call it what you want || nygmobblepot x oc ✅

Look What You Made Me Do

POV Five Jackson

The next morning, I wake up earlier than usual. There's a weird noise coming from the window. I open it slowly, not wanting it to creak loudly (as it sometimes does) and wake anyone else.

Perched on my windowsill, two stories up, is a ragged ball of fur. It's a kitten. Are you serious.

It's got bright green eyes that remind you just a little of Penguin's- stop- and orange fur, and it looks like it wants to raise some hell. I grin and let it sniff at my hand.

"Come on, baby," I say softly, and it lets me pick it up. A quick check confirms- it's a boy, and I grin. "We're gonna need a name for you," I tell him. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out." The cat meows up at me and I scratch behind his ears.

I don't want to wake anyone, as it's still early, dawn is only just breaking. So the kitten (who has crawled up to sit on my shoulder, adorable) and I walk through the hallways, watching the sun rise. At some point the little furball falls asleep and I have to catch him before he slides off my shoulder.

I head back to my room. I should get dressed. It's a Saturday, so we don't have to be anywhere. I slip on my standard black jeans, boots, and I'm about to go looking for a shirt until the kitten meows on the bed. Well, now I have to pet him, so I walk to the bed and sit down, letting the little thing crawl into my lap. I pet him and he starts purring loudly. I talk to him softly, just little things, what it's like outside, the friends I used to have. When he gets antsy I pick him up and let him look out of the windows. I don't even notice the sounds of Penguin and Nygma moving around our floor until I hear Penguin's tiny laugh from the open doorway.

I turn and put down the cat, who meows indignantly and walks over to Penguin, sniffing his bad leg. He meows up at Penguin and rubs up against it.

"Attention hog,"I mumble and Penguin smiles down at the little orange cat.

"Where'd you find him?" he asks.

"Outside my window," I say, and smile, calling him over. "He doesn't have a name yet."

"It's a second story window," he says.

"I know," I look up from petting the kitten. "How did you get up there, little guy?" I ask, and he meows at me, almost as if to say none of your damn business. I laugh, and then I realize- I'm not wearing a shirt. Oops. I shoot Penguin an apologetic look and circle to the other side of the bed to grab a spare shirt. It's my one of my favorites, a darker purple plain one. I pick up the cat from where he's meowing at Penguin and hoist him onto my shoulder. I look expectantly at the other man.

His eyes are pretty up close.

"So?" I say, and I notice him taking in my shirt- oh. I almost laugh. Purple's his color. I feel the kitten rubbing its tiny face in my hair.

"Breakfast," Penguin says, completing my thought.

"Yes," I say, rubbing at my hair to try and get it to look somewhat presentable. He calls over his shoulder as I let him go ahead of me, that Olga's sick, so we'll have to figure something out.

I grin. I have an idea.

"Don't worry, sir, I've got it," I say, and as he turns to face me I put the kitten in his arms. "Mind watching him?" I ask, walking towards the kitchen. He looks surprised but I hide my smile and point to his chair. "Sit." I duck into the kitchen and start digging through the fridge. I hum under my breath as I locate all the ingredients for pancakes.

"Should I be worried?" He calls. I laugh loudly.

"Come on, sir, nobody trusts me with anything." 

"I wonder why," I hear, and start laughing again.

I hear Nygma's footsteps, and they're talking. I shrug.

"Blueberries," I grin as I take the carton out of the fridge. "This is gonna be good." My humming escalates into quiet singing, which just gets louder. I mean, I know my voice is okay, and the chances of them hearing are slim. I crack two eggs and add some flour and milk.

"Center of attention, you know you can get whatever you want from me. Whenever you want it, baby," I sing, mixing the batter together. "Okay, blueberries." I mumble, reaching for the carton and adding a liberal amount of the fruit to the mixture.

"It's you in my reflection, now I'm afraid of all the things it could do to me, if I would've known it, baby," I continue, turning a burner on the stove on high and pulling a pan from a cupboard beneath the stove. I hum the verse and go back into the chorus.

"I should have stayed at home, cause I was doing better alone. But when you said hello, I knew it was the end of it all," I sing, lowering the pitch so I can reach the high notes. This entire time, I've been pouring batter into the pan, flipping the pancakes I've made so far. I put down the bowl and pan for a moment to get out two plates and two mugs for coffee.

I see an orange thing streak past me, meowing. "Hello, darling," I say, picking up the cat and letting him climb onto my shoulders. "You really shouldn't be in here," I tell him and he just digs his claws into my shoulder. "Ow, I get it," I exclaim, and he starts purring. This cat is a jerk.

I pick up the two plates I've put pancakes on ("No, cat, you can't eat pancakes, what are you doing-") and take them out to the dining room. Penguin is reading the newspaper and he looks up as I finish the song with the cat on my shoulder. Nygma is drumming his fingertips on the table and watching me curiously. 

"Oh, wait a sec," I say, putting the cat on the floor to go make them coffee. I come back with two mugs and place one in front of Penguin, one in front of Nygma. I don't drink it unless I'm doing a job at three in the morning. It's alcohol for me. My liver's going to fail at some point. 

I sit down and pick up my fork. I'm halfway through my first pancake (I'm a fast eater) before I notice Penguin's watching me again. His eyes are alight with something I can't necessarily place. I can't place a lot of this man, but I know I'd place myself in front of a bullet if he asked me to. Like I said, I've got a debt to pay.

His expression looks a lot like wonder.

I clear my throat a few minutes later. "I thought of a name," I say, gesturing to the cat sitting by Penguin's chair.

He just looks at me expectantly, then looks down and pets the kitten's head. He makes a soft mrr noise and rubs against his hand. Nygma's trying to hide a smile.

"Yeah," I swallow, not knowing if this is the right thing to say. "I think I'm going to call him Oswald."