the streets of gotham were slick with rain, the cold droplets tapping against your coat as you hurried through the dimly lit alleyway. the city never cared if you got drenched — it was cruel like that. but you didn’t expect the familiar clack of polished shoes to fall in step beside you so suddenly.

“hey,” came a low, slightly breathless voice. you looked up to see oswald cobblepot —your oswald— stepping beside you, his black umbrella unfurling with a practiced flick.

his pale face was faintly flushed, and his eyes held that sharp, calculating gleam, but when they settled on you, there was something softer underneath all the cunning.

“don’t tell me you’re planning to ruin that lovely coat,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, but with the unmistakable edge of concern.

oswald didn’t wait for you to answer; the umbrella was already arching over your heads, casting a small, dry bubble around the two of you. he leaned just a bit closer, his breath warm despite the chilly air.

“gotham’s a dangerous place — but a wet one is just as bad. you need protecting, and, well... i suppose it’s my duty to keep you from turning into a drowned rat.”

his words came out awkward, almost shy, but the way his slender fingers curled tightly around the umbrella handle said he was earnest.