Chapter Text
When Valerie’s boss had sent her to the press conference held by Mayor James that morning, the young journalist thought she would have a rather dull day. Instead, she was currently recording Oswald Cobblepot’s announcement of candidacy to become Gotham’s next mayor. How intriguing, someone was finally challenging that old, corrupt worm’s tyranny. Even though that someone was an infamous crimelord...
The gangster had just finished his speech, basking in the cheers and applause of his supporters. With a curt nod and satisfied smile, he left the podium. Valerie quickly snapped a few pictures of the crowd, and tried to get through the masses, in order to take a few close-ups of Oswald, and if possible, ask him a couple of questions as well. By the time she got through, though, the gangster had disappeared, but Valerie thought she’d seen a coat tail just flash behind the corner.
As she got closer, she was sure she was on the right track, the wind carrying some voices. It looked like part of the gathering had moved to this side of the building. She scanned the area until her eyes were caught by a silver glint - the metal head of Mr. Cobblepot’s cane reflecting the sunshine. Valerie was about to approach him when she noticed Cobblepot’s conversation partner. It was the recently reinstated Detective James Gordon, whom she’d had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting when they had both hunted Arkham escapees.
The two talking struck her as an odd happening, but even odder was their closeness: Gordon was towering over Cobblepot, very much in the gangster’s personal space. Even though Valerie tried to eavesdrop, the two must have been whispering, for she couldn’t make out a single word. However, even a blind man could see that their conversation was heated, but not in an inimical way, as one would expect. It was tense, charged with electricity, and Valerie automatically brought her camera to her eye, zooming in and taking a few pictures.
Just then, Detective Gordon raised his right hand, and it looked like he was either about to punch Cobblepot or drag the mobster against him. However, his hand stopped mid-air, as if he’d suddenly remembered that they were in public, and with a last glare left the place. Mr. Cobblepot was standing there, still slightly leaning forward, his eyes burning with a ferocity that honestly scared Valerie a bit.
Soon, Cobblepot left as well, but the journalist didn’t mind that she didn’t get to ask her questions. Her photographs were so much better than anything she had hoped for. She was already writing the article in her head; she thought these pictures and new piece of information would serve as a bomb ending to her article about the gangster’s surprise announcement.
“Perhaps even more surprisingly, Mr. Cobblepot was seen in a very intimate position with Detective Gordon... does this mean the GCPD supports him?”
“Bullock… Gordon… My office! Now !” The Captain barked, voice carrying through the entire precinct.
Jim had been expecting this, anticipating the Captain’s negative reaction since this morning after reading the newspaper over breakfast at his apartment. His little argument with Cobblepot had been front page news ‒ he wondered when the news had stopped reporting and become so trivial ‒ only it hadn’t appeared as an argument, instead it had come across more like lovers having a tête-ȧ-tête. When he first arrived at the precinct, he thought that he was in the clear since other than a couple of looks, the article went unmentioned by everyone other than Harvey, of course. That maybe, just maybe, the Captain would miss the latest edition of the Gotham Gazette.
But this was Gotham, there was no such thing as catching a break.
“Sounds like the Captain doesn’t approve of your… what did they call if? Oh, right, intimate moment with Penguin.”
Red-faced, Jim threw his partner a glare, but Harvey just grinned at him, enjoying this far too much. The distance to the Captain’s office was a short one, but with the weight of the stares digging in his back from the other officers, it felt like eternity as he walked to what Jim could only describe as his own execution.
He couldn’t get fired over a fallacious article… right?
The Captain had his chair turned to the side, not looking at the two figures entering his office. Jim wondered whether the Captain did this on purpose, because the next words coming out of his mouth were done so as he spinned around to face Jim directly.
“Do you know what I dislike, detective?”
Jim wasn’t expecting this question, didn’t quite know how to answer, opened his mouth, but thought better and kept it shut firmly.
“Interruptions.” The Captain told him, pointing to the untouched coffee and a small breakfast bagel with a chunk missing from it, set aside on his desk, “especially during my meal time.”
“Every morning I have five minutes to myself, to sit down right here and eat breakfast. Do you know why I do this?”
“Because you’re a workaholic?” Harvey supplied.
“ Because I’m always here, right in this office, doing my best to protect Gotham and her streets. I don’t have time to go home.”
Jim thought that this was bit of an exaggeration, but wisely kept this to himself.
“So imagine my dismay when I sat down to eat my bagel, and twenty-three different reporters call, asking me if the GCPD is backing Oswald Cobblepot’s decision of running for Mayor?!”
Each word the Captain spoke, his voice grew louder and louder, until he was shouting the last part of that sentence.
“I can explain, sir… It’s not what it looks like-” Jim tried.
The Captain jabbed a finger in Jim’s direction, “What it looks like is that the GCPD is flirting with a known criminal. I know you and Cobblepot have history.”
“We don’t.”
Harvey coughed, making it very loud and clear that he disagreed with this statement. “For the record, might I just add that I knew this was going to happen, I knew that snitch would be causing Jimbo, here, trouble.”
This only fueled Barnes’s suspicions, “How long has this… been going on?”
“There is nothing going on between Cobblepot and me!” Jim could feel heat rushing back to his face, he never thought he would need to utter such a statement.
It was clear that Barnes didn’t believe him, not for a second, and proceeded to lecture him on how his actions and associations reflect on the precinct.
There was nothing Jim could do, other than take the spittles flying and nearly hitting his face as the Captain chewed him out. A rant mixed between GCPD’s reputation and something about bagels thrown in there as well.
Finally, Jim saw the end to his long-winded speech as Barnes gave one last reproachful look and ordered Jim to ‘fix this immediately’.
“I’ll take care of it, Sir.” Jim promised, not quite sure how he’d fulfill said promise. Right before he left, he added, “Enjoy your breakfast, sir.” He ducked right in time, narrowly missing the newspaper being tossed at him.
There was only one person who could fix this, much to Jim’s chagrin. The one person who started this mess in the first place. Jim didn’t like it, but was forced to admit that Oswald had some sway with the people. This entire mess could be righted with one word from the new candidate, clearing up any misconceptions about where the GCPD’s loyalties lay, along with Gordon’s.
He arrived at Oswald’s mansion that night, slamming his car door with all the anger he could muster. He had to be as stern as possible when facing Cobblepot, to let him know that this was not a joke. Jim was instantly led to the living room, where the gangster was having dinner.
His eyes lit up, and he gingerly patted his mouth with a napkin, gripping the table as the detective entered. “Jim! What a surprise! Come and have dinner with me! Gabe, bring a plate for the detective.”
“Not necessary, I won’t stay long,” Jim grumbled, not even taking the seat Oswald had pointed at. “I came to ask you to have that shameless article in the Gotham Gazette retracted. Or at least the part about me and the GCPD. I don’t support you in your candidacy.”
“Yes, you made that perfectly clear yesterday,” Oswald said, cutting his steak with more vigor than necessary. “As for the article, don’t worry about it, Jim. It’s not even worth mentioning.”
Jim exhaled with relief. “You’ll have it retracted then?”
“No, Jim. The best course of action is not to react to it. You’ll see, no one will pay attention to it. Things are changing, there’s always something else in the news. People forget.”
Jim didn’t looked convinced, so the gangster added: “Trust me on this one, Jim. Just ignore it.”
The detective closed his eyes for a moment, and looked away from Oswald’s distractingly green eyes. “Fine. But if there’s one more article like that… ”
“Have no worries, I’m sure Ms. Vale has better things to write about than our ‘intimate position’,” Oswald rolled his eyes as he made the air quotes, but Jim thought there was also a glimpse of smugness. “It must have been a slow news day.”
He didn’t have the energy to argue that Oswald’s candidacy was anything but a slow news day. Jim left quickly, refusing Oswald’s offer to drink something. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t see the glint of a lens, or hear the fast clicks of a camera.
That night Jim fell asleep with ease, convinced that he had overcome a ridiculous hitch. He didn’t know the printers were working fervently to have the new front page of the Gotham Gazette reprinted with surprising pictures.
The next evening, Oswald was sitting in the darkest booth of Raul’s Bar or whatever the place was called. Naturally, this wasn’t the type of place he frequented, but a certain detective had called him to meet in a very discreet location. Apparently, the mansion wasn’t safe anymore, not with lurking paparazzi around.
“Detective James Gordon had once been engaged with Barbara Kean, former wealthy socialite and patient at Arkham Asylum. The similarities between his old flame and alleged current lover begs the question if Detective Gordon has a certain type: rich dangerous ex-criminals.”
Oswald had been distracted, examining the not too impressive state of the bar he had been summoned to, to hear the bell at the door chimed, following the angry footfalls of one James Gordon.
A loud bang of a fist slamming down on the table in front of Oswald shook the salt shakers. Underneath the hand splayed was the latest Gotham Gazette, headline reading in bold letters: “MYSTERIOUS VISITOR - DET. GORDON SEEN LEAVING COBBLEPOT'S MANSION” with a clear as day photo of Jim leaving Oswald’s manor from the night before.
Oswald’s gaze followed up the leather jacket-clad arm to the furious expression the detective was sporting, furrowed brows and that one loose strand of hair escaping and falling across Jim’s wrinkled forehead. Oswald always had the urge to lean forward and brush it back. He squeezed his hand tight into a fist, ignoring it.
“Detective! How nice it is of you to show up! You know, when you called and asked me to come here… this wasn’t exactly the place I had in mind,” Oswald said with a hint of amusement dancing behind his eyes.
Jim ignored him. “Did you see this?”
Oswald glanced down at the article between them, tilting his head as he studied the picture. “You’re a very photogenic man, detective. I must applaud the photographer, getting such a nice shot, especially in the middle of the evening ‒ an impressive feat.”
The detective slid his eyes shut, gritted out, “Did you read the article?”
“I did.” Oswald leaned back in his seat. “I particularly enjoyed the subtle implication of you being a gold digger. Vale certainly has spirit.”
Jim turned bright red at that. His embarrassment quickly transformed into anger. Oswald’s insouciant reaction towards the articles vexed him, dissolving whatever attempt at diplomacy Jim was trying to maintain with the gangster.
“You told me that I should trust you.” Jim spitted the word out like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Of course, I should know better than to believe you. I told you! Had you just gone and had the article retracted like I asked-”
“I was under the impression that discretion was the intention of this little meeting; screaming at me in public, however, proves otherwise. Do sit down, detective, making a scene will only cause more attention.”
Jim quieted immediately after that, scowling more at the gangster for having a valid point, and slid into the seat across from Oswald. He watched with growing amusement as the detective glanced around, looking for any signs of cameras.
“Relax, Jim. I doubt anyone would ever consider this as a spot where my lover and I would dine at.”
Jim flushed again at his words, more so with how teasing and unbothered the mobster seemed. “Why aren’t you more worried about this?”
The first time Oswald had seen the article, he was concerned with the public’s reaction, how it might affect their vote. However, his worries were unfounded, the articles had no negative impact on the public support.
“It hasn’t damaged the campaign in any way. There’s no need getting upset over mere rumors.” Oswald shrugged.
“It doesn’t reflect badly on you , but on me…” Jim growled, and rubbed his face as he leaned forward. That was when he noticed a big, bald guy staring at him from the bar, who quickly looked away when he realized Jim was aware of his stare.
“Oswald. At three o’clock, bald guy with tattoos. Does he seem suspicious to you?” Jim asked with apprehension.
The gangster turned discreetly, his mouth twitching when he noticed one of the tattoos of the man. “No, Jim, he… I think he was just checking you out. But if you’re feeling so on edge, you should have put on a disguise,” Oswald added with a grin.
“Oh, fuck. You’re right.”
“Maybe try growing a mustache for our next meeting.”
It was only then that Jim noticed Oswald’s tongue-in-cheek tone, and he got up instantly, his eyes flashing with anger. “There will be no next meeting, Cobblepot .”
Oswald snickered as he watched the retreating detective, rolling up the newspaper he left behind and putting it away in an inner pocket of his coat.
Fortunately, Jim didn’t get to see Oswald for weeks after their secret meeting. He was busy with police work, Gotham’s criminals never sleeping, while Oswald was heavily campaigning. The detective heard about Oswald winning by a landslide while he and Harvey were driving back to the station after they managed to catch two Arkham escapees.
“So, your boyfriend won,” Harvey said with a grin, clearly enjoying his partner’s annoyance. “Exciting times ahead.”
Jim grunted, not rising to the bait. Even though most of his colleagues forgot about Valerie’s insolent articles, Harvey was still teasing him about them. He was exhausted, he’d worked overtime way too much in the past weeks. For the first time in forever, Jim was glad for the days off the Captain had promised him.
Surprisingly, Jim managed to sleep seven hours without the interruption of nightmares or phone calls from the GCPD. He decided to clean his apartment of empty bottles and takeout boxes, and made the place look more presentable. He even made a trip to the supermarket, and bought actual food, intent on proving himself that he got everything under control. His life was great, he cleaned, he was going to make an awesome meal, in short, he was a proper adult. He got this.
Jim was cutting a red chili when his phone rang, cursing as he hurried to the living room.
“Gordon.”
“Detective. Mayor Cobblepot has requested a police escort for his inauguration. Well, specifically you,” the officer said, amusement clearly coloring her voice. “His car will be there in thirty minutes.”
“What?!” Jim exclaimed. “No one told me anything about this. It’s my day off!”
“Sorry.”
“Fuck!”
Jim threw his phone on the table, and kicked his sofa. What did Cobblepot think to just summon him, as if he were his underling?! What kind of game was he playing? He understood the need for a police escort since unexpected things could happen, but why did Oswald insist on his presence? Jim rubbed his eyes vigorously.
Oh.
Oh shit.
Oh fucking hell.
The detective ran to the bathroom, while he tried not to scream too loudly as his left eye felt like it caught on fire. How could he be so dumb as to rub the chili in his eye?! He tried to wash it with cold water as much as he could, but it burned badly, and he knew he had to hurry if he didn’t want to miss his ride to the stupid inauguration. Otherwise, he knew Oswald would retaliate in some way. He hoped the ceremony wouldn’t last too long.
Jim put on his suit with only one eye open, the other one producing tear after hot tear. Someone rang the door just as he was putting on his tie. “Coming,” he grumbled.
The detective was convinced that it would be one of Oswald’s men, but it was the big boss himself, clad in a dark purple suit and black leather gloves.
“Jim! So nice to - What happened to your eye?!”
“Long story. Can we go?” Jim asked, annoyed.
“Certainly not with your tie being crooked like that,” Oswald huffed and reached out to set Jim’s tie straight. “I can’t have my escort looking like a slob.”
Jim tried to shoo away Oswald’s hands, but the gangster didn’t let him, so Jim just stood there, his face burning with embarrassment. He hoped no one saw this scene. Luckily, Oswald soon led him to the limousine, making a big show of opening the door for Jim.
“It really looks bad, Jim,” Oswald commented, and Jim hated how he could hear the worry in his tone. “You should have it checked.”
“It’s fine.”
Jim couldn’t see shit as he got out of the car. He sauntered behind Oswald, trying to look alert ‒ it would be rather unfortunate if something were to happen to Oswald at the inauguration, because the GCPD would be blamed for it.
Thankfully, the inauguration went off without a hitch. There were no attempts made on the new mayor’s life, much to Jim’s relief. It wasn’t like Jim could whip out his gun and shoot the potential threat, not in his current state. He was practically blinded, and adding a firearm in the equation only heightened the chances of missing and firing at the wrong person. Jim internally cringed at the mere thought of accidentally shooting Oswald instead of his hypothetical attacker. The press, like the piranhas they are, would go crazy. Jim could already picture the headline: “Lover shoots partner during mayoral inauguration. How did this blossoming romance become a nightmare?”
Jim sent a glare towards the reporters, or at least, he hoped that the blurry shape crowded around the steps were the journalists. They were, after all, the reason he was in this mess. He didn’t pay any attention to the ongoings of the ceremony, instead focused on watching the crowd, looking for any threats. He missed the occasional glance from the new mayor, looking back at Jim with an almost prideful expression.
It turned out the biggest threat there was the wind.
The strong wind irritated Jim’s eyes, causing them to start to water. He attempted to ignore this, thinking that one leaky eye wouldn’t matter too much. It was not until he felt a tear hitting his cheek that he unwisely wiped at his eyes, not realizing that it appeared that he was crying.
After Oswald got sworn in, Jim was pushed along the stage, shoved to stand beside the new mayor. It was here where Jim began to question how his life ended up to this point. Jim’s vision was momentarily blinded by the several flashes of light coming from the bloodthirsty reporters and photographers’ cameras, as they wildly snapped photos.
Jim stood there, blinking rapidly, as his eyes teared up once more. It was not until after a few minutes of sounds of camera shutters clicking that Oswald took mercy on him. Oswald waved one last time to the crowd before they could finally leave. Jim was grateful that Oswald was heading back to the limousine and not toward the crowd of hungry reporters waiting to pounce with endless questions.
They were halfway to the car when Oswald stopped and turned to face the detective, “Jim… Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Peachy,” Jim dryly responded. At this point, tears were streaming down his face.
Oswald’s mouth dropped into a frown, but a look quickly passed over his face, like he was suddenly hit with an idea. His hands patted down his suit, apparently seeking something. A handkerchief suddenly appeared in one of Oswald’s hands, and before Jim knew it, the small distance between them vanished. The new mayor reached up and with tenderness Jim hadn’t been aware Cobblepot was capable of, gently wiped away Jim’s tears.
Jim was too stunned to slap Oswald’s hands away, too distracted by the way they shook slightly. His body went on autopilot, head dropping to accommodate the height difference, so that Oswald could dry his tear-streaked face with ease. It was not until Oswald cupped his face with his other hand that Jim realized what he’d done.
“Be still.” Oswald insisted when Jim started to squirm under his hold, scolding him like he were a misbehaving child.
Jim grumbled, “This is completely unnecessary. I am a grown adult.”
“And yet, here you are complaining like a teenager.”
“Listen, the only reason I’m here is to protect you.” Jim gladly reminded him. “Shouldn’t insult the man whose job is ensuring the safety of the new mayor. I have a loaded gun .”
Oswald snorted, “Yes, had there been any threats, I’m sure you would have been completely capable of resolving them.”
His sarcastic tone was hard to miss.
“Yeah, well, I was just trying to have lunch. If you want your personal escort to be in tip-top condition, maybe give a few days notice before springing it on a person.”
Oswald pulled the handkerchief away from Jim’s face; he didn’t remove his hands, though, still holding Jim’s face in place as he examined his eyes. “My apologies, detective. Next time I’ll be sure to give an advanced notice a few days ahead.”
“Next time? What, you planning on running for mayor in another city too? Let me check my calendar before you go announcing your candidacy just yet.”
Jim was mesmerized by the way Oswald’s mouth curled up into a smile. He’s never seen a genuine smile from the gangster, always the sly manipulative ones.
Oswald’s hand dropped from his face as he stepped back. “How’s the eye?”
“Better.” Jim answered reluctantly and didn’t miss the way Oswald’s face brightened, like he was overjoyed at the mere fact of having provided any relief for Jim.
The hand that had cupped Jim’s face was now wrapped around the crook of Jim’s elbow. Jim glanced down at Oswald’s hand, slim pale fingers splayed against his dark jacket. He started to object before he realized that Oswald was directing him back towards the vehicle, probably under the impression that Jim’s vision was too impaired to see properly. A kind, and frankly surprising, gesture on the mobster’s part.
Both of them had failed to notice the lone reporter following them after the crowd at the ceremony had dispersed, having witnessed their entire interaction from a distance.
Jim had forgotten to set an alarm the previous day, so he was running late. He didn’t even have time for his morning coffee, hoping that he could get some in a break at the precinct. He was ready with several excuses for his lateness; however, it seemed like no one was working at the GCPD. They were all gathered in the middle, laughing loudly at something.
“Oh, look, Romeo is here!”
Jim didn’t realize the statement was referring to him, his colleagues letting him go to the front with rather smug expressions and grins. It was then that Jim noticed Harvey perched on their desk, glasses on as he was reading from the newspaper. Jim thought his knees would give out when he saw the front page: it was a picture of Oswald cupping his face and wiping his eyes with the headline ‘MAYOR COBBLEPOT INAUGURATED AS WEEPY BOYFRIEND LOOKS ON PROUDLY’.
“Jimbo, glad you could make it!”
“What’s going on?”
“I was reading Ms. Vale’s very amusing article.” Harvey made a show of clearing his throat, then resumed his reading.
“This newspaper has already revealed the very intimate relationship between the two men which was confirmed yet again at the inauguration. Det. Gordon was wearing an indigo tie exactly the color of Mayor Cobblepot’s elegant suit.”
“Aww, Jim you’re matching clothes already? How sweet!” Harvey mocked, their colleagues snickering.
“What?” Jim said, utterly confused.
“Since they are dating now, maybe Mayor Cobblepot should give some fashion advice to Det. Gordon. He needs to up his game in order not to embarrass his dapper beau. ”
The GCPD let out a collective ‘ohhh’ at the hard blow delivered to Jim’s fashion sense.
“Stop, Harvey,” Jim grunted, the back of his neck burning. He lunged forward to snatch away the paper, but his partner jumped off the table with surprising agility, and went on the other side where Jim couldn’t reach him anymore.
“Ah ah, I’m not done yet.
“The most touching moment occurred when Mr. Cobblepot was sworn in – the detective watched the ceremony with tears in his eyes, clearly proud of his partner's achievements. How progressive of him to show his emotions so publicly!”
“This is a lie, I was not crying!” Jim tried to yell over the noise, the policemen and women
talking at once, electrified by the article. “I was preparing lunch when I got the call to escort Cobblepot. I accidentally rubbed chili in my eye.”
“That’s the fakest story I’ve ever heard, partner. Don't try to bullshit a bullshiter,” Harvey shook his head, and continued reading with pathos.
“Although he tried to discreetly wipe away his tears, Detective Gordon was so affected that his newly inaugurated boyfriend had to console him afterwards. Admire their tender and blossoming romance in these exclusive pictures for the Gotham Gazette. We wish good luck to Mayor Cobblepot in his new position, and of course in his private life as well. Maybe this relationship will finally bring a much needed alliance between City Hall and the GCPD.”
Jim buried his face in his hands in an attempt to block out the whistles and naughty comments.
“Damn it, this brought tears to my eyes too. What a beautiful love story,” Harvey sighed, then smirked when he saw the misery on Jim’s face.
“Alright, enough with the circus,” the Captain’s voice boomed in the building. “Get back to work.”
Jim was glad that he was saved for the moment, but during the day his face heated every time he remembered the nasty article and the inappropriate comments his colleagues had made.
He had to put his foot down and force Oswald to have the articles retracted. This had gone beyond a joke now.