Edwald Nygmobblepot One-Shots

Love Story

Oswald was sitting cross-legged in bed with a book spread open in his lap. His eyes roamed over the pages in silent contemplation in the bright, flickering light of the candles spread around his room. It would have been easier to turn on the lights, of course, but he found it oddly soothing to go back to basics.

He didn't pay much attention to the book, truthfully, it was just something he had found on a bookshelf downstairs and decided to read it just to give his mind something to do. Gotham seemed like a distant memory to him, feeling more like a past life than anything. Some part of him wanted nothing more than to return to his home, to begin the slow climb back up to power. He had done it once, he could do it again.

And this time Oswald had nothing to lose, nothing that could be used against him. He could climb his way to the top and easily outsmart any petty rivals. But there was another part of that begged for him to stay, here, with his father. He had been telling the truth that he was a changed man, but gradually he felt his old self returning, yearning to go back to his old life. But it was safer here, and he had a chance to live the life he had always dreamed of a child: one where he was taken care of and loved like the king his mother taught him he should be. It was the type of king that never had to worry about people trying to overthrow him or outsmart him.

He couldn't decide whether it was better that way, or worse.

Oswald was truly grateful towards his father, at least. He couldn't be bothered to spend time with his step-family, but his father seemed to respect, admire, and even love him, and it was surprisingly nice to spend time with someone who shared many of his opinions. Father was one of the first people that he really connected with.

But only one of the first...not the first exactly. With a sigh he recalled his interactions with Edward Nygma. Awkward at first, and then...then they had started to connect, it seemed. Over time Edward's presence became more bearable and eventually almost pleasant. Even the stupid riddles had begun to grow on him. And shortly after that Oswald had started developing deeper feelings for him, feelings that he supposed he would never openly admit to anyone. But he wouldn't ever let his thoughts torment him with thoughts of them together; Ed was far too obsessed with his poor dead girlfriend. In all likelihood he wasn't even the slightest bit interested in men. He felt a odd pang in his chest at the thought, and returned his attention to the book somewhat to forget the thought.

Minutes passed, maybe hours, and Oswald continued to turn the pages as if he was actually interested in the story. His eyes traveled over the words without really understanding what they said, but he turned the page again anyways. The gentle flap of paper was the only sound in the stillness of the house.

And then an unusually loud thump from outside made him jump. He looked over towards the source of the sound fearfully, just as the shadow of a hand appeared over the window frame. Before he had time to react another hand appeared, and with a heavy grunt the figure pulled itself up and tumbled in through the window. The curtains parted and Oswald's jaw dropped in surprise as he caught a glimpse of the face.

"Ed?" Oswald breathed, unsure how exactly he should react to this situation.

"Penguin!" Edward gasped, the widest grin on his face. He continued to lie on the ground for a moment to catch his breath before adding, "I'm glad my calculations were correct."

Oswald's brow furrowed in confusion. "Calculations?"

Ed was still out of breath, but he sat up and brushed the curtains the rest of the way to the side and answered, "It took some time but I was finally able to distinguish which rooms were most likely to be yours based on a variety of factors, firstly by excluding the rooms that most likely belonged to the current owners of the household and the standard construction plan followed for houses of this type and the date it was built. As it was there were three possibilities that I narrowed it down to, so I could just as easily have wound up in the hallway or in another bedroom."