A White Umbrella
A Gotham Love Story
By: Ghost-girl-writes
Warning: This story contains graphic sexual scenes and gay relationships.
It was an odd day in Gotham, with a warm, sunlight casting over all the tall standing buildings, even dripping far down enough to touch some of the darkest corners of the city streets. Odd it was indeed, but nonetheless, the city moved on with its life. The poor begged on corners, businessmen making shady deals with people in alleyways, policemen turning a blind eye to a mugging. Though, for a little wandering soul, it was all a bit much to take in. Bright green eyes were just happy that they could see the blue above, dotted with puffy clouds.
A fragile looking figure walked down the street, a slip of yellow lined paper in hand, gently blowing back and forth when the wind swept up. Blue ink was scribbled on it, an address that belonged to the G.C.P.D. Station. The figure wandered closer and closer to his destination and finally was standing out front of the old building. Taking a quick breath, the young male stepped in through the front door, and was nearly hit by a fly away red heel. His head snapped over to the direction it had been tossed from to see a scantily cladded woman in cuffs trying to hit two officers.
The young looking male didn't know whether or not he should go over and give the shoe back to the woman, or if she would just end up trying to throw it again. Silky blonde hair was ruffled by a pale hand as the male continued inside the police station. His eyes glanced around, looking around for his person of interest, which was hard with all the hussle and bussle going around the place. "Who could work peacefully in such a place?" The male whispered to himself, but thought that he could've yelled it out loud and no one would take notice to the boy.
Instead, he turned on his heels and looked for the first officer he could find that wasn't holding down a scary looking individual. "Excuse me ma'am I was wondering-"
"Not now kid I'm busy." Came the quick response.
Taken back a bit, the young male quickly scurried away to the next officer. "Excuse me, sir? I was just wondering if you could help me? I'm looking-"
"Can't you see I'm on a break kid? Scram."
Shot down again. Really, how did anything get done in this place? With no luck finding help, the young male decided to climb the wooden steps to the next level. If he couldn't find help, then maybe he could simply spot the man he was looking for from a higher view. The short male stood there, green fluttering eyes looking back and forth, scanning the huge area below.
Well, this is disappointing...
The young male was just about to give up and call the man with his phone when he noticed a man, off in the corner reading what looked like a file and adjusting his glasses. From the looks of him, he didn't seem like he would bark at him, so he rolled the dice and hoped for a lucky number as he walked over to him.
"Excuse me?"
The male stopped reading and gave the short male standing next to him an odd look.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if you could help me find someone?" He asked.
"Hm, I'm nowhere, but somewhere, except where something is, what am I?" The man spoke, a cheery smile gracing his lips and turned to face the shorter male.
"Is...is that a riddle?"
"Mh-hm."
"Ah..."
"Do you give up?"
"No, no! I got it...nothing, it's nothing, right?" The male asked.
"Correct! Now, who is it you're looking for?" The thin male asked him, tucking the now closed file under his arm.
"Oh, well I'm looking for detective Gordon, have you seen him around?"
"Depends on who's asking?"
A gruff came from behind the males and had the shorter of the two spin quicker than a top and run over to the man. The blonde haired boy hugged him tightly and smiled brightly up at the cleanly shaven man. "Uncle Gordon! I've missed you so much! I'm so happy!" He said, feeling Gordon hug him back he took a step back from him so that they could see each other properly.
"Hey shrimp, how's everything been?"
"Fine, fine, school is good and all." The young male said happily.
"I didn't know you had a nephew?" The man wearing glasses from before said, who now had an interesting look in his eyes as he studied the young male.
"Distance relatives Ed. Ed, this is Atticus, Atticus this is Ed." Gordon introduced the two of them, who then shook hands.
"Pleasure to meet you, Atticus."
"Same to you, but everyone just calls be Atti." Atticus said.
"Noted. Well, files aren't going to read themselves now." Ed said and started down the way towards a metal door.
"Sorry about him, hopefully he didn't scare you with too many riddles." Gordon said as he waved his hand at Atticus to follow him.
"Only one, he's rather good."
"I guess so."
The two reached Gordon's desk and Atticus placed the small, black messenger bag he was holding on the side of the table that was piled high with stacks of paper. To say that the place was a mess, was an understatement. Gordon sat down at the chair and pulled another one up next to him so that Atticus could sit down after such a long walk. "So, how has your mother been doing?" Gordon asked as he pulled a file out from the center of the stack of papers, opening it up.
"As much as I want to say that she's well, she's not." Atticus said, his voice soft.
"Well, it's better for the both of you to rest. She has the hospice nurse to watch over her and I'm here to help you out." Gordon reassured him and ruffled his short, blonde hair.
"Now, you said you wanted to work somewhere while you're staying here. Well, I gathered up some places that were hiring and got some of the applications." He said as he laid the file in front of Atticus to take a look over the files.
"So, what were you thinking of doing?" Gordon asked as he leaned back in his seat, causing it to creak loudly.
"Maybe a waiter at a restaurant, it's what I did back home. Only the restaurants were more like diners. Or maybe a host, or even a dishwasher really, I'll take anything I can get." Atticus said as he sorted through the job applications.
"Come on now, you can cook can't you? Last time I checked you can make anything out of nothing. What about a bakery? Or a café? Plenty of those around here." Gordon said, sitting up in his seat as he watched a man come over to the desk opposite of his.
"Guess so..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the male coming over and taking a seat in the chair and glancing between Atticus and Gordon.
"Don't tell me you picked up another street rat?" The man said as he placed his hat down on the table.
"What-no! This is my nephew, the one I told you about, Atticus." Gordon said, a bit of irritation lining his voice as he spoke.
"My bad, names Harvey." He introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Harvey." Atticus said and smiled softly.
"Well, I'm going to bring Atticus back to my place," Gordon said to Harvey and then started to stand, "you can fill out the papers back home and make yourself something. Hope you don't mind." He added.
"No problem." Atticus said and stood up as well.
The green eyed boy grabbed his bag and slid the file into his bag and zipped it up. He then buttoned up the white shirt he was wearing as they started to walk away.
"See you in an hour Harvey." Gordon called out, only to get a grunting response from the much older man.
The two of them made their way down the stairs and onto the main level, heading towards the front doors. As reached the heavy set doors, the warm and sunny day had suddenly turned into a cold, dark rainy one. Atticus stared up at the sky through the window to the side of the door at the rain pouring down. Gordon pulled out an umbrella from his bag and looked at Atticus to see him doing the same thing.
The older male couldn't help but smile seeing the white umbrella being pulled out and opened. "Come on, it's not a far walk." Gordon said and pulled the door open.
Both of them walked side by side down the rainy street in silence as people ran or walked by them. The sound of the city swirled around them providing enough background noise to last a lifetime or two.
"So, the city is pretty different from the countryside?" Gordon said and moved his umbrella to look down at Atticus.
"To say that is a major understatement." Atticus said, causing the both of the them to smile and laugh a little bit.
"Well, hopefully you get use to it, if you're staying her for a while." He said as they crossed a street.
Atticus hummed softly in response and held his white umbrella close to his chest as the two kept walking and making idle chat. They talked about nothing important, the weather, how things were, some stories about their recent adventures with the world around them. Though, Atticus would have to say that his uncle had more interesting stories than him. The most interesting thing that had happen was that some guy on drugs tried robbing from the library with a shuck of corn. Tales of beating up bad guys on the streets were much more interesting than that.
The two weren't too far from Gordon's apartment when Atticus turned to him to point out a statue near one of the major business building. "How do you think artist even think about making such pretty things? I mean I can't even-"
Atticus was cut off short as he felt his feet trip over something and stumbled forward onto his knees and elbow, his umbrella rolling gently back and forth next to him. The rain washed over him like cold buckets of water and quickly started to stand back up.
"So sorry, didn't mean to knock you over." A voice came from the side of Atticus, who turned to look as he picked his umbrella back up.
A man stood there with a well tailored suit, which looked more expensive that his entire wardrobe. "Oh, no sorry I wasn't paying attention, it's my fault. I'm sorry." Atticus said shyly.
"Really it's...Jim?" The male said and Atticus turned to his uncle to see he had a not so pleasant look on his face.
The air around the three of them suddenly became heavy, and Atticus wasn't to sure as to why, at least not yet. Atticus watched his uncle shove his hand not holding his umbrella into his pocket as he looked over at the strange man.
"Oswald." He said in that gruff, stern voice.
Atticus looked back at the man to see him smiling, staring at his uncle. The blonde didn't even notice the man in a black suit standing behind this Oswald person until he cleared his throat. It made the short male jump a bit, catching Oswald's eye.
"Are you a new intern at the police station?" He asked, placing the cane he used in front of him.
"Yeah, he-"
"Of course not!" Atticus said, laughing slightly. "I'm his nephew! Uncle Gordon is just helping me out at the moment, I couldn't do the kind of work he does."
"Uncle Gordon." Oswald said, poor Atticus was completely oblivious to the suggestive tone in the new male's voice. The male leaned forward ever so slightly, placing both hands on his cane.
Without saying much more, Gordon grabbed Atticus from behind his elbow and started dragging him down the street. It took a while for him to shake him off but when he did they were at the steps of the apartment building.
"What is going on with you? That was kinda rude..."
"Atticus, do me a favor and don't tell people who you don't know that were related." He said, finally letting go of him and walking up the few steps to get into the actual building.
"Okay, I get it. Police officers aren't that well liked in Gotham." The green eyed male said as he closed his umbrella.
Both of them took the elevator to one of the higher floors. "So, is it true about what they say? About how the police is corrupt?" Atticus asked, shattering the silence between them.
It took Gordon a moment to answer before glancing over at his nephew. "Some are, some aren't...other are just caught between a rock and a hard place." He said, just as the elevator dinged and opened them up to a seemingly never ending hallway on each side.
Once they were outside the door, Gordon opened it and stepped aside so that Atticus could enter. "I need to start heading back. I have a spare so take this one. If you want, you can start filling out those applications." Gordon said as he handed Atticus the key.
"Also, ground rules." He said and the blonde nodded his head.
"Your curfew is midnight here, so that means your butt is in this place not a second later."
Another nod of the head.
"Once you find a job, you call me when you're leaving and when you're coming home. Also, like I said before, it's better that people don't know that we're related...it's safer."
"Also, don't take rides from people, or eat or drink anything people randomly hand you. You have to be aware of your surroundings at all times and-"
"Okay, okay, I get it!" Atticus finally blurted out.
"You do realize I'm twenty one right? And not a helpless child," Atticus added and crossed his arms.
"I can handle myself. Don't you have a job to get to?" He said with a cheeky smirk on his face that broke Gordon's stern expression.
"Keep it up and might just lock you up in here." He mocked and left.
Two weeks had passed since coming to Gotham and Atticus found himself sitting on an old park bench, staring down at the file in his lap with disbelief. So far, all the jobs he had gone for had declined him and he couldn't wrap his head around it. He was qualified, and he had all the right paperwork filled out. Atticus wasn't late to any of the interviews and even wore his best dress shirt and pants to the occasion. Yet, it seemed like no one in the city would want to hire him. Atticus looked over to the side where a have eaten glazed donut sat atop a brown paper bag. It was awful, and the young male definitely did not have the stomach to finish it.
What was he suppose to do now? He knew he couldn't hold some office job, definitely not that. Though, he guess working at the police station wouldn't be too bad. He could do coffee runs, wouldn't be too hard since it seemed that there was a coffee shop in every street corner in all of Gotham.
Sighing to himself, Atticus slipped the file back into his bag and tossed the half eaten donut out in a nearby trash can. He pulled his phone out from his pocket to check the time. Nine o'clock. It wasn't that late, and Gordon had called him earlier saying that he would be running late. Something about a problem with the case or what not, he didn't really listen to him. Slipping the device back into his pocket, Atticus walked down the uneven pathway and towards one of the main intersections of Gotham.
At least in the park there wasn't as much noise, which he did miss having his peace and quiet times like back home. Even as far up as Gordon's apartment was from the streets below, it wasn't high enough to escape the night life. As he walked, he passed by one of the bakery shops that was on his list of potential jobs and slowed his pace down to a stop.
It was cute, and small and looked pretty clean. For a moment, he thought he should just save everyone the time and just keep walking if the shop was like the rest of them, but Atticus I didn't want to give up just yet. He turned towards the doors and opened one of them, a tiny bell jingled above him as he entered and saw a person behind the counter. "Excuse me, miss?" He said.
Atticus quickly opened up his slim looking bag to pull out the job application and held it out in front of him. "I heard you guys were looking to hire new employees, I was wondering if you'd give me a shot here?" He asked the woman as she turned around to face him.
She took the paper and looked over it, making Atticus slightly nervous and rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited for the woman to say something. After a few minutes of silence, she looked up and a smile on her face, which gave him a glimmer of hope. "Well you're qualified, I don't see why-" the woman stopped short of her sentence.
The blonde cocked his head to the side and gave the woman a curious look as her eyes wandered to the back door nervously all of a sudden. "I mean, I'm sorry, we've already had all available spots taken." She said with a sad look in her eyes and handed him back his paper.
"Oh-Oh right, right." Atticus said, embarrassed now that he let himself get his hopes up. "Well, thank you for at least looking. Have a nice night." He said and quickly left the warm airy shop and into the chilly Gotham night.
The green eyed male rubbed his arms up and down quickly so that they wouldn't be too cold. He really should've taken his uncle's advice and worn a heavier jacket, rather than some thin, fitted zip up, grey hoodie and some jeans. Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he continued on his way and decided that it would probably be best to just head back to the apartment for the night. The wind picked up and blew stray trash and papers along down the street.
Afterwards, the sky above suddenly lit up with a natural bright light, and I'm the next moments thunder and rain came pouring down from it out of seemingly nowhere. Atticus cursed himself under his breath, since the forecast didn't say any rain for at least a few days. The male scrambled to his bag to get out his umbrella to shield him from the onslaught of water. Holding it close, he picked up his pace and headed in the direction of Gordon's apartment.
Atticus had just crossed a side street when he bumped into someone. "Sorry!" He said quickly, and moved to get out of the person's way.
When the person moved the black umbrella to reveal their face, Atticus raised his eyebrows at the man standing before him.
"Funny, meeting like once again...Atticus was it?" Oswald said as he turned to face the shorter male.
"Ah, yes...yeah." He said, unsure of what to actually do in this situation.
In all honesty, Atticus just wanted to crawl into a warm bed with some dry clothes on. Was that too hard to ask for?
"My name is Oswald Cobblepot. I'm sorry I didn't get to properly introduce myself." He said and held out his hand.
Atticus moved his umbrella from one hand to the other to shake the man's hand. "Yes, mostly about that my un-" Atticus cleared his throat, "Gordon can be a little rude sometimes." He said softly.
"Ah, don't worry about it, him and I are friends after all, so a little rudeness here and there is to be expected by any good company." Oswald said as he studied the boy.
"Friends?' Atticus parroted.
"Yes, I thought he would've told you that?"
"Oh...oh well he has been busy and all." Atticus stuttered, not wanting to sound out of loop or anything.
Oswald straighten his back out a bit at the other's response, a tiny smirk playing at the edge of his lips. "Yes, Gordon is a very busy man, but don't worry your pretty little head over it or anything." He said with a slight laugh.
Atticus smiled softly and nodded his head.
"Now, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't give a ride to my dear best friend's nephew?" Oswald said out loud as he stepped closer, their umbrella on top of one another.
"Oh well, you don't have to really I-"
"Please, I insist! Besides, wouldn't want you to catch a cold or anything out here. That would just put Gordon into such a worried state." He said and took Atticus by the hand and started to pull him gently along the sidewalk before he even knew what was going on.
Before he knew it, Atticus was inside a black, expensive looking four door car, with his umbrella and bag settled beside him. He watched silently as Oswald got into the back and the car started moving down the street.
"Mr. Cobblepot, sir, you really didn't have to drive me home. I mean, I'm sure it's out of your way and all." Atticus rambled on, which caused the black haired male next to him to start smiling at him.
"Please don't worry yourself over something like this, really it's a not a problem. Plus, I think this would be a good opportunity to talk. Maybe get to know one another?" Oswald offered and leaned back in his seat, his hands neatly folded on his lap.
"Oh, right sure."
"Excellent. Tell me, are you liking Gotham?"
"I guess, I much rather be back home in the countryside...where I can hear myself think at night." Atticus sighed.
"Well, if your uncle ever wants to let you off the little leash he has you on, I can drive you up to my place one day. Nice and far from the city, very relaxing."
Both of them went back and forth asking questions and talking. Atticus was actually enjoying himself for once and not completely miserable for a change. In fact, Atticus was enjoying his time with Mr. Cobblepot so much, that he didn't even notice that they had been circling the same route about three times now.
As they talked, Atticus checked his phone and saw that it was nearing eleven and should be getting home soon. Right before he placed his cell phone back in his bag, he saw Oswald take the file he had and opened it up.
"Sir that's-"
"Seems like you've had a hard time landing a job."
"Yeah..."
"Don't sound too upset, I mean if you want, I can most certainly offer you one."
It took all of Atticus's willpower not to want to scream, yes! "Oh well, Mr. Cobblepot-"
"Just call me Oswald."
"Sorry, Oswald, I mean that's very generous of you but I can't-"
"Please, it would really help me a ton. I need someone to come a clean the place outside of town. It's much too big, and well, I'm a rather busy man." Oswald said, eyeing Atticus.
The older male could see the other thinking it over. "I can assure you, the pay will be more than enough than of these other jobs in here." He said and handed the file back to him, to which Atticus put back in his bag.
A moment of silence came over them before Atticus finally cracked. "Alright, I guess I don't see the harm in it." He said, to which he watch Oswald smile happily.
"Good, good, now-" he said and produced a small notepad and pen from his suit's shirt pocket and scribbled something down, tore it off and handed it to Atticus, "my personal cellphone number. Just call when you're on your way over." He said.
The short blonde nodded and tucked it safely into his pocket as the car parked out front of the apartment building.
"Thank you for everything to night Oswald, I really appreciate it. I promise I'll have your home looking shiny and new!" He said as he got out.
"I'm sure you will little Atti." Oswald said after the car door had been closed.
"Does this mean you want us to stop trailing him?" The man driving spoke.
Oswald stayed quiet for a moment as he watched Atticus scurrying into the building before speaking. "No, I want you to keep watch, make sure Uncle Gordon doesn't suspected anything." Oswald ordered.
And with that, the black car pulled down the street.
Atticus knew he was doing something bad the moment he lied to his uncle about having a job at a bakery at the other end of town. He was just thankful that he didn't have to tell him in person, and rather told him on the phone while he was heading downstairs to the car that was awaiting him.
The blonde was greeted by the man drove a few nights before and thanked him as he got in. The drive was silent, mostly and the young twenty one year old boy was in all honesty a bit nervous. He hadn't heard much of Oswald around the streets and didn't know much about him. However, whatever he was thinking about Mr. Cobblepot went out the window when he saw the mansion standing in front of him as the car rolled up to it. It looked a bit old, but if the house was anything like Oswald, the inside would be more than impressive.
Atticus stepped out of the car, a white button shirt on and a pair of black slacks. He definitely didn't look as fancy as Oswald, who was waiting by one of the two front doors. Warm air seeped from the house and was met with a warm smile from Oswald.
"Good morning Atticus."
"Good morning Mr. Cobblepot."
"Please, call me Oswald."
"Right, sorry sir. Ah, call me Atti, most people do."
"Noted." Oswald smiled as he curled a finger, wanting Atticus to follow him.
He did so and the two of them entered a lovely living room. The younger one couldn't help but stare in awe at the things around him, before he noticed Oswald looking at him with an amused expression on his face. He felt his cheek grow a bit warm, having been caught.
"Well, my dear, your job is simple, just do as I say really." Oswald said as he then clapped his hands together and came over to Atticus.
Atticus watched as Oswald brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eye and look down at him before gently cupping one of his cheeks. "You know, the more I look at you, the more I can see you staying here." He said and then walked away.
"Cleaning supplies are in closest. I'll be in my office if you need me." He called behind him, leaving Atticus alone, and a bit confused. Nonetheless he started to clean, wanting to keep his promise to Oswald and have the house looking shiny and new.
Atticus has now been working as a...maid? Right, yes, maid for Oswald for almost three months. It wasn't as bad as it sounded, even if the house was big. Sometimes Oswald would come looking for Atticus and bring him upstairs to help him pick out a suit for an evening event. Or when he was washing the kitchen windows, started up a conversation about sweets and let the young boy talk about how much he loved to cook. He even came up to the house and simply chatted and did nothing much else.
It's wasn't all bad, but it wasn't the perfect job either.
The young blonde told himself that his recently new boss wasn't eyeing him from across rooms, when he worked, or when he had to get on his knees because he had a habit of always knocking over the same damn case of fountains pens when he entered the living room for the thousandth time. At first, Atticus didn't mind the stares, most of the time, he didn't notice. A lot of people stare at a lot of things, so this shouldn't be any different, right? Oswald, however didn't stop at staring.
Oh no.
Who could resist such a little lamb when it practically walked right up to the wolf's front doors? Who could resist temptation as it willingly let its guard down and gave you a sweet smile and asked if you needed anything?
There were many times that Oswald wanted to say exactly what he wanted from the blonde. To tell him to strip himself bare right then and there, or to get on his knees in front of him and begged him with those big green eyes. Maybe he would even demand the boy to bend over the kitchen table and let him have his way, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't want to scare him, not yet anyways.
There were days where Oswald would come into the kitchen to grab a drink and walk up beside Atticus, his hand pressed slightly against his lower back as he opened the upper cabinet and retrieve a glass before leaving. Or when they talked on the couch about little stupid things, his hand would find itself on his knee, some days a little higher. But they were just little touches, a quick stroke or caress, and then gone. Sometimes, Atticus wondered if he was simply imagining the signs that were there, mistake them for him being rather tired...wasn't easy having a job that you didn't want to tell your uncle that you're staying with.
This went on for weeks, and nearly to his surprise, Atticus found himself looking forward to Oswald's light touches. Not that he would voice it. It was comforting to know that someone wanted him there, someone that showed him a bit of attention. It wasn't bad to want a little bit, right?
One stormy day, Atticus was cleaning the floors in the hallway, when his phone started ringing in his pocket. He placed the mop up against the wall as he fished his phone from his pocket, seeing that it was his uncle calling. The green eyed male only panicked for a moment before flipping the phone open and pressing down on the green key.
"Uncle?"
"Atticus? You alright? Where are you?"
"What do you mean? I'm fine." He said, taking note of the slight concerned tone in his uncle's voice.
At that moment, Oswald appeared, coming down from the staircase, eyeing Atticus on the phone.
"Is there something wrong?" He asked, looking at Oswald as he came to halt at the bottom of the stairs.
"Yeah, half of Gotham just lost power...well the half that had it to begin with. A lot of streets have started to close down because of all the flooding. I'm coming to get you, tell where you are?"
Atticus froze for a moment, breaking eye contact from Oswald to the floor for a moment or two.
"I'm actually pretty far away from town. My boss needed me to make a few stops for some urgent deliveries...it looks like the road I took isn't looking too swell." Atticus lied, starting to worry his bottom lip between his teeth.
He was glad that he wasn't talking to him face to face, because by now he knew that it was a sure tell that he was lying.
"I don't think I can make it to you in this weather. At least not anytime soon. Do you think-"
"I have cash on me." Atticus butted in.
"I can probably find a motel nearby to crash for the night. So, you don't have to come get me. I can drive myself back tomorrow." Atticus added.
"Drive?"
"Oh yeah, well, the boss let me borrow the company car for these deliveries. Since, you know, I don't have one of my own."
There was a long pause from the other end of the line, and for a split second, Atticus thought that Gordon might just put a few pieces together and realize that he was lying to him and that happened he might as well-
"Okay."
"Huh?"
"I said okay, it sounds like the best option at this time. Just, make sure you lock all the doors before you go to sleep." He warned.
"Yes, of course. I'll call you in the morning."
Atticus hung up and let out a long, loud sigh. "I don't know how liers do it all the time." He said, sounding nearly exhausted.
He heard Oswald chuckling and looked back over him, seeing him come closer. "I'll say, you made one of G.C.P.D's greatest believe you. You must have a talent for it." He said.
The shorter male smiled and shook his head. "Not really. In person I would've been a pile of goo in his hands." He told him and walked back over to the mop.
"Sorry, I'm almost done with this hallway, I'll be out of your hair soon." He said as he turned back around to see Oswald still standing there.
Atticus gave him a curious look, to which the man smiled.
"And what, pray tell, where you'll be going after you leave me?" He asked.
"Well back home to..."
Ah...right.
"Back to the car...to go find a motel...somewhere?" Atticus was completely unsure of what to do or say at the moment.
"You certainly are one amusing fellow Atti, but you know I can't let you do that." Oswald said and placed a hand on his upper arm.
"I mean, just because Gotham is far say doesn't mean that some disgusting mugger can't come and hurt you."
"Well-"
"Plus, you wouldn't have to waste your money and sleep on some dirty old mattress." Oswald added.
Atticus was quiet for a moment, before letting his shoulders slump and sighed. "You make a good point."
Oswald smiled at the victory and reached for the mop, taking it from Atticus. "Well then, it's getting late already. Why don't you just rest for the rest of the night, hm?" He offered, waiting expectantly for the blonde's answer.
"Right," he said softly and let Oswald take the mop, "it is getting a bit late." He said, blinking up slowly at him.
Oswald just smiled kindly and place his on his shoulder now. "Well, you know where the spare bedroom is. Get washed up and I'll make us something to eat, sound good?"
"I've got something better."
Dark eyebrows stood with a curious look, "And what might that be?" He asked him.
"Ah," Atticus cleared his throat a bit, "I got get changed and I'll make us some dinner, you said you'd let me cook whenever I feel like it and well...I feel like it. Plus, as thanks for letting me stay the night and all." He said softly, quickly looking down afterwards.
Oswald reached forward and tilted Atticus's head upward to face him. "I think that's a very fine idea, Atti. Hurry then...don't keep me waiting." He said quietly, as if he didn't want someone else to hear it, though they were the only two people in the house.
Oh how Oswald was loving life at this moment.
He had a beautiful blonde, natural too, standing in his kitchen making his dinner. Who, was also a naïve little lamb, who'd probably do anything he'd ask him for, with the right choice of words. There, wearing a shirt much too big for him, stood Atticus as he cooked some amazingly tasty sides as the steak cooked. He was humming softly to him himself, and loved the sound of his bare feet padding softly on the hard tile floor.
Oswald waited and watched as Atticus put on some gloves and pulled the hot steak from the oven and placed it gently on the stove.
"Everything's almost ready, just need to let everything cool for a bit and then..."
Atticus's words gradually faded away as he felt the presence of someone behind him. He didn't have to turn of course to know who, but rather was now questioning why.
He felt a hand on the back of his neck that made him jump. Then, a soft pair of lips replaced the finger tips. "Atti," he whispered in his ear, "do you remember what I said the first day you came here?" He asked, already feeling the pale, blonde beauty starting to tremble under him.
"To...to clean..." Came the almost weak sounding response.
"Mh, yes I did say that, but before, do you remember?"
"N-No..."
Oswald's other hand found its place in the warmth of Atti's inner thighs, which felt heavenly. "I said that all you had to do, was what I say. Simple, remember?"
A quick nod of the head.
"Good."
The hand travelled farther up the smooth skin until it was met with th the grasp of another, smaller hand.
"Oswald I-"
"Hands on the counter."
"Os-"
"Hands on the counter. Now."
With no hesitation, Atticus had both hands on the counter, palms down on the cool surface as he felt Oswald's breath tickle his neck.
"Have I ever done anything to hurt you?"
"..."
"Make you wish that you weren't here?"
"..."
"Did it make you happy knowing that you would see me?"
Atticus back stiffen a bit and Oswald chuckled softly.
Bingo.
"When I watch you work, do you know what I'm thinking about?"
Oswald was met with silence. Not such a smart move in this situation.
"You will answer me when I ask you a question, is that clear?"
"Y-y-yes sir."
"Good, now answer."
"I don't know."
Oswald hummed softly, taking his time and letting his hand that wasn't in between Atticus's warm thighs run through his soft, luscious blonde hair. "I think about you, a lot." He said, his voice gentle.
Atticus was about ready to fall apart at the moment. He felt like his knees would buckle together at any moment and he would be a sobbing mess on the floor. Though, he wasn't crying, at least not yet anyways. Atticus didn't want let himself get to him, not like this.
He swallowed thickly as he tried to wrap his mind around the situation but Oswald knew that and didn't feel like letting that happen. "I think about you, in the living room, on your knees for me, with that beautiful smile of yours. I think of myself walking over to you and slowly unzipping my pants, how hard I already am, and how you lean forward and oh so excitedly open your mouth," Oswald's hand reached around and slowly traced a fingertip to trembling lips, "and you suck me off, moaning like a cute little whore. You beg me about much you want it, how much you want me inside of you. I even dream of taking away that innocent air about you, forcefully if I have to, I alway like a challenge." He said, letting his fingertips drag slowly down Atticus's neck.
"I wonder, what sounds you make when you touch yourself. How hot," Atticus felt Oswald's hand grab his ass, earning a surprised gasp, "and tight you are around me...and you just spread your legs like a good little boy for me."
Atticus felt like he couldn't breathe. There was no air in the room that could into his lungs and help him breathe. At the moment he was happy his arms were now against the cold counter top because that was the only thing that was keeping him upright at the moment.
Oswald pulled away from Atticus, watching his tiny frame tremble like a leaf in the wind. He sighed loudly, "I think the steak has cooled off enough by now don't you think, Atti? I honestly can't wait to dig in. Always loved home cooked meals." He chimed as he headed back to his seat.
The dark haired male settled himself and watched as Atticus trembled in the same spot he left him in, greatly amused. "You know, I don't think that steak is going to cut itself." He mused, seeing how Atticus then stand up straight and rummage around a bit to kind something to cut the meat with.
Moments later a neatly, almost professional looking, plate of food was placed down in front of him by a very shaky hand. Oswald thanked Atticus who simply nodded his head and went to the opposite head of the table and sat himself down with his own plate.
Atticus's mind felt fried, unable to truly grasp what kind of situation he was in. He was alone, trapped in a house where his boss had just assaulted him, no way of getting home, and on top of it his uncle didn't even know where he truly was. The blonde wasn't stupid, at least not really stupid. He was scared and kept telling himself to calm down as he reached for a fork and knife.
"Oh, you know, I've always wanted a housewife of sorts. Since I am a busy man, and my mother isn't as young as she use to be." Oswald said as he cut a piece of steak off.
"I'm...but I'm a man..." Came the whispered response.
Oswald stopped for a second and looked at Atticus, who then immediately looked down and whispered a soft, sorry to the man.
The rest of dinner was rather quiet.
Atticus was a good boy and took both plates and started to clean them off. He heard Oswald get up and quickly turned around to see the man smiling. "After your done here, come to my office." He said, "And bring a nice wine with glasses Atti. I think it'd be the perfect chance for us to talk for a bit don't you think?"
Atticus nodded his head quickly.
"Good, and make sure it's just the wine bottle and glasses you bring to the room. I don't want you getting any ideas." He said, giving the boy a once over, "I would hate to see something happen to that pretty face of yours, plus, Uncle Gordon would be so, so worried about his little nephew, right?"
"R-Right."
Oswald hummed in approval, and left the kitchen to go to his study, and Atticus tried not to crumbled up in a ball on the floor and start crying.
A few minutes after Oswald had closed the study door, a small knock came from it, signaling Atticus's arrival.
"It's open."
The door creaked as it was pushed open and revealed the green eyed boy, with a tray that held an expensive wine, and two glasses for each of them. He placed the tray on the wooden coffee table and stood up, waiting for the other to say something, but the room was silent for what seemed like forever.
"Well, go on, pour us a glass." He said, an amused tone in his voice as he watched Atticus quickly pour the red liquid.
Eventually, they both found themselves sitting on the couch, a wine glass in hand and looking at each other. Atticus knew that Oswald was toying with him, but that didn't mean he still wasn't afraid. He watched as Oswald took a sip from the glass and did the same as he looked away. The blonde hated the taste and tried his best not to show his unpleasant expression.
"I take it you don't drink much?"
"Not a drop."
"I see..."
His voice wandered off, which cause Atticus to look at him. He was just lounging there, glass in hand. The other looked so relax, if it wasn't for the intense stare his eyes were giving him. The younger of the two stayed quiet and didn't move as the couch shifted and Oswald moved closer to Atticus. His hand snaked around and took the glass that Atticus hand in his hand and place it on the table along with his.
Atticus felt a hand on his thigh and immediately wanted to push the male away, but for all he knew, Oswald probably had a gun hidden somewhere close and wasn't afraid to use it on him.
He felt the hand slowly massage his muscles, while the other one came to grab the back of his neck, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. "I must say Atti, you're really good at following orders." He said.
"Thank you."
"I have one for you now." Oswald said and glanced down at his thighs for a moment.
"You're going to take off your underwear for me, right now." He demanded.
And at that moment, the first tears swelled up in his eyes and fell over. With trembling hands Atticus reached down to tug his underwear off, trying not to sniffle so loudly and immediately tugged the shirt down to cover himself from Oswald's gaze.
"Remove your hand."
Slowly his hands came away from the shirt and heard Oswald chuckling happily. "Good boy." He said, leaning forward to press a kiss against his temple.
"Don't be scared, you know I'll take good care of you." He whispered in his ear, which he then licked.
The warm tongue felt strange against his ear and wanted to pull away, but stood still. However, Atticus didn't stay that way long as a hand traveled up his thigh and started touching his penis. He tried yanking Oswald's hand away and turned to look at the man, tears in his eyes.
"P-Please Oswald, please I beg of you. Please stop this." Atticus pleaded, his voice wavering. "I don't know what I did to upset you, but I promise I'll make-"
"Who said anything about me being upset?"
"But I thought-"
"Oh no, my dear, I'm very, very happy actually."
Atticus felt an overwhelming sense of doom at those words.
"Now, you're going to be my good little boy and not struggle and fight me, hm? Because, I would hate to bruise those pretty wrists of yours, but compromises must be made." Oswald sighed.
Atticus didn't know what to say to that, nor did he have nothing to say as Oswald pushed him on his back. He heard the male chuckling as he loomed over him. "Ah, I've waited for this for a long time." He said.
"Do you know how hard it is for me to hold myself back from fucking you, every time you walk through those doors?" Oswald added to which Atticus shook his head.
"Very hard, but," he said, hiking the shirt up to expose his lower parts, "I was a very patient, gentleman, and waited a time before claiming what is mine." He whispered as his hand was back down and playing with him.
Atticus let out a sharp cry, his chest rising and falling rapidly at the thought of what Oswald was going to do to him.
He felt the shirt move even farther up his body to reveal more of his skin. His hips, then his flat stomach, followed by his chest and the stopped. The room was a bit chilly and noticed how Oswald was looking down at the newly exposed area of his body. Atticus could see his mind working and before he could even think of saying something to him, his lips and teeth were on his neck and didn't want to let go any time soon.
Atticus whined loudly as the soft, pale skin was no doubt turning a bright red from all the teeth marks and hickeys. His hands flew to Oswald's shoulders, but made sure not to push the other away, God forbid the consequences that would follow if he did that. Oswald didn't seem to mind his hands on his shoulders as his mouth traveled downwards towards his chest and let his breath ghost over a pert nipple. He knew what was going to happen, but it still didn't prepare him for the mouth that sucked and bit at the skin.
He was squirming under him, tiny noises escaping his mouth when he sucked or bit too hard at the skin. More tears fell down the male's cheeks as more marks appeared on his skin. "Please..." He whispered softly that he didn't even think Oswald could hear him, but the man on top did stop for a moment to look at Atticus when he spoke.
"Please what?" He asked.
"Please, l-let me go...you said-you said you wouldn't do anything to h-hurt me and-and..." Atticus's words trailed off as he removed his hands from Oswald's shoulders and moved them to cover his face.
Oswald heard the sobbing and almost laughed, almost. He reached forward and pinned his wrist beside the blonde's head.
"But I won't hurt you Atti, only if you struggle, because trust me, it's going to hurt way more than you think if you try and leave me now." He told him.
At this point Atticus didn't care if Oswald saw him cry, he was scared, beyond scared. He felt vulnerable, weak, helpless. Nothing could possibly make him feel worse.
His thoughts were interrupted when he felt Oswald's hand reach and grab his knees, pushing them to his sides so that he could see everything.
Atticus closed his eyes and knew exactly where Oswald's gaze and made his cheeks flare up with color. "For a country bumpkin, you're practically bare down here." He said and moved his hand to stroke the base of his cock.
The blonde covered his face with his hands and sobbed into them, the pleasure was nice, having a hand other than his own on him, but not like this, never like this. He could feel his hand slowly stroke him up and down as more sobs escaped his lips.
"Oh, Atti, you're being such a good boy."
Oswald was met with a stuttering mess of a response and smiled. His hand that was stroking the younger male pulled away and instead moved further down, rubbing two fingers against his entrance. He liked watching the boy turn into a puddle under him as he realized what was about to happen.
Before Atticus could do anything, he felt his fingers inside him.
He let out a pitched wail as they started moving, in and out, in and out. The blonde could feel his fingers opening him up, spreading apart making him curl his toes on the couch. Oswald's lips kissed his neck and shoulder as he pumped his fingers slowly, savoring the sweet, broken cries for mercy.
Once the black haired male had deemed Atticus ready enough, he leaned back and unzipped his pants. The sound of the zipper being pulled made Atticus panic, thrashing his legs around, which ended up with the back of Oswald's hand to these ft skin of the green eyed male's cheek.
Stunned, Oswald used the few moments of confusion to yank his pants down to his knees and rub the tip of his leaking dick to Atticus's hole and slowly pressed the tip in.
"Oh god please don't! I swear I'll do anything please! Please!"
Atticus's pleas fell on deaf ears as Oswald pushed all the way inside of him. He felt like he was being torn in two and die right then and there. It hurt so much that he could barely make a noise and his whole body shook under the man on top. He gasped and had his hands fly towards his arms and squeeze them as Oswald settled himself inside of him. The dark haired man hummed approvingly after a moment.
"I was right," he said, slowly pulling his hips back, "you really are hot and tight inside."
His hips thrusted forward and started with a slow pace. Atticus felt him moving inside and nearly vomited at the feeling. He was a mess and that was exactly what Oswald wanted, a sad, broken, little toy who was too scared to stand up for himself.
Gradually, he felt Oswald move his hips faster, grinding up against him and fucking him into the couch. Seeing him staring down at him, smirking as his vision blurred with tears he thought that he should just die.
"Please-"
"Shhh..." Oswald cooed into Atticus's ear, "Just stay like that for me." He whispered.
Atticus's lips trembled and gasped as he kept thrusting into him. He felt him thorn inside him and begged him to pull out. Once again his calls were useless as Oswald's hips snapped forward and spilt himself inside of the much younger male. Even after he was done, the older male stayed inside of him for a few more moments before pulling out slowly.
Oswald could see thin streaks of blood staining Atticus's pale, inner thighs. He chuckled softly and watched as Atticus curl up in ball.
Yes. This will be fun.
Atticus walked down the rainy streets of Gotham alone. The moment he knew for sure Oswald was asleep, he changed back into his old clothes and left the mansion. He'd been walking all night, and it was now early morning. Not even some of the birds were up at this hour. He didn't know how long he was walking for, or how many miles it took him to finally reach the city, all he knew was that he'd never been happier to see the glum, grey city. On top of all of that, his hips killed him and he was beyond exhausted. Eyes bloodshot, with dark circles, his hands clutching his white umbrella as he continued walking slowly towards his uncle's place. At this point he didn't care if his uncle was home and asked him a million questions. He just wanted to go to bed and finally rest.
Eventually, the short blonde made it to the elevator in the building and pressed the floor number. As the elevator ascended, Atticus put the umbrella away into his bag and rummaged around for his keys. The elevator dinged and he stepped out of the machine and walked towards the room number, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
The place was dark and quiet. Slowly he closed the door as he tossed his keys onto the side table and took off his shoes. "Uncle Gordon?" He called softly into the darkness, his voice hoarse.
Getting no answer, he assumed he was already at work. Atticus went to his room and placed his bag down next to his bed and then lowered his aching body down on the soft surface. It felt nice, and warm too, better than any bed he's ever slept on.
The bed was so comfortable, in fact, that he fell asleep, only to be woken up by someone shaking his arm. The male jumped and eyes flew open, to see his uncle standing there with a coffee in his hands. "Easy there, you alright? You don't look so good." He said.
"Not feeling so good either."
"Did you find a place to sleep last night? You aren't hurt are you?"
"...yeah I did. Bed wasn't too great or anything and the TV didn't work." He said softly, but his uncle noticed the strain in his voice.
It was then he noticed the wet clothes he had on and the bottom of his pants were muddy and torn a bit. "You're going to feel even worse if you don't get those clothes off here." He said, reaching for Atticus's shirt to help him take it off.
However, Gordon's hand was met with a harsh slap, and Atticus quickly moving away from him. This also didn't go unnoticed.
Gordon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed his coffee, and small stack of mail he hadn't noticed before on the bedside table. "Is there something you want to tell me?" He asked him as he looked over at his nephew.
"Nothing particularly..."
"You know I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong."
"Normally when people lie, they put a little effort into it." Gordon said, still looking at Atticus.
"I just need some rest." He said softly, making his uncle sigh and look away.
"Alright." He said as he stood up and grabbed his coffee, "but when come back tonight, you're telling me what's wrong." He said and gave him nephew one last, concerned look before walking out of the door.
Once the door was closed he sighed with relief. He then leaned over and checked the mail. Most junk, but he found a blank letter with just the address on the corner of it. He thought about simply leaving it there but wondered what the content inside was, so he started opening it, he got up slowly from the bed and walked over to the connecting bathroom and closed the door.
Turning the shower head onto a warm setting, he started to take his shirt off, he needed a shower before he slept the day away. Atticus laid it down on the counter and caught his reflection in the mirror. Dozens of angry red bite marks littered his torso and neck. The sight made him nauseous and quickly looked away from the startling image.
Instead, he picked up the letter and opened it up. He pulled out about a dozen photos, all of the same woman. At first, Atticus thought he was seeing things, that his tired eyes were playing tricks on him, but when he looked again closely, there was no doubt in his mind about who it was in the pictures.
His mother.
His poor, sick, sweet mother. She was just sitting on the porch, alone in one of her sun dresses looking out into the open. Another one of her from outside as she washed dishes, a third one of her and the hospice nurse checking up in her. Atticus covered his mouth with one hand as he saw the final picture of his mother, sleeping peacefully in her bed.
The photos fell to the floor and Atticus sobbed loudly, just as the bathroom door opened.
"Hey Atti, here's a towel..." His uncle's voice entered the slowly steaming room.
Atticus turned around and saw the horrified look on his face. He didn't blame him, he must look terrible. "Jesus Christ Atti..." He said, dropping the towel and going over to him.
He placed his hands on his shaking shoulders and looked down at him. "Who did this?"
"..."
"Atticus, who did this to you?"
"I can't!"
"You can't what?"
"I promised! I promised..."
"Atticus, what did you promise?"
"...that I'd be a good boy..."
Gordon stood in silence before bringing Atticus into his chest and held him tightly. He glanced down to see the scattered photographs and held his nephew tighter.
"Shh, it's okay now." He hushed him as he started crying, "Atticus, you have to tell me who did this." He explained and looked down at him.
Atticus looked up and blinked slowly as tears came down his face. "I...he-" Atticus hiccuped softly as he tried speaking and then pursed his lips together.
Suddenly, Gordon's hands were back in Atticus's arms and looking at him straight in the eye. "Have you spoken to the man we met on your first day here? Do you remember him?" He asked.
"Os-Oswald he..."
"That son of a bitch."
"He.."
"He's not getting away with this."
To be continued...maybe?