Chapter Text
It was a nice crisp evening, well at least as nice of an evening as you could get during winter in Gotham. The excitement of Christmas Eve brought the sports of the city up a surprising about though. Despite all the festive joy around Oswald Cobblepot was drunk off his ass, sitting at the kitchen bar of his empty house. He was slouched and defeated accompanied only by the many empty bottles around him.
"Merry merry Christmas hic to all the children and hic all that bullshit" He slurred out to the vacant room around him.
The holidays had always been so fun for the man but now all it did was remind of his mother. Gods above he missed her. It had been years but he thought of her constantly, her death had left a gaping hole in his chest that nothing could fill. What was it people said? Grief doesn't shrink, you just grow? That sounded right. Oswald didn't thought he must not have grown much then if he still hurt this bad.
"Are you hic watching me now, mother?..." Oswald swirled the alcohol around in his glass, watching it move with glassy eyes, "are you disappointed in me?...have I failed you?"
He sniffled, rubbing his eyes furiously. His attempts to stop his tears didn't yield the result he desired. He was a failure, wasn't he? With another choked sob he drank the rest of his glass. The burn of the whiskey filled his senses enough to dull the pain. Only for a moment he felt like he could breathe. Like his chest wasn't being constricted. But that feeling soon faded and he broke down into a hysterical mess. Drowning in his own tears and snot Oswald threw an empty bottle at the wall.
"FUCKING F-FUCK!" He practically screamed, anger mixing into his devastating grief.
Oswald grabbed another bottle, fumbling with the cork. When it didn't open he smashed the top of he bottle against the counter. The glass shattered slicing his hand in the process. He brought the broken bottle neck to his lips and drank down the burning liquid inside. The glossy bourbon mixing with the blood leaking from his lips. His chest burned furiously but he just kept gulping down the alcohol, a desperate part of his brain wishing for it all to just go away. When the bottle was empty he felt like vomiting, his own body feebly rejecting the abuse.
"This is b-bullshit!" Oswald cursed to no one and everyone at once, "all hic ...bunch hic bull hic hic bullshit"
Gripping the broken bottle tightly in his hand before dropping it to the ground. The small man grabbed another bottle letting out a scream as he did. All the pain releasing in a broken pained scream. The sound echoing horribly around the surrounding appliances in the kitchen. The scream trembled almost as violently as he did. His body and spirit crumbling together into a heap on the floor. Desperately clutching the bottle to his chest he sobbed again, the sobs slowly disapated into whimpers of a defeated man.
On the outside of the lavish home stood an assassin, cloaked in the heavy shadows the sunset brought. Slowly he emerged, Victor Zsasz was beaming ear to ear. Excitedly he knocked on the door. When no response came from his loud pounding Victor tilted his head. Was Oswald not home? Certainly he was home on Christmas Eve.
"Ossy bird?" Victor called out as he pushed the door to see if it was unlocked.
To his surprise the door gave way, a slight sense of dread slipped down his spine. Where was his Oswald? He walked further into the house, closing the door behind him as he glanced around. His eyes narrowed as he took in the slight changes he noticed from the last time he was here. Nothing major, just a bit more clutter...some dirty dishes on the coffee table.
"Oswald?" Victor called again, a bit more tension in his voice now. "Boss?"
When Victor turned the corner and saw the chaos of the kitchen his heart dropped, the bag in his hand dropping to the floor without a second thought. He ran over to the crumpled man on the floor.
"OSWALD!" Victor dropped to his knees beside the man, holding his face, "Please wake up, this isn't funny!"
The drunken man blinked slowly up, eyes unfocused and watery. Victor let out a sign of relief, pulling Oswald into his arms with a gentleness even he wasn't aware he possessed.
"You scared me...I thought you were..." Victor breathed out shakily, unable to finish his sentence as the thought was too distressing to even speak aloud.
"Victor?" Oswald slurred slowly, "is that hic you?"
"You're completely wasted" Victor sighed with a light laugh, cupping the miserable face in front of him, "What am I supposed to do with you, hm?"
"Maybe you hic could fuck me senseless til til my brain is mushy" Oswald mumbled out as he nuzzles into the assassin's rough hands.
"Now as inticing as that sounds..." Victor ran his fingers through that beautiful coal coloured hair he found so striking, "I fear you're in no condition for sex at the moment"
Oswald looked much like a drowned bird in that moment, all crumpled clothes and wet faced. If Victor was honest with himself it made him want to spend eternity protecting the man. He wasn't entirely sure if that was considered love but it was the closest he'd ever been to the abstract feeling people talked so much about.
"Don't look so dejected, this isn't an outright rejection" Victor smiled, "I'd be happy to talk about this tomorrow when you're sober enough to really enjoy all I can offer"
Oswald flushed even deeper then the drunk hue he already had in spades. He gave a whiny grumble before giving up to let Victor hold him.
"Just relax for me, I'll take care of you" Victor hummed as he scooped up Oswald in his arms.
Oswald didn't even flinch, just nuzzled in closer. He was placed gently on the couch before Victor went to fetch some supplies to deal with this mess. When he returned he handed Oswald a large plastic cup, there had been enough broke glass for tonight.
"I need you to drink all of this, slowly" Victor instructed the inebriated Cobblepot.
Oswald nodded and begin to drink in slow steady gulps. As he drank Victor took his wounded hand and gently wiped the blood away. With careful hands he cleaned and wrapped the appendage to ensure it would heal alright. Once that was done he kissed the now bandaged palm.
"You're doing so good, sweetheart" He whispered against the wrapping, smiling as he met Oswald's eyes for a moment.
Victor got to his feet and patted Oswald's head, allowing for the other to keep drinking the water as Victor went into the kitchen. Clean up took a little bit but once he was satisfied he returned to his boss. Much to Victor's delight the water had all been drank.
"There you go, perfect" Victor cupped Oswald's cheeks and smiled down at him.
When the spinning in his head had calmed Oswald just felt the need to sleep but he wanted to keep talking with Victor. So as any drunk would do he said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Do you like Christmas?" Oswald looked up with sleepy yet expectant eyes.
"Well, I don't really celebrate it but it's still fun" Victor answer honestly.
"Oh yea... you're uh..." Oswald mumbled out, clearly still not free of the alcohol's effect.
"Jewish?" Victor offered.
"Yeah that one...you do the Hanukah" Oswald smiled like he'd just cracked the code.
"I'm not practicing, I'm only Jewish by blood" Victor responded with a chuckle.
"My mom used to say practice makes perfect..." Oswald declared before bursting into tears once more and wailing, "I miss my mom!"
Victor pulled the trembling mess into his arms, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. After a moment or so the sobbing calmed down to just sniveling.
"I think you need some sleep now, Birdy" Victor suggested.
Oswald nodded as he crawled into Victor's arms, allowing himself to be picked up once again. Once in the bedroom Victor laided the now barely conscious man down on the plush sheets. Carefully he removed all the clothes on Oswald leaving him in just his boxers before tucking him into the blankets.
"Can you stay please...I want you with me" Oswald whimpered, how was Victor means to say no to such an pleading request.
"Of course I can stay" Victor smiled before stripping all his extra layers off as well.
Once they were both snuggled up under the covers Oswald finally felt like maybe he was growing around his grief. Maybe one day the hole wouldn't feel so insermountable after all.