A friend to the 'end' (Gotham fanfic)

[spankingfemme]

Happy Valentine's Day to me!! =D My delightful hubby and I worked out a fic idea where Jim decides to confront Oswald with the use of the term 'friend' and how that all plays out for our dear Oswald *evil grin* This is the 1st of at least four chapters that we plot bunnied, and he (ever loving husband that he is) wrote out for me! So please do enjoy... even if Oswald surely won't! LOL! I'm such a meanie! ;) *cackles*

Oswald often skirts consequences for his actions at every turn, but crossing Jim was a mistake especially when Jim decides to make a concerted effort to be a friend much to Oswald's reluctance to his definition thereof. WARNING! Contains non-sexual spanking! Takes place at the end of episode "Welcome Back, Jim Gordon"

 

 

Jim Gordon was seething. A fellow officer of the law, a dirt-bag but still a cop, had gone to his knees in sobbing apology to him, begging that he spare the his wife and child. The fear had been palpable. The very air hung with the sense of dread the other man had felt towards him.

Jim had never wanted that, and the very fact that it had happened turned his recent victory over a corrupt cop to ash in his mouth. He glanced up, taking in the sign above him, a stylized fish skeleton that declared the club to be Fish Mooney’s place.

Well, it had been Fish’s place, anyways. Last time he had visited he had found Oswald Cobblepot had claimed the place as his own, now that Fish was on the run from Oswald’s secret boss, Falcone. He entered and glanced around, noting that Oswald still hadn’t opened the place to the public yet, he and his chief henchman sitting at the far end of the club.

Oswald saw him coming from across the room and smiled as he stood, “James! So good to see you; my associate informed me that a package containing the evidence you needed had been delivered to you. Did you find the contents useful?”

Jim strode up to Oswald and stabbed his finger into the thin man’s chest, causing him to back up a step and alarming his thug, who stood up halfway before Oswald waved him off. “You’ve got some nerve talking to me like we’re best pals when you lied to my face like that.”

Oswald raised his hands in a docile gesture, “Please, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jim ground his teeth as he ran a hand back through his short brown hair. The way he clenched and unclenched his fists obviously unsettled the darker haired man, who took another step away from him. “Don’t play dumb with me; you told me that no one was going to get hurt.”

Oswald shook his head, “And no one was!” He smiled nervously, “My friend here just made some empty threats is all; he certainly wouldn’t have acted on them.” Oswald clapped his hands together like a person at prayer, “After that near-death experience where you saved my life James Gordon I have been a changed man; I wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Jim stared at him intensely for a long moment, and the silence saw a bead of sweat trickle down the side of Oswald’s pale face, “Fine.”

Oswald visibly released a sigh of relief and continued to smile at Jim in his odd way, “Now that you’re here though why don’t you have a glass of wine with us, or perhaps you are a bourbon man?”

James shook his head, “No thanks.” He paused, “There is something you could do for me, though. I would consider myself in your debt if you could.”

Oswald didn’t hide his excitement at the prospect very well, and he steepled his fingers, “Please, that’s what friends are for! How can I be of assistance?”

James stared at him for another moment before continuing, “I need a list of the cops in my precinct who are on the mob’s payroll, or the governors for that matter.” He lifted a finger as Oswald started to speak, cutting him off, “I want all of them, even the ones working for Falcone.”

Oswald licked his lips, “That last part is tricky, you see, Maroni is one thing, but if I play my cards against Falcone this early it could get … messy for me.”

Jim smiled at him, a tight, humorless smile, “Don’t worry, I just need to know who’s who, I won’t move against someone working with Falcone without being sure you’re clear. Trust me.”

Oswald still seemed timid to the idea, but he desperately wanted Jim to work with him, and if this was the only way, he could accept what risk came with it. He smiled as he thought on it; actually, this was all according to plan, and it couldn’t have gone better.

He held out a hand to Jim, “You have a deal, James! And I really must say it really is a pleasure to be working with you again…”

Oswald flinched as Jim squeezed his hand painfully during their handshake, “And no one gets hurt, of course. If I find out someone was even threatened with violence I’m coming back to arrest you, Oswald.”

Penguin pulled his hand and rubbed it as he did his best to assure Jim, “Of course, James. Do you want me to send my man by with the names?”

Jim frowned, shaking his head, “No. Having him approach me in the middle of the station was stupid; I’ll give you my e-mail.” James pulled out a flip notebook and scrawled his e-mail on it, handing it to Oswald.

Oswald took the paper, smiling widely, “Yes, that’s very wise; I’ll be sure to make use of this in the future.”

Jim nodded, “Good, remember; I need everyone, down to the last one.”

Penguin waved dismissively, “Of course! You’ll be hearing from me again very soon my friend!”

Gordon seemed to be satisfied with the assurance and stepped towards the exit, “See you soon, Oswald.”

Cobblepot nodded vigorously, “Oh, I do hope so; we always enjoy your visits, Detective.”

Oswald was still smiling as his thug stood and approached him. As soon as they heard the club door closed he spoke up, “Boss; you really gonna turn on Falcone like that? That’s… ballsy.”

Penguin waved his concern away, chuckling, “Oh my no; the Detective is a very naïve man. He doesn’t have any way to know if I’ve given him all the names he wants. I’ll just flag some unaffiliated dirty cops as working for Falcone and he’ll be none the wiser.”

His henchman smiled, “Yeah that’s smart boss. I should’ve realized you had this figured out; you want me to do that thing we talked about?”

Oswald nodded, “Indeed; make sure you keep it tidy.”

His thug nodded, “Will do.” The crony moved to the rear of the club, preferring to exit inconspicuously.

Cobblepot smiled to himself as he moved to leave via the front door. Yes, he supposed he did have it all figured out. It wouldn’t be too long before he had put himself at the very top.

Once the dust settled from the war waged by men who thought themselves his betters, he, Oswald Cobblepot, would be the most powerful gangster in all of Gotham. He would rise from the ashes and show them all who was the cleverest.

They would all realize too late that they had been deceived, and that every calamity had actually all been his plan, all along.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t see the shadow of the person standing behind the column next to the main entrance doors until Jim spoke up, “So I’m naïve, huh?”

Oswald froze with his hand still on the door as he turned to see Jim standing behind him, the other man’s arms crossed over his chest, “Detective! I-I didn’t realize you were still here…”

Jim simply stared at him evenly, “That’s kind of the point. You told your goon that you planned on sending me some false information…”

Penguin turned to regard him, “Oh that… I was just telling him that so he would stay in line; can’t have him knowing I plan to betray Falcone, you know, he’s paid help and I wouldn’t want to risk him turning on me.”

Gordon nodded, “I’m sure. There’s something you should know about me, Oswald.” He took a step closer and Oswald instinctively took a step back, bumping into the door, “I didn’t make it to Detective on charm alone; I’m pretty good at telling when someone is lying to me.”

Cobblepot smiled nervously, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean; I would never…”

Jim’s hand suddenly shot out, snatching Oswald’s bicep as the detective hauled him back into the club. “Enough games. I’m fed up with your greasy attempts to slide out from under everything you do.”

Gordon paused in the center of the club. He hadn’t actually planned out how he was going to interrogate Oswald; he only knew he was reluctant to use Harvey’s favored tactic of unlawful assault, “Your friend won’t be back will he? Should give us some time to talk…”

Oswald winced at Jim’s tight grip on his arm, “Ow… James, your overreacting… please, let me explain…”

Jim frowned, watching Oswald’s reaction and knowing that just talking wasn’t going to be enough. Cobblepot was going to lie until he was blue in the face. Something about the way Oswald whined as he held him and his reaction to the discomfort of his grip gave him an idea, though.

Gordon pulled Oswald over to the wall, where a padded bench offered what he was looking for. Sitting with his back to the wall, Jim hauled Oswald down hard, forcing him off balance so that he fell across Jim’s lap.

Oswald looked back over his own shoulder, a confused expression painted on his face as Jim grabbed ahold of his pants, ripping them down, “W-whoa! Wait… what are you doing?!”

Jim wasn’t going to have to explain what he was doing to the smaller man, though; they both knew what he was about to do. Panic played over Oswald’s face as he suddenly started kicking and swinging his arms, trying to worm out of Jim’s lap, “W-wait, wait!”

Gordon worked to hold the desperate man in place, eventually getting him into a vulnerable position where he held Penguin’s torso closely, wrapping his own legs around Oswald’s so that he was effectively pinned.

Being so helpless only seemed to escalate Oswald’s look of anxiety, and as he watched Jim’s hand raise into the air he quickly squalled out, “Stop! You can’t do this to me!”

Jim didn’t reply, but a moment later his hand came down hard on Oswald’s backside and words weren’t needed to convey the answer given. Cobblepot twisted and yowled in the other man’s lap, but Jim had a firm grip on him and he wasn’t going to be wriggling free.

In a torrent of sharp stinging slaps Jim rained pain upon Oswald’s exposed vulnerability and Penguin couldn’t stop the stinging tears from emerging in his eyes; tears of pain, yes, pain he had never before in his life felt, but even more so humiliation.

Oswald screamed at Jim, “I thought we were friends!”

Jim surprised him by replying, “Y’know, I’ve been thinking about that ever since you first suggested it. You have to know a cop like me and a seedy criminal little punk like you can only ever be friends if a few things change…”

Oswald gasped; he had been trying to put on a strong face but he had to face the music: he had no tolerance for pain whatsoever. Even as he struggled against it he felt the tears of his prolonged humiliation escaping his eyes and further damaging his already wrecked pride.

It didn’t help that every time Jim struck him he released a pitiful yelp often followed by a sad whimper. He didn’t want to make these sounds, he just couldn’t help himself; Jim had already crossed his rather low pain threshold.

“W-what change do you need; m-maybe we can talk about it?” He choked out, more than ready to make whatever deal was needed to end the awful scenario. He glanced back over his own shoulder and saw how ridiculous he looked sprawled over Jim’s lap and his face turned beat red with shame.

Jim recited his edicts with each swat; as if to emphasize his demands with threat of force should Oswald fail him, “First I’m going to need you to stop lying. Fess up, now.”

Oswald’s mind whirred as he tried to figure out how he could convince Jim that what he had said was the truth, but the repetitive sting that Jim continued to administer was more than distracting, and the longer it went on the less clearly he could think.

He need it to stop A.S.A.P. so after a few moments he went with the fastest recourse; the truth. “I’m sorry, I did lie! But you have to understand… Falcone w-would kill me if I b-betrayed him!”

Jim paused and Oswald went limp as he took a shuddering breath of relief at the respite, “Finally. I should’ve known this would work; you’ve gone your whole life without having to face consequence, haven’t you?”

Oswald hissed, offended, “I’m not some little kid! And I have paid dearly; I walk with a limp now because of Mooney!”

Jim shook his head sadly, “And you didn’t learn much for it, just like you didn’t learn when you nearly died by my hands. You had a chance to start fresh and what did you do? You came back to Gotham.”

Oswald thrashed around, still uncomfortably aware that Jim hadn’t released him from his grasp, pounding his fists into the soft leather cushions of the bench, “Gotham is my home; my mother lives here!”

Jim nodded, “Yeah, I can tell you care for your mom. And when you talked about us being friends, I think you even believed it. These things make me think there might be hope for you…”

Without warning he started to swat Oswald again, as the other man shouted his surprise and pain; Cobblepot noting that it felt much worse now, his posterior feeling raw as it did, each slap seeming to amplify the next.

Oswald was completely broken after only a few seconds of this, and he screamed with every ounce of his being, “A-and… and?! What m-must I do?! Please!!”

Jim stopped again and Oswald lay rigidly on his lap, still tensed for the next blow as he breathed in ragged gasps. “Get me those names, all of them. You want to be friends? Fine, we’re going to be friends whether you like it or not now, but I’m going to hold you to the same standards I hold all of my friends to.”

Oswald was weeping openly now, no longer able to keep his composure and no longer bothering to try. “You c-can’t tell me you treat all y-your friends like this!”

Jim shook his head, “No, if one of my friends did the things you did I’d probably beat the shit out of him more conventionally. Would you prefer that?”

Oswald went quiet and Jim continued, “You’re a special case, Oswald, so you get special treatment. I probably wouldn’t have gotten the idea if you weren’t such a brat…”

Oswald’s face darkened as he lowered his head, and Jim waited until they made eye contact again, “Don’t think I won’t do this again if you need it, but as long as you treat me like a real friend and don’t lie to me or try to use me, we can just put this behind us.”

Oswald burned with the need to get out of the humiliating position, so he nodded, “Alright… w-well noted.”

Jim released him and Oswald scurried to his feet, moving awkwardly to pull his pants back up. Penguin nodded towards the door, “I-I’d like it if you left now.”

Jim watched him for a while longer and stood up, Oswald flinching as he did so, “Alright. I’ll be waiting for that e-mail.” He reached out and squeezed Oswald’s shoulder, “I think we finally understand each other now.

The detective exited the building and Oswald jumped at the sound of the door closing. He still trembled all over and his heart still hammered away in his chest. What the hell just happened?