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They found themselves in the same cafe they ate at nearly every week. A place in the sort of pâtisserie-style, mostly selling tea and cakes and pastries. The kind of place you wouldn’t expect to find an assassin, or more specifically Victor. Even among assassins he was particularly likely to stick out in a room full of pink cake boxes. They sat at a round booth table, the curved seat only a semi-circle so as to leave no space to face someone. On that day the dark and scratched wooden tables were decorated with streams of crimson red; small paper love hearts strung together and hanging at the table edges, plastic pink and red roses hanging off the front counter, from the ceiling and the doorframe. Oswald nearly rolled his eyes at the decor but stopped himself. He enjoyed the extravagance really but was reflexively sceptical of sappy romantic themes.
He frowned at the temporary menu, finding his favorite items replaced by themed alternatives. The teas were all red or pink infusions, and a glance around the room showed they came with red foil-wrapped chocolates. Oswald was always indifferent to Valentine’s Day. He had no reason to despise it but neither did he care for a cheap half-observed holiday he could never celebrate.
“What?” Victor asked, clearly amused and knowing perfectly well Oswald’s lunch plans had been disrupted. Oswald merely gave him a look of feigned exasperation, sighing and pushing the menu towards Zsasz as if it was now unreadable and useless.
“Just get me whatever you want. Surprise me.”
Victor looked a little more alive then, his large brown eyes glancing at Oswald and then back at the menu before him, but only for a second, as he rose to his feet without another word and was gone for several minutes. Oswald couldn’t see the counter from his place in the booth, the only view he had was of more seats, unoccupied at this end of the cafe, and the ageing ice cream case and even older jukebox they kept in the corner. He was grateful for the lack of prying eyes, always being sure he and Victor made for a conspicuous sight, with him being the mayor and Victor looking something like a dark spectre.
When Zsasz returned he shrugged out of his jacket and gun harness before placing the weapons beside him on the worn leather seat. Oswald almost never saw Zsasz set his pistols down in public, though he figured the cafe was probably as safe a place as they could be. Victor’s movement stirred the air into a breeze and Oswald was sure it smelled of roses, either from the air in the cafe itself or from Victor. He felt the small but persistent impulse to lean closer and find out.
“I was thinking, Boss, if you wanna get rid of the guy from this morning…”
"Victor, look— firstly, you really don’t need to call me that.” Oswald’s cheeks became involuntarily tinged red. “And secondly, can we please not talk about work while we’re out to eat? I don’t need these people taking up more of our time than they deserve…”
He paused for a moment, considering Victor’s widened, steady gaze, “… but there's no need to worry. You’ll get number 78 soon enough, okay?” At that Victor laughed for a second, a wide grin, and Oswald smiled back. He shifted sideways in his seat to be just a little closer. He knew whatever this was with Victor was rapidly progressing into something more than almost flirting but he had no idea if Victor was meaning for that, or even knew he was giving that impression. The last thing he needed was to complicate things, though at this point it was already a faded line between work and socializing… Oswald didn’t know how Victor perceived their constant lunch dates but this time the love-themed decorations were making him unduly nervous.
He hoped they could always just go out together, enjoy the brief time of closeness and never have to talk about what was going on between them. They would probably never cross that bridge but it was fun all the same, Oswald thought. Fun that he had someone who liked him and whose company he loved so much, and who made him feel appreciated and cared about. It was weirdly fulfilling and Oswald had never felt so happy, if he was honest with himself. For all the hardship in his recent life he was starting to feel optimistic, and the thought frightened him as much as it made his heart race.
They had been talking for another ten minutes or so when two waitresses arrived, setting down six plates between them, each containing a different dessert. Finally a tall sundae glass of dark pink liquid was put down in front of Oswald, four candy stripe straws placed buoyantly inside. He looked to Victor for a second while planning to hail a waitress back and say this wasn’t what they ordered, except Victor’s face made it clear that it was. He was looking intently and gathering all the plates closer to them both. He picked up a tiny spoon and held it out towards Oswald.
“You said to order what I wanted.”
Oswald supposed it did constitute a surprise. His stomach was on the verge of becoming loud with hunger, too. Even so, he made a small sound in disbelief.
“You expect me to eat… how many of these?”
“As many as you want.” As soon as Victor had spoken another staff member came by and left two more plates, this time with small cupcakes and raisin cookies. Zsasz leaned over the table to check out all the food on offer as if he’d forgotten what he ordered. Penguin was beginning to think the smell of fresh baking mixed with the scent of roses was overpowering. He tentatively moved a slice of raspberry pie closer to himself and was then startled when a waiter brought a container of cream that had thankfully been left in its original color and not tainted pink for the occasion.
“You know this is ridiculous?” As he said it, though, he was already scooping up soft raspberries and pastry with the spoon he’d been handed. He had to admit his love for desserts, and he was quietly glad it was something Victor shared. The absurdity made him laugh to himself as he ate the first portion of pie. He could see Victor was licking the frosting from one of the cupcakes and tried not to stare.
Victor was totally absent as he ate cake after cake, seeming not to notice Oswald’s blush at the sight of his lips and tongue moving the way they did. After a while he stopped eating to watch Oswald take a sip of the strawberry milkshake he had ordered, trying to tell if he liked it or not.
“Is it too sweet?” he asked flatly, not caring to wait for the answer and instead scooting over to taste it for himself, placing his lips around the same straw that had just been used. Oswald made to say that it wasn’t, only Victor leaning in so close made him stumble over the words in his head and he ended up saying nothing, just shaking his head. He thought it was surely a conscious decision on Victor’s part to flout his personal space, but then again Victor didn’t always adhere to social convention with anybody.
“Mm… so good.” Victor sighed gently, not moving back very much at all, then pushed two of the straws around to face Oswald, “Have some more.” His voice was nonchalant and not particularly quiet, as if there was nothing remotely private about their conversation. Which Oswald realized was true, though still he felt himself blush at the way it sounded like a dare.
In the moment he decided to play along, taking two straws into his mouth and drinking more of the liquid ice cream. He should have anticipated that Victor would immediately do the same, and of course he did, crowding the small space between them with his body heat and the soft sound of milkshake moving up the straws. Oswald tried to ignore the intimacy as long as he could, before Victor stopped drinking and moved deliberately closer, touching his nose to Oswald’s cheek and humming softly in contentment. Oswald nearly choked on the drink and withdrew a few inches from the straws, trying to laugh it off while his thoughts were in disarray. Milkshake had spilled slightly from his lips. Before he could clean it off, Zsasz placed both hands on top of Oswald’s and licked away the milkshake from his mouth, covering the pink droplets with his lips and flattening his tongue gently against Oswald’s skin.
There was no time to react with more than a soft gasp before Victor pulled his face away and started eating from another plate, this time a caramel fondant, as if nothing notable had happened. How long he might keep up the pretense, Oswald didn’t know. His suspicions about Victor’s feelings being confirmed so suddenly gave him a rush of overwhelming relief and adrenaline and he didn’t know quite how to respond. He stared at Victor expectantly, Victor ignoring him in a way he could tell was supposed to be funny but which became immediately frustrating.
The tension of Oswald’s stunned silence eventually became too much and Victor shot him a sideways glance, laughing in response to the nervous excitement and shock that was clear on his face. It was refreshing to see Victor look even remotely shy for once, Oswald thought as he saw him turn away with the smile still on his face. His demeanor didn’t generally leave room for apprehension or self-consciousness but he was somewhat unpredictable. Oswald knew that, at least.
He reached out his hand and found Victor’s, feeling himself shake a little but not caring. He wanted to throw his arms around him, to climb into his lap and hold his face and never stop smiling. Everything he wanted with Victor was starting in front of him and as embarrassed as he felt to be sitting in a public place as it happened, he at least couldn’t hold back the smiling part.
He could see the movement of Victor’s throat as he swallowed, and then Victor was leaning in close and kissing him again, perfectly slowly with lips that were warm and non-insistent. Oswald glanced quickly around and he was thankful they had been left alone, letting his eyes fall closed. He felt dizzy and elated like he might start laughing hysterically or even faint. Distracted, he accidentally crashed some small china plates together as he tried to move his other hand from the table. He turned to face Victor as much as he could in the small booth, leaning in to his kisses for a while before they stopped when Zsasz heard a waiter approaching. It was only for Oswald’s sake, Victor more or less lacking inhibition when it came to public affection, and he watched amusedly as Oswald looked suddenly anxious from the arrival of another person despite the fact they had seen nothing. Victor had to answer for them when the waiter asked if everything was okay, beaming up at him and using his friendliest voice.
They ate the rest of their desserts unhurriedly, not wanting the lunch date to end. Oswald found his usual composure was completely gone and instead he was stuck in a weird place of wanting to tell Victor everything he felt, every longing moment he’d ever had and everything he liked about him, while also trying to stay collected and carry out a normal conversation. Victor was just openly flirting, trying to get Oswald to blush as often as possible. He would interrupt Oswald’s sentences with kisses every now and then and lean too close when they were talking to try to distract him. He put his arm around his waist and caressed his side, sometimes just crossing his legs and rubbing one absently against Oswald’s. He seemed to be making every effort to be the most corny romantic date possible and Oswald couldn’t help finding it hugely sweet and highly ironic considering the impression Victor usually gave of his personality. His alert, unwavering expression could quickly turn half-lidded, soft and affectionate.
They requested their leftover desserts to be boxed up, only managing to get through half of them at the table. The familiar pink boxes were stacked in front of them. Oswald peered at the chocolate-covered donuts in the top one before reluctantly closing the lid.
“So I’m kind of free the rest of the day,” Victor said emphatically when they stood up, “Since you don’t want any more lives ended this afternoon. And you still haven’t been to my apartment yet.”
Oswald tried to hide his smile, retrieving his cane from where it leaned against their booth.
“You will have to remind me of the address, then.”
— — — — —
In the hallway of his building Victor put both arms around Oswald’s waist and squeezed lightly, kissing his neck for a while before finally opening the door. They ducked inside, Oswald seeming far less nervous than he’d been on the journey there. They had taken his personal car and Oswald was reluctant to let anyone know about their sort-of-relationship yet, even his driver. He glanced with admiration around the apartment seeing it for the first time as he stepped out of his shoes, delighting in the unexpected look of the place. It was not unlike the apartment he grew up in; old furniture and an array of strange things everywhere, mismatching dusty lamps and a dark red velvet love-seat. It was weird and cute and not totally unlike Victor, with his apparent love for things dark and strange. More than one item had a skull motif and Oswald laughed internally at the utter stereotype of it, loving how unashamedly tacky Victor’s taste in furniture was. He had his clothes hung up on free standing metal rails like a department store and Oswald made a mental note to try having a closer look at them later.
Victor led him by the hands to the couch, walking backwards and almost falling onto it, pulling Oswald gently down with him. Oswald could barely kiss him for smiling, all the while trying to figure out where was the best place to put his hands. They hovered by Victor’s shoulders, then ran down his arms only barely touching before resting at his hips. It felt almost too intimate but Oswald couldn’t really change his mind, it was too much to think about. Victor’s breath was hot and still smelled vaguely of cakes and Oswald found it difficult to remember to breathe, pulling back from the kiss what felt like a dozen times. He was painfully self conscious but found assurance in Victor’s warm hands pressed against his cheek and neck, his fingers running through his hair and his voice telling him he was so cute and so sweet.
“I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner,” he offered. “Kiss you, I mean. Believe me I wanted to…”
Oswald smiled widely again, feeling the familiar wave of shyness crash over him. He didn’t know what to reply. Although he felt the same it seemed foolish to say so. He was so used to having a sarcastic or playful response but here he was totally lost.
Victor’s hands traveled up inside his suit jacket and he was startled despite multiple layers still masking his skin from direct contact. He thought the logical thing was to remove it, and he tried reaching for the buttons, Victor seeing this and helping him push the fabric slowly off his shoulders. Victor didn’t seem one to rush things, and pulled Oswald close as soon as it was off to prevent him feeling like he had to undress further. His kisses were slow and soft and though he bit down gently sometimes it was only the lightest pressure. Oswald’s eyes blinked open ever so slightly to see Victor’s were closed, which made him feel better in a way. He couldn’t believe how much the closeness made him want to get somehow closer still, like he wanted his whole body covered in pressure and heat from Victor’s.
“Want me to take off my shirt?” Victor asked him. Oswald only nodded though he wouldn't have minded either way, pushing his hair out his face slightly as he leaned back enough for Victor to undress. He watched, breathing unevenly but trying to look unfazed, though he wanted so badly to run his hands down Victor’s chest and arms and hold him all at the same time. He could feel the warmth from the shirt as Victor reached to deposit it beside them on the seat, the fabric brushing against his hand and making him shiver. The scars that marked Victor’s arms had extended up nearly to his shoulders, and Oswald knew there were seventy-seven of them in their neat bundles, one tally mark incomplete.
Victor settled back into the sofa and brought Oswald closer. He kissed him again and Oswald closed his lips softly around Victor’s tongue, feeling himself grow still warmer at the sensation of it sliding from his mouth. He felt like the blush would stay permanently on his face.
Victor broke from the kiss eventually, moving one hand from Oswald’s face to rub gently at his arm. “What would you like me to do?”
The question lingered unanswered, Oswald looking to Victor’s large eyes as if the answer might be found there if he only looked long enough.
“Wh-whatever you want. Please, do anything.” Oswald swallowed dryly, his mouth suddenly parched from anxious anticipation. “Really,” he added in response to Victor’s questioning expression, “anything at all.” A nervous smile followed, hoping Victor would take him seriously. Instead Victor heard the way his voice cracked towards the end and kissed him on the cheek before moving him gently aside, going to get him a glass of water from the kitchen. Oswald couldn’t help staring after him as he walked, the exposed skin of his back warmly lit by numerous lamps. Oswald accepted the water with an embarrassed ‘thank you’.
“If you’re wondering, the straw’s just there ‘cause you look cute using one.”
Oswald didn’t really need to know this and it embarrassed him more, though he couldn’t help but smile again at the thought of Victor finding anything about him cute. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way and his heart fluttered to a higher rate.
“Really, Victor, anything you want,” he reminded him, moving his hands to Victor’s shoulders soon after he sat back down, this time fully on to his lap, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain his own total lack of initiative. He just wanted to feel like he was wanted and to make Victor feel the same. He didn’t mind how or by what means, and he didn’t care how much would be unexpected. Victor had always been gentle and considerate towards him; there wasn’t much to fear except his own personal anxieties. He tried as much as possible to pretend they didn’t exist, though he knew Victor could probably tell.
“Okay…” Victor conceded, drawing out the word slightly. He kissed down Oswald’s neck slowly, unfastening a few buttons below his collar to give him access to more skin. Oswald shivered as his sternum was exposed to the air, his tie discarded on the arm of the seat though his shirt and vest remained firmly on. He moved his hands to Victor’s chest, the skin hot under his touch and completely smooth. He ran his hands over his torso cautiously, while Victor squeezed gently at his thighs. That really startled him, his leg jerking a little from the pressure. Victor pulled back for a moment and Oswald only managed to say “Please keep going” in a weak response.
Victor got him to stand for a moment while he slowly pulled the fabric of Oswald’s suit pants free from his body, placing kisses against the front of his vest as he did. He pushed at the layers of fabric there, shifting them upward to mouth at the soft skin of his abdomen. Oswald was just watching with half-closed eyes, his lashes dark and heavy from mascara.
He was soon led back onto the sofa and lain down where he continued to watch as Zsasz kneeled between his legs with his usual wide-eyed expression. He felt a rush of intense heat come over him, fighting the urge to cover himself up and look away. He only chose the latter, making it slightly easier to handle though his heart still felt ready to give out. He tried not to think about how quickly he’d gotten hard, what Victor might think of him for it. He stared at the patterned ceiling and then down at the surrounding furniture. Victor started to kiss and lick his inner thighs gently, then somewhat more passionately, moving up almost to the fabric of his underwear and quickly moving lower again. Oswald moaned involuntarily, his mouth closed but still managing to be audible, a desperate whine that made Victor stop for a second and smile up at him with his wide rows of teeth.
He continued to kiss and caress his thighs, sucking gently, then moving without warning to kiss his cock through the remaining layer of fabric. Oswald closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly against his will, flustered at his own response. In any case, Victor didn’t seem to mind at all. His lips kissed him again and again, relishing the way Oswald’s cock would twitch and move against his lips and the way his damp thighs pressed against his cheeks occasionally. Oswald was whimpering now, rolling his hips upward gently to get more pressure from Victor’s mouth. He couldn’t quite believe it was happening, Victor touching him this way… Victor’s tongue pressing flatly against his cock and his hands rubbing him through the fabric intermittently. Oswald moved as Victor began to help remove his underwear, though it embarrassed him to do so, he knew there was no point in being shy now. Still he couldn’t bring himself to watch when Victor finally took his cock into his mouth. He could only let out small high pitched sounds, though he tried to hold them in, and breathy sighs as he quickly reached the edge of orgasm. Victor’s hand squeezed firmly while his mouth surrounded the head, overwhelmingly warm and wet.
Abruptly he stopped, and the length of Oswald’s body was covered by Victor’s, pressing down gently against him, holding his face again and kissing him with the same slowness as before. Oswald wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders instinctively with his injured leg resting on top of Victor’s hip. Zsasz held onto his other leg to reposition Oswald a little lower on the sofa below him, and proceeded to grind down with increasing friction, his cock rubbing against Oswald’s as they continued to kiss.
“Victor… aah… aa—” He turned away from Victor’s lips to try to breathe, and to speak, but that was all he could manage to say. Victor’s face pressed and rubbed against his neck as he came with another, louder whimper, sort of hoping Victor hadn’t seen his face, sort of wishing he had. Victor pressed their bodies together harder as Oswald continued to come, his legs squeezing around Victor’s waist. Victor could feel his own orgasm building up and he moaned softly against Oswald’s skin, feeling the dampness of sweat against his lips and hearing his quiet whimpers so close to his ear. He stroked himself as they continued to grind against one another, and soon his own come seeped through the front of his boxer briefs and onto Oswald’s softening cock.
“Oswald…” he breathed out under the strain of sensation, "You're just the sweetest thing." He laughed a little, and his voice was quiet as he smiled against Oswald's neck, then kissed his cheek to find that Oswald was panting softly when he turned to return the kiss. The comment had made him squeeze his eyes shut, caught between self-consciousness and the surreal state of having made it this far, to be lying there holding onto Victor's body. Victor groaned quietly when he broke away from Oswald’s skin, shuffling back to place himself between his legs again and licking away the mess on his abdomen. Oswald yelped at the contact, finding the strokes of Victor’s tongue suddenly ticklish and involuntarily he writhed and giggled, becoming breathless. When it stopped he sat up with some difficulty, his hair completely dishevelled as Victor reached and placed his crushed shirt over Oswald’s lap. He could see the front of his vest had gotten stained as badly as Victor’s underwear, opaque wetness apparent on both fabrics. Though he found that he didn’t care all that much. His head was spinning in the most pleasant way and he looked hopelessly at Victor, feeling emotionally drained and like his limbs were suddenly heavy. Victor seemed not to notice, kissing his lips briefly and pulling him into his lap again. After a while he gestured towards the stacked pink boxes on the adjacent table.
“… Want one?” He looked almost grave as if this were an important question.
Oswald didn’t respond apart from a weary glance towards the table, still breathing pretty heavily and holding Victor, his cheek leaning against Victor’s head.
Zsasz opened the first box and sat it on top of Oswald’s knees anyway, filling the air with the sweet smell of fried dough.
“… Actually… okay, yes.”