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The Penguin and the Raven	By : AsylumWritings Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 500 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman/DC Comics, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Cover me with you
Over me under you
Pull me in to you
As one we lay entwined
For You, My Dying Bride
I woke to the sound of a raven out on my balcony, the guttural croak hitting my headache like a jackhammer. Rolling out of bed, I walked to the kitchen to grab some bacon from the fridge.
“Raven back again?” Molly asked, walking past and turning on the kettle. “Or is the bacon for a hangover breakfast?”
“Both.” I winced at all the sound around me. “I’ll be back in a second.”
I walked back into my room, sliding open the door. The raven was still standing on the railing, and I placed the bacon down beside him. I’d been doing this for months, but it had been a few days since I’d seen him last. He picked up the bacon and flew away with it.
Managing to pull on some clothes, I slowly walked back out to the kitchen, where Mol had apparently started cooking breakfast.
“I figured I’d cook for you, Bree. You look pretty awful.” She gestured for me to sit at the bench.
“I could honestly kiss you right now.” I sat down resting my head in my hands. “I didn’t even drink that much.”
“Maybe, but I’m guessing you were drinking rum, like you always do. We have this discussion every time you drink.” She laughed, handing me a coffee and some painkillers. “Take these. Breakfast will be a few.”
I did as I was told, watching her as she cooked, waiting for the pain to go away.
“Now, tell me about this guy.”
“He was nice. All we did was talk, and ask questions about each other. We didn’t go too deep, or ask about family really. He told me about his time in the British army, and I talked about my college years and work now. Then we just talked about interests.” I drank some of my coffee, trying to avoid blushing again. “Then he walked me home.”
“Did you kiss him?”
I shook my head. “He kissed me goodbye on the cheek, but that was all.”
“A proper gentleman. You definitely need one of those in your life.” She put down a plate with a bacon and egg muffin in front of me. “Eat up. I’m going out for a bit, but I’ll see you later.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you when you get home.” I settled down to eat watching as she left.
When the muffin thankfully didn’t make me throw up, I placed the plate in the dishwasher and headed to my room to have a bath. I spent an hour in there, feeling my headache slowly ease as the water cooled around me. Almost asleep, I jumped when I heard my phone ring.
Reaching for it, I saw that Oz was calling, so I answered right away.
“Morning.” His British voice came through the speaker. “Did you sleep well?”
“Pretty well.”
“Are you free tonight?”
“I am. What do you have in mind?” I leaned my head back against the edge of the bath.
“You mentioned how much you like art, and I thought we could go to that new exhibit on representations of Hell in paintings.”
I audibly gasped. “Oh, I heard about that! I’ve been wanting to go since it was announced.”
“So you’ll let me take you?”
“Yes, of course!”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.”
He heard the smile on her face when he suggested the art gallery. She’d sounded happy, but also a little surprised, like she hadn’t expected him to remember anything she’d said. Whoever she’d been with before had clearly left some scars inside her, and he found himself almost a little worried for her.
I was just finishing my makeup when I heard Molly get home. Quickly pulling on my dress and shoes, I walked out to her for help with my necklace.
“Look at you!” She took the necklace, doing it up for me. “Is Oz taking you out?”
I nodded. “To the art gallery.”
“To that show you wanted to see?” She turned me around, checking that I was good to go. “He must really like you. You look perfect for a fancy art gallery show. Am I expecting you home tonight?”
“I… don’t know.” I blushed.
“Well, let me know when you do. That way I can be sure you haven’t been kidnapped.” She pulled me in for a gentle hug, careful not to smudge my makeup.
“I will.” I felt my phone buzz with a message, checking it to find that Oz was outside. “That’s him. I’ll see you later.”
I walked downstairs and out, finding him leaning against the back door of a limo. He looked amazing, in a grey suit that was perfectly tailored to his slim frame. When he saw me coming, he gave me a big smile.
“Is this nice enough?” I asked, still feeling unsure. “I’ve never been to the Gotham Square Gallery, so I wasn’t sure.”
He nodded, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
Letting go of me, he opened the door of the limo and helped me inside. He slid in beside me, holding me close and shutting the wall between us and the driver. The feel of his thumb brushing the inside of my arm made my heart pound again.
“Thank you.” I whispered, looking up at him as the limo began to move. “I’ve never really had to opportunity for anything like this before.”
“Parents couldn’t afford it?”
“Parent. My mother left me with my father and took off somewhere. Dad raised me on his own. He had a good job, but living on one income, with a child, in this city is expensive. He made sure I was never without food or clothes that fit, but there really wasn’t anything extra for trips and things like that. We were very close, which made it harder when he was killed. I was twenty-two.” I went quiet, the memory of my dad hitting me a little hard as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Sorry, got a little lost in my mind there.”
“Don’t apologise, love. Family can do that.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Did your dad get you into art?”
“Yes. We used to paint together all the time.”
We soon arrived at the gallery, and he helped me out of the limo, not letting go of my hand. It was quiet in the exhibit, just a few people here and there. I felt a little like a kid in a candy store, but I held myself together. This was a really nice place, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself.
Then I saw a very familiar painting and I hesitated, trying not to cry. The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymous Bosch, the tag said.
“Is everything alright?” Oz asked, turning to me. He took my face in his hands, his eyes on mine.
I nodded. “This one… It was Dad’s favourite. He had a framed version of it… Sorry, I’m doing it again.”
“You really don’t have to be sorry, Bee. I like listening to you talk about your past.” He let go of my face, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Do you want to keep moving?”
“Sure.” I let him guide me around the gallery, from painting to painting.
He listened to her as she spoke about each painting and what she knew. Her voice had this sweet musical lilt, and he enjoyed hearing her speak. She walked ahead of him to another painting, and he took a moment to look her over, from the few stray hairs escaping her bun, to the way her dress sat perfectly on her body, pulling in at her waist.
As he wondered if she knew just how clever she was, she turned, noticing that he wasn’t beside her anymore. She gave him a beautiful smile and reached for his hand, pulling him back to her.
I gently pulled him behind me, leaning back against him. He wrapped his arms around me firmly, holding me close. We’d been at the gallery for a couple of hours, but it felt like only a few minutes. This was my element, and I had a lot to talk about. He seemed genuinely interested, asking me questions about what I knew and what I thought about everything.
“Is this the last painting?” I asked, quietly.
“Unfortunately yes.” He kissed my cheek. “But we don’t have to go home yet. We could go have dinner or get a drink.”
“That would be nice.”
We walked out to the limo, stopping before we got in.
“Thank you for this.” I turned to face him. “You really didn’t…”
He shook his head, silencing me. As he rested his hands on the sides of my neck, tracing my lips and jaw with his fingers, I felt my breath catch in my throat. Any worry I’d had about moving too fast with him went flying out of my head as he gently pressed me up against the side of the car.
And then he was kissing me, softly at first, then more urgently. Nudging my lips open with his, he deepened the kiss. He tasted like coffee and the bourbon we’d drunk in the gallery, and I felt my mind go blank as I melted in his hands.
After a moment, he pulled away, looking at me with a sly smile.
“We don’t have to go to dinner,” He whispered, sliding a finger under one of the straps of my dress. “We could go back to my place… order in… see what happens.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. While he spoke to the driver, I climbed into the car and texted Mol to say I wasn’t coming home.
Go get it, girl. I’ll see you tomorrow. She replied, almost instantly.
I dropped my phone in my bag as Oz climbed in beside me.
“Where are you living?” I asked, reaching up and undoing my hair.
“A hotel in Gotham Heights.”
I looked up at him in disbelief, but recovered quickly. That area was big money, like Wayne Family territory. When he’d turned up at the Red Lantern, I figured he had money, but I never thought it was that sort of money.
“So, not much of a drive from here then.”
“No, but long enough for me to do this some more.” He kissed me again, tangling his fingers in my hair.
He basically didn’t let go of me for the drive, his lips only leaving mine when we needed to breathe. It was amazing, like a surge of adrenaline kept passing between us.
He was living in the penthouse, which meant a longish lift ride. But finally we made it, and I looked around in awe at how big it was. He distracted me with kisses, gently backing me towards the bed until I hit the edge and we tumbled onto it. He caught himself before he landed on me.
Leaning down, he began to kiss my neck. I shuddered as he hit a sweet spot, a quiet moan escaping my lips. He softly bit that spot, and I gasped, digging my fingers into his back.
He watched her as she slept, lying on her front with her face towards him and her bare back uncovered by the sheets. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let a woman stay after sex. There was still so much he didn’t know about her, but he was certain that losing her father wasn’t what created this darkness he saw in her. No, she mentioned having had a rough few months, maybe that was what had caused it.
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The Penguin and the Raven