Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

High Society

“Good evening Ms. Vreeland, I couldn’t help but notice you were in attendance to tonight’s gala. I’m-”

She turns around, seemingly only having just noticed him and shrieks, “My word! What sort of attire is that? Absolutely dreadful, cheap, tasteless! And...and that strange hair! You look like a vagabond off of the street! And that nose! Oh! You simply must have it done, this instant!”

Oswald, in absolute shock, slowly begins backing off, “Oh...my apologizes Ms. Vreeland, I, I didn’t mean to offend-”

He backs up one step too far and bumps into a server carrying cherry martinis, the tray falling out of his hand and dumping all of its contents onto Oswald. The red drinks soak his hair and suit, leaving him dripping wet in the middle of the gallery. The people around him fall silent and slowly but surely, an uproarious laughter bursts out among the crowd. People point and laugh, and Oswald, now more paralyzed than ever, shakingly moves his black bangs out of his face to witness the laughingstock he’s become.

I rush to him, pushing through the small crowd that was beginning to encompass him. Not knowing what else to do, I grab him by the wrist and head straight for the exit, shoving people out of the way as I navigate through the crowd. A large man holding a martini glass of his own, stands particularly in the way of the door.

“What a funny little Penguin man!” he roars, seeing the whole thing as a simple joke.

“Move!” I shout, throwing my hands forward, the force becoming more of a punch than a push.

I hit him a little harder than I’d expected, throwing him against the wall, his drink shattering as he hits the floor. Opps. The laughter growing louder from my own faux pas, and wanting to escape my own embarrassment, I lead Oswald out of the art gallery and into the street.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, right?” I ask him sternly, checking to make sure no glass had cut him anywhere.

He shakes his head furiously, cherry martini flicking out of his hair and lightly splashing me.

“Good, we’re going home,” I declare, before pulling him down the street.

As we pass the wide glass windows of the art gallery, I notice Barbara's worried stare as she watches us practically run out into the streets. She's worried yes, but not enough to have done anything about it.

We’re two blocks away from the art gallery when Oswald finally speaks, “I...I’ve failed.”

I turn around, “What are you talking about? If anything it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have dared you to go talk to that vicious vixen Veronica Vreeland.”

Wow, alliteration. I didn’t mean to do that, but it just seemed like the right words to describe her.

He laughs, but it doesn’t hide the fact that he’s on the verge of tears, “They laughed...they always laugh...am I...am I really that big of a joke?”

I shake my head, “Oswald, they don’t laugh at you because you’re a joke. They laughed because...well…” honestly, I can’t think of a way to describe it without somehow offending Oswald. They were laughing at him, even if they didn't mean to be cruel.

He stops me in my tracks, grabbing me firmly by the shoulders, "Admit it, you're just like them. You, you belittle me, you think less of me...to you, I'm a failure."

I sigh heavily, before taking a step towards Oswald and pulling him into a hug. He’s positively sticky everywhere, but that becomes the least of my concerns as he buries his head into my neck and shoulder and starts quietly sobbing. I smooth his back with my hand as he pulls me close, trying my best to comfort him. For a couple of minutes, we stand in the relative silence of the evening, with only the pale Gotham moon to illuminate the darkness.

Somewhere a church bell gives a low chime, signalling midnight. Oswald sniffs back the last of his tears, and I reach up, wiping a stray tear from his cheek.

“Listen, the chimes of midnight…” I whisper softly, although there’s no one else around to hear us, “you know what that means?”

He smiles and nods, before I pull back slightly, offering my hand to him. He excitedly grabs it, yanking me through the Gotham streets, racing home, laughing as we go.

   “Is this going to become a normal thing? Taking baths together?” I ask him, turning off the water on the tub.

He shrugs, the water barely going past his shoulders, an innocent look on his face, “I wouldn’t mind if it did.”

“Well, I’m not getting in the tub with you this time,” I tell him, noticing the opaque water turning a slightly reddish color from the cherry martinis spilled on him. If I thought bathing with him was unsanitary before...

He peers out from the tub as I dump his suit into a nearby pile of dirty clothes, “...please?”

I turn around to see that he’s staring at me with a puppy-eyed look, pursing his lips, and cocking his head sideways. I roll my eyes, after what he’s been through tonight, it’s rather hard to say no to him, “Fine.”

I unzip my dress from the back and pull the entire thing over my head in one fell swoop. Oswald’s eyes widen and he bites his lip, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.

“Do you mind?”

He opens his mouth, but it takes a few extra seconds before he can respond, “No, no I don’t mind.”

I roll my eyes once more as I throw off my undergarments and march over to the tub, stepping in one foot at a time. I slide to the bottom, the water just grazing the tip of my chin. Oswald reaches over and gently grabs my arm, leading me to his side of the tub. He turns me around and rests my back against his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“You’re not going to try to drown me again, right?” I ask, leaning my head slightly to face him.

He chuckles, playfully massaging my shoulders, “Stay with me, and your safety is assured.”

Oswald leans back slightly, adjusting himself so that I’m sitting directly on his lap...and something else.

“They’re idiots, all of them,” he grumbles, “I’m just as intelligent as any one of them, and what do they do? They mock me...humiliate me…”

He runs his hand through my hair, clawing it with his fingers until his arm disappears back into the waters, “But I’ll show them, I deserve to be among them-...no, above them. They’ll see, I’m going to become a man of importance in this town. Veronica Vreeland will beg just to grovel at my feet.”

He pauses, both of his hands on my shoulders, before tilting his head down, close enough so that his breath heavy on my cheeks, “Thank you, for being there for me tonight.”

We lean in and kiss, his arms moving to my hips below the water. I press against him, pushing his back against the tub as I grind against his chest. We let go, both smiling at each other.

“Alright, that’s enough bath time,” I lift myself out of the tub, “I’ll get another one of your suits from the-”

Oswald leans back into the tub, his eyes leering and his jaw shifting from side to side, “No...no, you misunderstand…”

As I wrap a towel around my body to conceal myself, I slowly turn around, my heart racing both in fear, and anticipation.

His arms splayed on both sides of the tub, his tilts his head up, licking his lips, “We won’t be needing anymore clothes tonight.”