[It’s not unusual for Oswald to turn up - like a bad penny, many would say - with blood freckling his face and soaking the cuffs of his pressed sleeves. The predator in him is still young, still struggling to master the art of feeding with grace. What is unusual, decidedly less Cobblepot, is the way he shows himself into the bathroom and stands there, on the other side of the fogged-up glass. Staring raptly at Jason’s silhouette with the calm, calculating patience of a creature that has staked its claim many times over, and will again. He waits; he can afford to. Until he’s done waiting and gives the shower door a rap of the knuckles in what is more of an announcement than a request.]
...I thought I smelled you slow-cooking in here.
[He smiles, wearing blood on his lips like a crude smear of lipstick. Whatever charm it might've had is undermined by a mouthful of teeth that would be right at home among the horrors of the deep sea. Oswald comes in peace tonight. Even if he also comes with room for dessert.]
[The night had been a long one. Not especially difficult, but just a never ending parade of petty bullshit. Muggings, pick pockets, small time theft. It was just little thing after little thing and it had all worn him down to the point that by the time something even remotely threatening happened, his energy levels were in the red. He'd ended up taking a knife in an attempt to get a better angle on the would be rapist, the blade catching him in one of the very few places on his person that wasn't covered in armor.
It hadn't stopped him, of course. The woman had still gone down, bleeding and unconscious in a literal pile of garbage. Normally, he would have waited up on a rooftop for the lights and sirens to make sure she didn't end up on the business end of someone else's knife....but he was bleeding and it was cold and he was tired. He called it in and dropped a beacon for O to track, but then he'd called it a night and headed back to....
Well, not his apartment. He wasn't sure if he was ready to call Cobblepot Manor 'home' yet, but he'd been staying there almost exclusively since all of this started. It made the most sense, in the long run. It had the room to house both of them comfortably, it was out of the main city, the surrounding landscape had a 'reputation' that kept most people away. Honestly, the only reason Jason was dragging his feet about 'officially' moving the last of his things in was pure pigheadedness.
But the shower attached to the bedroom he'd been sleeping in? Fucking. Magical. Waterfall showerhead with a detachable wand. Built in shower bench that made washing off Red Hood so much easier on nights like these. Storage for medical supplies to take care of both patrol injuries and tend to his bites. Two different lighting options, bright as the fucking sun for when he needed to stitch himself up or perpetual twilight for when lights just hurt but he still needed to get clean.
Honestly, the shower alone almost made up for the jumpscare of glancing over to find Oswald watching him through the fogged glass.]
JE-sus fuckin- Os, one of these days you're gunna do that and I'm going to shoot you. Again. Fuck.
[He huffed, scrubbing his hands over his face before shaking his head to fling water against the glass.
His thigh throbbed.
Ah.]
Yeah, you probably got a whiff of the stab.
[He paused, considering his next words carefully. On one hand, it should cross so many lines and be uncomfortable as hell. On the other...it was just swirling down the drain. And it wasn't like Oswald hadn't seen him naked before. The man had lost any since of personal boundaries when it came to him, after all.
Finally, he just shrugged a little to himself and reached out to nudge the glass door open a crack.]
It's still bleeding if you want some. It's on my thigh, though. And I'm not turning the water off.
[Oswald’s gaze slides down Jason’s sinewy body with no more apology than he felt after startling him. It’s hungry, but sexless. A wolf assessing a cut of meat.]
Ooh. [He sucks in a breath, his face screwing up in a sympathetic wince. But he doesn’t so much as blink, saliva pooling under his tongue as he tracks a river of diluted blood running down Jason’s leg.] That is quite the juicy one. Who would I be to refuse such generosity?
[Wetting his lips, he slants Jason a look from under raised brows. Seeking permission is a formality, of course. A human custom the vampire is willing to humour, now and again, like clothing. He sheds his three piece suit unceremoniously, tossing his leg brace and compression socks on the floor with the rest. The heavy, syrupy scent perfuming the air is all the invitation the vampire ever needs.
Curling clawed fingers around the edge of the door, Oswald slips into the steam and seals them in. He’s warm and fed, still half hard from the hunt. But not so warm that the water temperature isn’t a shock. Hissing softly, he eases himself under the spray, inch by inch. And once fully under the showerhead, he goes still, letting the water pound his shoulders and drench him thoroughly. His eyes drift shut, expression softening, transported. It feels good to thaw. Nerves stir, muscles tingling as they loosen under his skin. He draws his deepest breath in days, even weeks, and lets it out, lashes fluttering as he slowly comes back to himself.]
...This is nice.
[He says, over the steady slap of water on tile. He sweeps a curtain of hair from his eyes, looking up at Jason.]
Now, where were we? [Sniff.] ...Oh. Right.
[Grinning sideways at his company, Oswald perches on the bench and beckons him over with a crook of his fingers.] Let’s have a closer look at you, shall we?
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From Memes
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...I thought I smelled you slow-cooking in here.
[He smiles, wearing blood on his lips like a crude smear of lipstick. Whatever charm it might've had is undermined by a mouthful of teeth that would be right at home among the horrors of the deep sea. Oswald comes in peace tonight. Even if he also comes with room for dessert.]
no subject
It hadn't stopped him, of course. The woman had still gone down, bleeding and unconscious in a literal pile of garbage. Normally, he would have waited up on a rooftop for the lights and sirens to make sure she didn't end up on the business end of someone else's knife....but he was bleeding and it was cold and he was tired. He called it in and dropped a beacon for O to track, but then he'd called it a night and headed back to....
Well, not his apartment. He wasn't sure if he was ready to call Cobblepot Manor 'home' yet, but he'd been staying there almost exclusively since all of this started. It made the most sense, in the long run. It had the room to house both of them comfortably, it was out of the main city, the surrounding landscape had a 'reputation' that kept most people away. Honestly, the only reason Jason was dragging his feet about 'officially' moving the last of his things in was pure pigheadedness.
But the shower attached to the bedroom he'd been sleeping in? Fucking. Magical. Waterfall showerhead with a detachable wand. Built in shower bench that made washing off Red Hood so much easier on nights like these. Storage for medical supplies to take care of both patrol injuries and tend to his bites. Two different lighting options, bright as the fucking sun for when he needed to stitch himself up or perpetual twilight for when lights just hurt but he still needed to get clean.
Honestly, the shower alone almost made up for the jumpscare of glancing over to find Oswald watching him through the fogged glass.]
JE-sus fuckin- Os, one of these days you're gunna do that and I'm going to shoot you. Again. Fuck.
[He huffed, scrubbing his hands over his face before shaking his head to fling water against the glass.
His thigh throbbed.
Ah.]
Yeah, you probably got a whiff of the stab.
[He paused, considering his next words carefully. On one hand, it should cross so many lines and be uncomfortable as hell. On the other...it was just swirling down the drain. And it wasn't like Oswald hadn't seen him naked before. The man had lost any since of personal boundaries when it came to him, after all.
Finally, he just shrugged a little to himself and reached out to nudge the glass door open a crack.]
It's still bleeding if you want some. It's on my thigh, though. And I'm not turning the water off.
no subject
Ooh. [He sucks in a breath, his face screwing up in a sympathetic wince. But he doesn’t so much as blink, saliva pooling under his tongue as he tracks a river of diluted blood running down Jason’s leg.] That is quite the juicy one. Who would I be to refuse such generosity?
[Wetting his lips, he slants Jason a look from under raised brows. Seeking permission is a formality, of course. A human custom the vampire is willing to humour, now and again, like clothing. He sheds his three piece suit unceremoniously, tossing his leg brace and compression socks on the floor with the rest. The heavy, syrupy scent perfuming the air is all the invitation the vampire ever needs.
Curling clawed fingers around the edge of the door, Oswald slips into the steam and seals them in. He’s warm and fed, still half hard from the hunt. But not so warm that the water temperature isn’t a shock. Hissing softly, he eases himself under the spray, inch by inch. And once fully under the showerhead, he goes still, letting the water pound his shoulders and drench him thoroughly. His eyes drift shut, expression softening, transported. It feels good to thaw. Nerves stir, muscles tingling as they loosen under his skin. He draws his deepest breath in days, even weeks, and lets it out, lashes fluttering as he slowly comes back to himself.]
...This is nice.
[He says, over the steady slap of water on tile. He sweeps a curtain of hair from his eyes, looking up at Jason.]
Now, where were we? [Sniff.] ...Oh. Right.
[Grinning sideways at his company, Oswald perches on the bench and beckons him over with a crook of his fingers.] Let’s have a closer look at you, shall we?