Chapter Text
You shiver slightly as the cold rain falls over your figure at a rapid pace. You stare at the crime scene and are grateful that the aggressor was swiftly caught by Batman before he could murder any more civilians.
You yawn, your body protesting your decision to work instead of sleeping for more than 24 hours. Suddenly, the rain stops hitting you and you see a cup of coffee in your peripheral vision. You take it without bothering to look since the only one who brings you coffee is Bullock.
You take a sip and blink in surprise. It tastes way better than the coffee you drank up until now "Wow, this is actually good. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
You cough, the coffee going down the wrong pipe when his smooth voice speaks next to you. You step back and turn sharply, only to see the Penguin looking at you calmly. He leisurely takes a step closer again, stopping the rain from hitting your person with his umbrella.
"Did you poison it?" You demand, gripping the coffee cup with the full intention of splashing his face with it.
He narrows his eyes "I wouldn't stoop so low as to use poison", he replies, his tone a tad sharper than usual "I wish to congratulate you. I am impressed that you managed to find Two-Face without my help."
You scoff "I told you that I could handle it", you utter, throwing a glance around at the other policemen. You freeze when you notice that they are entirely unbothered by the bird of prey's presence. With great dread, you realize that Bullock isn't the only cop in Penguin's pocket.
"Indeed. However, your lucky streak seems to have evaporated", he pulls out of his pocket a beautiful diamond ring, looking at the expensive item uninterested "Roxy Rocket seems to have eluded you until now."
You realize that the ring is one the former stunt women stole and you snatch it from his hand "She came to you?!" You hiss, anger palpable in your voice.
He shrugs as he walks past you toward a building, a smirk twisting his lips when you follow him "She wanted a fence", he informs you as if what he mentioned isn't a crime- and with his connections and influence, it might as well not be. "Do you wish to know where she is?" he inquires, watching you like a hawk as he shakes his umbrella to rid it of the rain once inside the building.
"If I could find Two-Face without your help, I can find her as well", you say as you push back the hood of your raincoat, not bothered in the slightest that you are again alone in a room with him since now you are armed.
"I do not doubt that. The only difference is that Roxy is reckless. She plans to ride a rocket and hit the Gotham tower."
You pale, your mind working to try and calculate how to get the civilians to safety. When you realize that you need to evacuate the buildings within a vast radius of the tower, you bristle "Give me one good reason not to drag you to the police station and interrogate you until you give me her location." You put your coffee cup down on a desk and glare at him as you wait for his answer.
If anything, he seems amused by your words "My dear, you seem inclined to have me tied up and at your mercy. I usually prefer it the other way ‘round", he purrs, and your pulse roars in your ears "I can withstand torture and not say anything. Do you think your feeble attempts at interrogation come close to what I went through?" he adds, and you feel a chill go down your spine.
You are slightly taken aback and wonder who was crazy enough to torture someone as dangerous as the Penguin. You fist your hands so hard that your nails dig into your palm "What do you want?"
He removes his coat and places it on a chair in the office, making himself at home. He most likely owns the building.
"An exchange. Quid pro quo."
"I think my end is met, I didn't fire Bullock or the others."
His eyes shine, clearly impressed that you deduced that Bullock isn't the only cop he has. He then scoffs "Don't insult my intelligence. You didn't fire him or the others because you knew I would find other cops to corrupt."
God how you detest that he has a sharp mind. This feels like an intense chess match, and you’ll be damned before you let him win.
"I saved your life."
"And in exchange, I didn't end yours. You must be well aware that I had plenty of opportunities." He nods to the coffee cup for emphasis.
Ire bubbles under your skin "What the fuck do you want? A kiss?!"
Deadly silence follows your question, and the surprise in his rich brown eyes astonishes you.
"I wouldn't be opposed", he finally answers, and you feel like someone slapped you.
Is he serious? Is he really ready to give up the location of one of his criminal friends just for a kiss? He is either the saddest man alive or the most perverted. However, from the way he is gazing at you now, you are inclined to say the former. That doesn't make sense. You saw women in the crowd cheering when he sang at the Iceberg Lounge. You consider it virtually impossible that not even one of them would fall in bed with him.
"You want a kiss for Roxy's location?" You quickly ask before he regains his sanity.
"Yes", he replies bluntly.
You close the distance in a few steps, and he watches you like a hawk "Very well. You can have one kiss."
Slowly, his hand raises to your chin, his fingers gently gripping it to tilt your head upward. His gaze studies your own for a few moments, searching for disgust or reluctance. He finds none, only determination, and again he is baffled by you and utterly intrigued.
He closes his eyes and lowers his head, your eyelashes fluttering shut as well.
You feel his soft lips glide over yours in a gentle caress, and you curse him and your very existence. How unlucky can you be to desire him, a notorious rogue you need to lock up? And yet, you can't help but kiss him back, pushing your lips against his in an intimate dance.
His heart flutters at your small gesture, his other hand coming to the base of your neck to stroke the baby hairs there. He tries his luck, his tongue asking for permission, which you grant after only a moment of hesitation. He deepens the kiss, your tongues dancing together in beautiful harmony. He is flabbergasted by what's happening. This is the most sensual kiss he has ever experienced, and he doesn't wish for it to ever stop.
No. No. This was meant to be a game. He only cranked up the charm to get under your skin. The kiss was meant to be your downfall, not his! And yet, there's a moan stuck in his throat, his heart is fluttering in his chest like a trapped sparrow, and his pulse is rushing through his veins like lightning. To make it worse, he feels his cock stir. Heaven be merciful, he wants you.
Unfortunately, his lungs remind him that he needs to breathe to survive, so he breaks the kiss, but not before pecking your lips one final time, effectively stealing one kiss more than agreed. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, waiting to see how you will react once you open yours. To his immense shock, when your eyelashes flutter open he sees the flash of something that might be arousal swimming in your eyes, and he really wish he could tell for sure.
"Roxy's location?" You ask, your voice softer than usual but luckily steady, stepping back from the warmth of his body to try and put real and metaphorical distance between you and what just happened.
He tries to remind himself that this is a business transaction that he initiated. Then why is there hope blooming in his heart?
"Hangar 13 on the West side of Gotham."
You nod, trying with all your might to regain your composure "Mr. Cobblepot", you utter and make your way toward the door.
"Commissioner Gordon", he replies, and staggers slightly when the door closes.
He quickly leans on the desk to steady himself and puts his hand over his mouth. His lips still tingle from the kiss, as if you branded him. He hits the wooden surface hard and growls in anger. This wasn't meant to happen! Hasn’t he been burned enough times already? Why does his heart not listen to his brain?!
"Damn it!" He yells in the empty office space.
His breath stutters when hope grips his very being. No, no, no. He places his hand over his heart in a desperate attempt to stop it from lingering on you. He reminds himself that you can't be interested in him. First and foremost, he is your enemy. And then there's the other issue. He grimaces when one of his long fingers comes to trace his long nose. No one in all his life has ever found him attractive, and he knows that he is far from handsome. He highly doubts that you will look past these issues. He takes a deep breath, hating how women only see him when they can gain something from him. From status, as Veronica wanted, to information as you now wish – even if he is the only one to blame for the latter.
He hangs his head, defeated by his heart "Damn it."
He sees the coffee cup you left behind. Without thinking, he gingerly grasps it and takes a sip from it. He swears he can feel the warmth of your lips once again.