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Language:
English
Series:
Part 16 of Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed
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Published:
2017-07-16
Words:
900
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
16
Kudos:
170
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5
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1,704

Restless

Summary:

“If you'd told me even a year ago that Penguin one day would so readily share his wealth,” said Lucius, pensively, “I wouldn't have believed you. I've seen them together just like you have. It's jarring.”

“Reliable sources—Selina, mostly—inform me they've taken control of the club,” Bruce continued, cutting Alfred off before he could speak. “Kean and Galavan did something to anger Cobblepot.”

“You speak as if that green-obsessed nutter had anything to do with it,” Alfred scoffed. “Penguin's always been in charge, and we'd better hope for the city's sake he stays there.”

“While I value your advice,” Bruce told him, “I'm not so sure. If Nygma was telling the truth, it was Jim who handed him over to the Court. He's reckless, but he seemed guilty he needed rescuing.”

Notes:

Picks up after Settling and makes reference to WYFIR #29.

Work Text:

Seated at his desk, impatient to get back to note-taking, Bruce listened patiently as Selina rambled.

“Fish seemed to like the greenhouse for what Penguin's proposing,” she concluded, aimlessly wandering the room. “Not that popcorn on the floor and dirty dishes everywhere else was ideal, but I guess she got the gist. Hey, it only took me about twenty minutes to walk here. We're practically neighbors now. Come see us! Now that the plumbing works, the place isn't half bad.”

“What makes you think you'll be satisfied there?” Bruce asked with mild curiosity. “That you'll stay?”

Selina hooked her thumbs in her pockets. “Penguin pays great money. It worked out before.”

“It's not your relationship to Cobblepot that I question,” Bruce admitted, fingers twitching on his pen.

Selina rolled her eyes, striding over from the fireplace to place her fingerless-gloved hands on his desk.

“I hate to break it to ya,” she said, “but last time I checked, we weren't doing so hot. Bridgit and Ivy and me? We grew up together in the streets. They're practically my family, remember? Or do you forget what it's like to have that?”

“Family,” Bruce echoed, considering the coded insights he'd been jotting on his latest nocturnal venture until she'd slipped through the window. “After your mother's betrayal, I suppose that's...positive.”

“I'm not gonna lie,” Selina sighed, reaching to pat him on the cheek. “They're both pretty cute.”

Bruce nodded at her, finding that he didn't have any difficulty digesting this piece of information.

“I've proved unreliable,” he said reasonably. “More often than not, I've brought you a world of grief.”

Selina stuck her hands in her pockets, chewing her lip. “Me and Bridgit kinda...go back a little. With, y'know—stuff. Me and Ivy, that's complicated. More for me than her, because kinda I don't get—”

“Ah, charming,” interrupted Alfred, striding into the room with Lucius Fox at his heels. “Miss Kyle.”

“Don't get your knickers in a twist,” Selina sighed, nodding toward the window. “I'm on my way out.”

“That's just as well, because our dinner arrangements are set in stone,” Alfred insisted. “For three.”

“Surely we could set a fourth place, Alfred?” Bruce asked, strongly implying it wasn't a suggestion.

“Nah, I'm good,” Selina said, already halfway out the window. “Bridgit's cooking. See ya, Foxy!”

“It seems to me I have Penguin's unlikely consort to thank for the nickname,” said Lucius, deadpan.

“Yeah, well,” Alfred sighed, casting him a glance that Bruce recognized as fond, “it'll grow on you.”

“Last time I checked, Gotham's criminal contingent hadn't bothered to give you one,” Lucius replied.

Bruce rose from his desk and made his way over to the nearest window, staring out into shadow-cast drive. He lingered until Selina was no more than a shadow herself, watching as she reached the gate and climbed it.

“Not to press the issue,” said Lucius, coming to stand beside Bruce, “but this past weekend—”

“Is over and done,” Bruce said, turning as Selina melted into the dark. “I'd rather not discuss it.”

“If Nygma said anything, tried to get inside your head,” Lucius went on, insistent, “we need to know.”

“Co-signed,” Alfred admitted from behind Bruce, setting a hand on his shoulder. “You'd tell us, right?”

“There's not much to tell,” Bruce sighed, closing the window. “We mostly kept each other company.”

“Last time he kept you and me company,” said Lucius, with a hard edge to his voice, “in Arkham—”

“Last time he kept you company,” said Alfred, with reproach for Nygma and concern for his colleague-turned-lover, “it involved bombing a chess tournament and holding you at knifepoint.”

“He knew the Shehecheyanu,” Bruce said. “He sang to keep my mind off our imprisonment.”

“I won't deny that he's still just a human being,” Lucius allowed, “and a deeply troubled one, at that.”

“With any luck, Penguin will keep him occupied,” remarked Alfred, snidely. “If not, the second he gets in another heap of mischief, I have no doubt that Detectives Gordon and Bullock will nab him.”

Bruce shook his head, drawing the heavy drapes across the window. He turned to face them, frowning.

“They'll fight hard to stay out of Arkham. They'll fight even harder to maintain a hold on their empire.”

“If you'd told me even a year ago that Penguin one day would so readily share his wealth,” said Lucius, pensively, “I wouldn't have believed you. I've seen them together just like you have. It's jarring.”

“Reliable sources—Selina, mostly—inform me they've taken control of the club,” Bruce continued, cutting Alfred off before he could speak. “Kean and Galavan did something to anger Cobblepot.”

“You speak as if that green-obsessed nutter had anything to do with it,” Alfred scoffed. “Penguin's always been in charge, and we'd better hope for the city's sake he stays there.”

“While I value your advice,” Bruce told him, “I'm not so sure. If Nygma was telling the truth, it was Jim who handed him over to the Court. He's reckless, but he seemed guilty he needed rescuing.”

“Let's hope the time-out did you both a spot of good, yeah?” said Alfred, warningly. “Watch yourself.”

“Would it be gauche of me to point out that our dinner is getting cold?” Lucius interjected with chagrin.

“Not at all,” Bruce said, sparing one last glance at the notes on his desk as he led them out. “Let's eat.”

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