call it what you want || nygmobblepot x oc ✅

Gorgeous

POV Five Jackson

Okay, I don't know what I was thinking either. Was this a mistake? My mind leaps into overdrive, and I struggle to keep eye contact. In the end I drop my eyes and take another bite. Everyone knows his name- and Oswald meows from the floor. 

"Maybe Ozzie for short," I say, and aw mouth, no, what is wrong with you? No brain to mouth filter? Idiot. 

He puts his fork down and I tense. Hopefully it isn't too noticeable. Nygma keeps his mouth shut for once.

"Why are you doing this?"

Not what I expected. "Doing what?" I ask. I think know what he's talking about but I'm confused- does he think- I don't even know what he thinks this is. Nobody but, well, Nygma has ever showed this man kindness and you can sue me for being another person who wants to do so. To show him that people can be nice without wanting something in return. That's it.

"This," he gestures to the table. "What are you trying to do?"

There's enough food on my plate for one last bite, so I take it before I answer.

"What makes you think I'm doing something?" I question, standing and collecting our plates. "I can't be nice just to be a good person about it?"

"Comes with a price attached," he says, quieter. Nygma looks over at him, concerned.

"Mine doesn't," I say, voice steady. "Mine doesn't, and his doesn't either." I'm referring to Nygma, who's left the dining room in the time I was in the kitchen.

"I'm not dumb," I say, shrugging and raising my voice as I deposit the dishes in the sink in the kitchen. I walk back out to the dining room and pick up Ozzie from the floor. 

I mean, it is pretty obvious. Penguin is not good at this "hiding your feelings" thing. I'm better, and I know, cause I'm doing it right now. I'm not happy about it. Can't say anything to his face. I might have feelings for the guy but he's in love with the man who killed my older sister. I don't trust Oswald much, so I certainly don't trust Nygma. At all. But it's kind of nice- when they're together it's like Oswald's pieces fall into place. They really are friends. They really do understand each other. Much to my chagrin.

"You-"

"I mean, it's not surprising," I say. "You don't become a mobster with a perfect family life, sir. Nygma-" 

"You can say Edward-"

"I find that people don't like me using their real names unless they tell me I can. I called my father sir for years." I say. "Unless he tells me I can call him that, it's Nygma to me."

Penguin looks up at me. "You can call me Oswald," he says, quieter.

"Thank you," and I have to stop myself from adding "sir" at the end. 

"He's your friend. You probably never had a friend before. He's the only member in the-" I have to pause- "'Oswald Deserves Someone To Be Nice To Him' club. Or he was, because now I'm joining, and you're just going to have to live with it." He could be nice to Oswald, but not to Kristen. Who arguably deserved it. I need to stop with that train of thought.

"Wow," he says quietly. "That's the most I've ever heard you talk."I shrug, petting Ozzie's head. 

"Thank you," he says. 

"It's confusing whether you've been in love before or not," I say, sitting back down. There. It's out. He knows that I know now.

He gapes, then gathers himself. "And you know what that's like."