My Pudgy Bird

Oswald stands in front of the full body mirror which hangs in the wide hardwood armoire that occupies a generous space of wall in the bedroom he shares with his husband. He tries on a suit that has returned from the tailor after being resized to perfectly accommodate his new body. Putting on several pounds has caused him to send out all of his suits for refitting.

Oswald has noticed the extra weight settling in around his stomach, waist, and thighs, and has never blink an eye to the matter. The Penguin remained confident in his own skin no matter how anyone looked at him. He had his doubts at times, but he'd never show it. Oswald has learned to use his new girth to gain what he wanted, especially against his husband, Edward Nygma.

"I see another has returned," Edward's voice abruptly flowed through the room. Oswald had no idea he was standing in the doorway. "I missed seeing you in that suit."

"It feels much better than before," he answers, closing the center button over his plethoric tummy.

Before handing the gray and black pinstriped suit over to the tailor, Oswald couldn't close the button of the tailcoat and when he tried on the pants, well, there was no use. The fabric would cut into his skin leaving behind angry red marking, which wasn't only uncomfortable, but physically hurt. Oswald couldn't leave his wardrobe the way it was. Wearing a suit that was no longer perfectly tailored to his physic had slowly diminished some of his confidence. He set out to put himself in a position where he would never second guess his appearance again.

"And I do look great in it," Oswald adds, rubbing his hands down the surface of the fabric and maybe, just slightly, tucking in his gut.

"Dashing. I would say," Edward chimed in, using the word he thinks more appropriately describes his man.

"Yes—" he nods— "dashing is a much better word." Oswald flips up the collar of the jacket and turns to face his husband, laying eyes on him for the first time after he'd entered the room. The statement he'd planned to grace is love is all but lost as he can't help but notice a plate of freshly baked peanut butter chocolate chip cookies in Edward's grip.

Oswald thought he'd smelled something enticing, but never connected this intoxicating aroma to his husband. It hasn't been long since he'd eaten Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and he thought that alluring scent was lingering on his person. The taste of the sweet and salty candy still lays dormant on his lips. The wrapper stashed in his breast pocket. 

"Are those for me?", Oswald asks, waddling towards Ed. The perfume of the cookies weighing heavy against his nose with each step.

"No, husband—" Edward picks up a cookie from the floral handpainted porcelain plate— "these are for me." He takes a bite and rests the half eaten cookie back onto the plate, keeping his eyes locked solely on Oswald. He removes a tiny lent-ball from his beloved spouse's shoulder as he continued to chew. "Mmm... It's still warm," says with a mouth full, flicking the lent to the floor.

Oswald's body lightly quivers, but he keeps his composer from getting irritated. "If they're not for me—" he folds his hands in front of him and straightens his back, standing more erect to intimidate his husband— "then why did you bring them?"

"I wanted you to watch me eat them," Edward answers, satisfaction in his speech.

Oswald blinks, stopping his right eyes from twitching, and his stomach grumbles unexpectedly which painted a larger smile on Edward's face. That smug bastard! "So," he says, keeping his voices free of any signs of being provoked and ignoring the fact that he has no control over his roaring tummy. "You came just to tease me?" He steps closer to his husband. "You know how much I love your cookies, Ed."