when a creaking noise caused both of their heads to turn towards the door.

"Oswald?" Mrs. Cobblepots voice came from the other side of the door, and in less than thirty seconds, Nicki was out the window. Oswald watched her dart nimbly across the room and then out and could only blink after her. In less than a minute she was gone and it was like she hadn't even been there.

"Yes Mother?" he resoponded, dazed. Had it been a dream after all?

"Are you talking to someone?"

He touched his neck and felt the small cut where the knife had been. Not a dream. "No mother."

Hey guys! It's been so long! Thank you for reading and Happy October!