Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You want to tell me why you’ve got a visitor?” Harvey hissed, grabbing Jim’s arm.

Jim had only just taken a step inside the GCPD. He tried to look towards his desk, but Harvey was blocking his view.

“If he starts shooting in here again,” Harvey continued, “it’s your ass on the line this time.”

Again.

Jim’s hand started to go to his holster but he stopped himself. “What visitor?”

“You know what, Jimbo? You really attract the weird ones.” Harvey shook his head. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think I preferred Penguin.”

Jim frowned. He was having a hard time picturing who Harvey would object more to.

Jim pushed past Harvey, his eyes went to his station, and there was his answer.

Victor Zsasz was sitting on his desk. Not perched on the edge like a regular person, but sitting cross-legged in the center. When he spotted Jim, he seemed to perk up, straightening his shoulders and twisting his face into an unsettling smile.

Harvey clapped Jim on the back. “Get rid of him. And make it fast.”

Jim had every intention of doing just that, as he strode towards the assassin.

“I brought you a gift,” Victor announced once Jim was within hearing range.

Jim noticed that nestled in the crook of his legs was—of all things—a bottle of milk.

“What do you want, Victor?” Jim demanded. “And get off my desk.”

“If you wish, Jim.”

Jim frowned at his tone. There was something off about it, as if there was some hidden meaning, a joke perhaps—possibly at his expense.

Victor unfolded himself, all long dark limbs and sinewy motion, and slid off the desk. He held out the bottle.

Jim made no move to accepted it. “What is this?”

“I already said, a gift. To replace what I took at your apartment.”

“I don’t want any milk.”

“It isn’t polite to be ungrateful. Not when someone goes out of their way to be nice to you.”

“What’s this about? Did Falcone send you?”

“Falcone didn’t send me. I chose to come.”

“You chose to?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Jim.” Victor shook his head. “Besides, you’ll need to get used to this. You’re going to be seeing a lot of me.”

Jim stiffened. “Why? You keeping tabs on me?”

“Of course not.” Victor grinned, and it was predatory, it made the hairs on the back of Jim’s neck rise. “I’m courting you.”

Jim opened his mouth to counter the threat he’d been bracing for, only for his words to evade him. He barely reacted as Victor pushed the bottle into his hands.

“I’ll give you time to adjust.” Victor tipped his head toward him. “Until next time, Jim. Don’t forget to give the bottle back to me when you’re done.”

“What the hell was that about?” Harvey asked as Victor slinked out of the precinct.

“I’m not sure.” Jim shook his head to clear it.

“Well, what did he say?”

Jim handed the bottle to Harvey. “Milk delivery. Enjoy.”

It took Harvey two hours to pry it out of him.

“Zsasz?”

“Harvey—”

“Yep, I was right, I preferred Penguin.” Harvey scrubbed his hand over his eyes before giving Jim a look. “What is wrong with you that makes you attract all these bad guys? I mean, it’s one after another with you. Nygma, Penguin, Tetch, and even Barbara ended up—”

“Don’t talk about Barbara.”

“Fine, but you’re clearly doing something wrong. And Zsasz is bad news. I mean, besides the obvious, look at the guy. He’s got to be into some really freaky shit. Can you imagine the kinds of things he’s been fantasizing about doing to you?”

Jim swallowed. Actually, he had been thinking about that ever since the word “courting” had been dropped on him. Zsasz seemed like he was into the same sort of kinky things that Barbara was into—only tenfold.

“Next time I see him,” Jim said, trying not to sound as uneasy as he felt. “I’ll tell him I’m not interested.”

“And I’m sure he’ll take that so well.”

“He has a code of honor.”

“You’ve said that. But all I know is I don’t want to see my friend chopped up in Victor Zsasz’s freezer while wearing vinyl underwear and pierced where—”

“That’s never going to happen.”

“But—”

“I can handle it.” Jim’s tone was gruffer than he’d intended. But maybe that was for the best, he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “There’s no reason to worry.”

“Fine.” Harvey threw up his hands. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jim, however, worried.

#

Jim woke to the smell of something cooking. Toast maybe.

He was lying on his living room couch and there was no light other than the green glow from the clock on the cable box.

It read: 5:27am.

From the kitchen, he could hear the popping sizzle of something being prepared in a skillet, and then a whisper of fabric—a footstep. An intruder.

Carefully he slid his gun from beneath the cushion. He got to his feet, keeping low.

In the faint light from the window, he could make out a silhouette by the stove.

“Who’s there?” Jim demanded.

“Jim,” Victor said his name warmly. “It’s so nice to see you’re up.”

Despite the uncomfortable encounter earlier, Jim felt some relief at the recognition of the voice. It was always easier to have a plan once he knew who he was dealing with. But even if some of his tension was fading, he didn’t lower his gun.

“Having a midnight snack?”

“Grilled cheese. I brought my own ingredients this time. I didn’t know if you’d have Velveeta.”

“You always cook in the dark?”

“Your fault. You went to sleep in the living room, so I couldn’t turn the light on without waking you. You really ought to use your bed more often.”

The patronizing lilt to Victor’s voice made Jim want to smack him, but he ignored the impulse, and instead found the switch on the wall.

Victor squinted slightly in the sudden light, but seemed otherwise unperturbed. He flipped the sandwich over in the skillet.

It was disturbing to think how long he must have been inside his home before Jim woke up.

Slowly, Jim lowered his gun. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Did you want pickles and mayo on yours?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Victor tilted his head to look at him. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“You know I’m not.” He wasn’t. Weirded out maybe, and a little concerned about some of Victor’s more intimate expectations, but not frightened.

“Good, because I like that about you.” Victor smiled, and Jim was startled at how proud it seemed, as if he really did just…like him. For a moment, Jim was touched.

But then he steeled himself. “I’m not interested, Victor. Find someone else.”

Victor went still, his expression unreadable, and Jim readied himself in case he attempted some form of retaliation. Victor was a tough fight, one he had to keep on his toes with, but Jim had bested him before, he could do so again.

But Victor didn’t attack, instead he merely picked up the sandwich, directly out of the pan—with his fingers.

“What are you—use the spatula.” Jim just barely stopped himself from snatching the sandwich out of his hands.

Victor wasn’t acting as if he was in any way being burned, although he had to have been. His attention remained on Jim, and whatever it was he read in his reaction seemed to make him oddly pleased.

Jim forced himself not to think about it. “We’re not compatible,” he insisted.

“We’ll see.” Victor took a bite of the sandwich, but only Jim winced.

“And you can’t break into my home anymore.”

Victor didn’t seem particularly bothered by the command, which made Jim think he wasn’t taking it seriously.

“Do you want me to clean up before I leave?” Victor asked, indicating the counter with his free hand, before he took another bite of the sandwich.

“Last time you didn’t even put away the milk.”

Victor nodded, as if simply agreeing was an appropriate response.

Jim sighed. It was too early for this. “No, I’ll clean up. Just go, and take your sandwich stuff with you.”

Victor considered him thoughtfully as he finished eating. Once he was done, he wiped his hands on a dishrag and opened the fridge.

“You don’t have any milk.” Victor looked surprised, and Jim felt a completely irrational stab of guilt.

“It’s at work.”

“Alright, I’ll come by to pick up the bottle later then.”

Jim decided he would leave it with Harvey and do his best to be on assignment throughout the day.

“Fine.”

Victor smiled at him. “See you later, Jim.” As he left he passed close, and Jim could smell the lingering scent of buttered toast, pickles, and cheese, and it really was a more appealing combination than he expected.

If Jim didn’t think it would be the worst idea ever, he might have been tempted to change his mind and ask Victor to stay and make him one. His mother used to use Velveeta too, but never with pickles or mayonnaise, and a part of him was curious what it was like.

“Goodbye, Victor,” he said instead.

As soon as the door was closed again, he bolted it. Not that it had done any good the first time. He needed new locks. Or a new home.

Jim’s stomach grumbled in the silence and he cursed.

Chapter Text

Jim’s plan to leave the precinct and be out for the day hit one major snag: Victor was waiting for him when he arrived. “Later” apparently had only meant a few hours.

This time at least Victor wasn’t sitting on his desk. Instead he was standing by the entrance talking to—or rather being chewed out by—Harvey.

“So, you can take your freaky games, and find other freaky game lovers like you, and all your creepy—”

“Hi, Jim.” Victor smiled at him, completely unfazed by Harvey.

“Hello, Victor.” Jim shot Harvey a questioning look. “Harvey?”

“Harvey is giving me a list of rules,” Victor said, and he began to count on his fingers as he named each item. “I’m to leave. To never come back. Not to subject you to any ‘freaky games.’ Which includes: tying you up, punishing you, purchasing any type of—”

“Alright, I get the gist,” Jim interrupted quickly. He felt his face heat and he cursed himself for it. Victor was watching him closely, and he didn’t want to give him the impression that he actually wanted those things to happen to him. “But none of that is relevant.”

Jim shifted his attention to Harvey and continued, “Victor just stopped by to get the milk bottle from yesterday.”

Harvey gave a skeptical look that, unfairly, seemed to include both of them.

Jim did his best to ignore it. “The sooner he gets it the sooner we can get to work, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go—”

“There isn’t any reason for Harvey to be scared,” Victor said.

“I’m not scared.” Harvey’s face scrunched up, as if the very thought was distasteful. “It’s perfectly reasonable to want to have my buddy’s back.”

“I wasn’t finished.” Victor’s voice had dropped, and despite his prior words, Harvey appeared unsettled.

Jim knew he shouldn’t find that funny, not when Harvey was only looking out for him, and he did his best to hide his amusement.

“I don’t want to do any of those things to Jim,” Victor continued.

“You don’t?” Jim said, before he caught himself.

Victor shrugged. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I would with someone else.”

To Jim’s surprise, he felt slightly insulted that he wasn’t included on Victor’s list of potential playmates. Victor had said he wanted to court him after all, so he’d assumed that involved some level of attraction. But this was Victor, so maybe it didn’t.

“But.” Victor shifted so he was directly addressing Harvey now. “Jim doesn’t seem interested in letting me do anything to him. Maybe that will change, maybe it won’t.”

“It won’t,” Harvey answered, very certainly, for Jim.

“If Jim does want to experiment, he can let me know. Or if he’d rather only do those sorts of things to me, that’s fine too.”

Jim inhaled sharply. He hadn’t expected that.

Victor ignored the way Harvey was sputtering and turned back toward Jim, “So, the bottle is…” He pointed towards the hall leading to the break room with unsettling accuracy. “That way?”

“You’re not allowed back there,” Jim said quickly. The conversation was making him uncomfortable, in more ways than he wanted to examine. Any reason to escape was appealing. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Excuse me if I find it hard to believe,” Harvey said before Jim could make his exit, “that Mr. Kills-People-For-A-Living, doesn’t want to hurt anyone.”

Victor stared at Harvey for a moment, his expression completely unreadable, before something seemed to click.

Jim doubted that meant anything good. He opened his mouth to derail whatever it was Victor was going to do to unnerve Harvey next, but he wasn’t given the chance.

Victor dropped to the ground, as if he were doing a push up, and placed a light kiss on the toe of Jim’s shoe.

Victor tilted his face upward, and when he spoke his voice was somewhere between a purr and a growl, “Your service is appreciated, Jim.”

Jim froze, his breath stuck in his lungs. One of Gotham’s most deadly assassins had just—had just…

“Get out!” Harvey lunged at Victor, but Victor evaded him, springing lightly to his feet and out of reach. “Get out of my precinct!”

Victor gave a quick nod in Jim’s direction. “Goodbye, Jim.” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, and Jim wasn’t certain, but he thought it was a smirk.

Jim didn’t respond, but his eyes stayed on Victor until he was out the door.

“We’re going to make sure he never gets near you again. We’ll file a restraining order, we’ll—”

That snapped Jim out of it. “On Zsasz?”

“Well, it’s better than just shooting the bastard.” Harvey pulled off his hat to yank his hand through his hair before putting it back on again. “Probably.”

Something occurred to Jim, and he laughed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and then he laughed some more.

“What?”

“He didn’t get his milk bottle,” Jim said. “He’ll be back.”

“We’ll mail it to him.”

“You got an address?”

Harvey glowered. “If you keep coming up with excuses, I’m going to start to think that you want to see him again.”

Jim was startled by that. “You know I don’t.”

Harvey didn’t seem convinced.

#

Three days went by without a sign of Victor.

Harvey was delighted.

Which made sense. It was better not to have a known assassin lurking around the precinct.

Jim didn’t feel any differently—at least not in any amount that counted—but even so, Victor had stood out, even in Gotham, and this felt like a missed opportunity to learn more about him.

But today, Jim didn’t have any time to spare for his curiosity. A shipment was coming in this evening that was going to be the object of dispute between two, if not three, criminal factions, and it was going to take every available officer to avoid this turning into a bloodbath. Jim needed to keep his focus.

Which was why he was here, searching the office of an old warehouse that an anonymous tip swore would contain the missing paperwork needed to make a conviction on this bust stick.

Harvey had insisted on riding along, even though he’d sprained his ankle and was stuck waiting in the cruiser. Jim hadn’t given more than a token protest. It was better to get him out of the precinct for a while since the anticipation for tonight was starting to make him rattled. He needed to be kept busy.

It only took a few minutes to locate the paperwork, which was where the caller had said it would be, and Jim had nearly finished bagging it up, when he heard a scuff on the floor behind him.

He spun, seized the intruder by the shoulders, and shoved him against the wall.

Victor grunted at the impact, his eyes dark, mouth slightly parted. He didn’t look at all upset that Jim had caught him. In fact, he looked thrilled.

It occurred to Jim that the only reason Victor’s footsteps would be able to be noticed, would be because he wanted them to be.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Jim growled, before another thought came to him. “Unless—Were you the one who called in the tip?”

“No,” Victor said, his voice as singsong as ever. “I was following you.”

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I have information you’ll want.”

“What information?”

Victor’s eyes swept down to Jim’s chest and back up again. “What if I was willing to give it in exchange for a kiss?”

Jim’s gaze dropped, involuntarily, to Victor’s lips, and before he caught himself he’d licked his own. The hint of a smirk on Victor’s face brought him back to his senses.

“I’d refuse.” Jim squeezed Victor’s shoulders, pressing him harder against the concrete. He leaned in closer. “Name another price.”

Victor’s breath caught and his eyes darkened. Apparently, Jim’s attempt to intimidate him had had the opposite effect. Victor looked like he was debating just taking the kiss, or maybe even reversing their positions and pinning Jim to the wall…or the floor.

“You’d be a lot of fun to play with,” Victor said, his tone deeper.

“You could try.”

Victor grinned, and for a moment Jim thought he was going to after all, but then Victor closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as his body became loose and pliable in Jim’s grasp.

He was keeping his word, letting Jim be in control.

Victor tilted his head back, drawing attention to the pale expanse of his throat. His eyes were still closed, and there was something intriguing about being the recipient of such a show of trust from the assassin. He had no doubt that Victor could still defend himself if he needed to, but Jim would be able to get a hand around his throat or a solid blow in first.

Or a kiss.

He was surprised to find he didn’t hate the idea.

Jim shook the thought from his mind. “So, what’s the information?” he demanded.

Victor’s eyes opened, and he seemed to return to business easily enough, even if he was perfectly content to stay in Jim’s grasp.

“Aubrey James’ nephew was kidnapped.”

Jim frowned. “When?”

“Mm.” Victor appeared to think about it, but only for a second. “Around lunch time.”

Jim glanced at his watch. It was a quarter past three. Any number of things could have happened to the kid since then. He bit back a curse.

“How do you know about this?”

“That,” Victor cocked his head to the side before continuing his sentence. “Isn’t important.”

“And what is important?”

“Where he’s being held. There will be a lot of guards, so call for backup.”

“Sure. Give me the address.”

Victor frowned at him, all too perceptive. “You can’t go by yourself.”

“I won’t be alone. The address.” Jim watched Victor’s eyes narrow, and he continued before he could argue further. “Harvey will be with me.”

“He’s on crutches.”

Jim wasn’t even going to ask how Victor knew about that, not when the answer was only likely to upset him.

“There isn’t anyone else. Every available unit is already tied up.” Normally Jim wouldn’t have trusted anyone outside the force with that sort of information, but his instincts told him it would be alright.

Victor looked away, and Jim could see the indent where his teeth were worrying at the inside of his cheek. After a long moment, he looked back.

“I will loan you my services.” Victor made a motion with his index finger as if he were about to make a very important point. “Without charge.”

“That’s—”

“A gift of considerable value. Definitely more than I meant to spend on you this early on.”

Caught off guard, Jim huffed in amusement. He tried to hold it back, but he couldn’t help it and a chuckle escaped.

Victor tensed, and his tone became more determined. “I’m the best in my line of work.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Jim felt Victor relax at the praise. “Although maybe you shouldn’t be bragging about that to a police officer.” Jim took a moment to appraise Victor, not that he could read much, but he was starting to pick up little tells. Like the slight tension in his jaw that said he was nervously awaiting Jim’s answer to his offer, because it did matter to him. This wasn’t just an act.

“Why me?” Jim asked, and he wasn’t just talking about police work anymore. “I’ve had it on good authority that I’m kind of boring.” Barbara had certainly thought so, and he’d heard it from others often enough.

Victor’s expression intensified, much the way it did whenever his professionalism was questioned. “No. You’re not. I know boring, and it’s not you.”

Jim felt a completely irrational swell of pride at that, and quickly tamped it down.

“But for my reason.” Victor paused, although he didn’t look away, and when he spoke again, he didn’t stumble over his words. It was as if he’d given this a lot of thought. “When you were my target, I kept wanting to make it sporting. Announce my presence, give you a heads up.”

“I appreciated that.” There was a hint of wryness to Jim’s voice, but in truth he meant it. He had noticed that Victor had been unexpectedly fair in his pursuit. It had been something he’d wondered about.

“At first, I thought that was just something to be overcome. But, then I decided that maybe not wanting to kill you was a good thing.”

Jim snorted.

“So, will you accept my offer?” Victor asked.

“Think you could incapacitate instead of kill, when possible?”

“Of course. It’s always intentional when I kill.”

“Fine. You can come.” He was probably going to regret this. “Now, you got that address?”

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

In the car. Jim winced.

Oh, Harvey was going to love this.

Chapter Text

“This is insane,” Harvey said for the eighth time since Jim and Victor had gotten into the cruiser with him. “We should go back to the precinct.”

“You want to be the one to tell the mayor we left the kid out there?” Jim said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“What kid?” Harvey said. “Phil James is nineteen years old. And trouble. And he’s got one of those rich brat, you’re-not-fit-to-lick-my-boots attitudes. Those kidnappers are doing his uncle a favor.”

“Harvey—”

“No, this is insane. You’re insane.” Harvey glanced at where Victor was sitting in the backseat and scowled even more. “Both of you.”

Jim checked the rearview mirror to see Victor’s response to that. Not only did he seem unfazed, but when he noticed Jim looking at him, he waved.

Jim barely stopped himself from waving back.

Harvey groaned. “I rest my case.” He fell silent, but only for a moment before he added, “Well, you’re not dropping me back at the precinct. I’m staying in the car—with the keys—in case things go south.”

“OK,” Jim agreed, even though he hadn’t been headed towards the precinct. He knew Harvey well enough to know he’d insist on coming along—well, at least once he gave up on trying to make them go back.

They didn’t have far to go. According to Victor, Phil was being held at an abandoned foundry that was only a few miles from the warehouse where Jim had retrieved the paperwork.

When they arrived, Jim parked beside the empty guard shack and Victor slid out of the car as soon as it came to a stop.

Jim passed the keys to Harvey. He expected to be given a long warning speech about the likelihood of Victor turning on him, but instead Harvey just looked resigned.

“Well, at least his little crush on you means he’ll have your back. Someone has to.” Harvey glanced down at the brace on his ankle, it was brief, but long enough to be a tell.

Jim was careful to pretend not to notice.

“You don’t think it’s a trap?” he said instead.

“No,” Harvey admitted. “Just a terrible idea. And you’ve officially lost the right to ridicule my dates ever again.”

“I’ve never ridiculed your dates.”

“That’s not the point. Just…don’t take all day, alright?”

Jim understood how he felt. He wouldn’t want to be stuck waiting behind while his partner potentially went under fire either.

“We’ll be right back.” Jim gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. “No need to worry.”

“Who’s worrying?” Harvey rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky this foot is injured or I’d kick you with it.”

Jim grinned. “See you in a few.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Jim stepped away from the car to join Victor, who’d already scouted out the shack.

“There’s no look out,” Victor said, motioning for Jim to follow him inside.

Jim nodded. “I only have one set of handcuffs, but I can borrow—”

“I don’t need those.” Victor gave Jim a look he couldn’t quite read before he added, “I always carry zip ties.”

“Right.” Of course, he did. Jim was glad Harvey wasn’t present for that revelation.

“This hatch,” Victor said, pointing to a round panel sticking out of the floor, “allows utility access. We can reach the target from there.”

Jim crouched down to inspect the wheel that worked as the mechanism for opening the hatch, but before he could do anything, Victor’s hands were already on it.

It spun easily as if it had been recently oiled, and in an instant the passage was open. For a moment, they listened for signs that anyone nearby had heard them, but all was quiet.

Victor shifted, and from his body language it was clear that he expected to take point, to be the first in the line of fire while Jim followed behind him. He was probably used to doing so when working with those who hired him, but Jim didn’t need that kind of protection.

Jim slid quickly onto the ladder, ignoring the look of disbelief that Victor shot him before his face disappeared out of view when Jim dropped to the concrete floor below. Despite his haste, Jim wasn’t reckless. He was careful to move quietly, and he checked his surroundings for hidden dangers or motion while he waited for Victor to join him.

Victor was composed when he turned to him, but even though his voice was pitched low to avoid giving away their position, it was still noticeably tight when he spoke.

“I have training in neutralizing these situations,” Victor said.

“So do I.”

Victor stiffened. “That’s not the same. I’ve had years of—”

“I beat you.”

“Once.”

Jim was amused by his tone. “Depends on how you count.”

Victor had that look again, like he wanted to do something with Jim but he didn’t know what.

Jim decided he wanted to find out. “In fact, the first time we met, if your objective was to—”

Jim was silenced by Victor’s gloved finger across his lips.

“Don’t push.” Victor tapped lightly.

Jim seized the front of Victor’s jacket and yanked him to him.

Victor hissed and his hands shot up as if to break Jim’s hold, but before they made contact he stilled. Slowly his hands drifted to rest on Jim’s shoulders.

It was only when Victor smiled at him that Jim realized he was doing so as well, and that he had been for quite some time.

“You pulled,” Victor pointed out.

It took Jim a moment to realize what he was referring to, and when he finally got it he snorted.

Victor pressed into him, his fingers tracing a pattern on Jim’s jacket.

Jim’s eyes flicked to Victor’s lips. They were pale but looked enticingly soft—and from the hitch in the other man’s breath, Jim didn’t think he’d have any objections if he tested that theory.

“We need to find Phil James,” Jim said, to remind himself why they were here.

Victor gave a curt, professional nod, but he allowed his hands to trail slowly down Jim’s arms before dropping them to his sides.

Jim let go of him and stepped back. He watched as Victor readied a weapon and moved to check beyond the bend in the tunnel.

And just like that, Victor had successfully taken point.

Jim bit back a curse, but decided to let it go—for now—as he readied his own weapon.

When Victor motioned it was clear, he moved to stand opposite him. The tunnel ahead only had a short empty stretch before it came to another corner.

“After the turn,” Victor said, “there’s a boiler room that will have four or five guards. The target will be in a room further up on the right, and there will be at least two more guards with him.”

Jim repressed the urge to ask Victor to explain how he knew that. It could wait until after they’d secured the area and had Phil safely in their custody.

They moved quietly along the tunnel. The doors were laid out just as Victor had said they would be, but no sooner had they paused before the first door, when a guard stepped out of the second one.

He spotted them instantly.

Victor sprinted forward to silence him, but before he could get to him, the man was already shouting an alarm. In seconds the rest of the guards would come pouring out of both rooms, and they’d be overwhelmed. It would be a bloodbath.

Unless Jim could come up with a way to stop them.

He rushed to the first door, ducking to the side to avoid any shots as he pulled it shut. Ignoring the shouts from inside, he wedged his baton in the door handle. He didn’t have time to find something sturdier, and he watched anxiously as the handle began to shake as it was tried from the inside. It seemed to be holding though, so he turned his back on the pounding and the threats as he turned to where Victor had been.

The tunnel was empty.

Not knowing where else he could have gone, Jim raced to the next opening. He just barely managed to force himself to slow down long enough to look inside before he barged through the door.

To his relief, Victor appeared unharmed, he was finishing attaching zip ties to the last of three men that were hogtied on the ground. Phil had been bound to a chair with duct tape, with a strip over his mouth as well. Everyone was alive.

Victor smiled when he saw Jim. “Nice job with the door. That was quick thinking.”

“Sure.” Jim took a breath, and precisely because the kidnap victim hadn’t been the first one on his mind, he forced himself to check Phil first. It was his duty after all.

“I’m Detective Gordon with the GCPD, we’re going to get you somewhere safe.” Jim holstered his gun so he could remove the duct tape from Phil’s mouth.

Phil winced and made a small noise of distress as the tape was pulled free, but as soon as he could speak his tone was demanding. “Do you know what they were about to do to me?”

Jim was used to fear manifesting in a variety of ways in victims, and anger at having been powerless wasn’t uncommon, although it never made his job any easier.

“I’m going to cut you free. Hold still,” Jim said as he took a knife from his belt. “If you have any injuries I need to know about them.”

“Those bastards said my uncle didn’t believe that I’d been kidnapped. They said he demanded proof.”

Jim noticed some bruising on Phil’s forearms as he freed them, but it didn’t look serious.

“Do you have any major injuries?” Jim repeated.

“They were debating what part of me to cut off! Can you believe—”

Victor bent down and seized the front of Phil’s shirt, putting their faces only inches apart.

“Jim asked you a question.” Victor pronounced each word slowly and with care. “For some reason, he is concerned with your wellbeing. You should appreciate that.”

Phil’s eyes widened. “What?”

Jim pulled Victor away from Phil. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Let’s see, I believe it’s an interrogation method…” He tilted his head as if trying to remember the exact words, although it was clear he was enjoying himself. “It involves two cops. One good, I think, and—”

“You’re not a cop,” Jim scolded him, not that it had any effect, and he refused to return the smile Victor was giving him, but Victor seemed undaunted. “And you’re not supposed to use it on the victim.”

Victor shrugged. “Not used to dealing with those.” Despite the admission, he didn’t look any less pleased with himself.

The only reason Jim didn’t roll his eyes was because he thought it might reduce Phil’s confidence in them. Instead, he crouched down beside Phil again to finish cutting through the tape on his ankles.

“Is he crazy?” Phil asked, sounding worried. “He knows who I am, doesn’t he?”

“He does, you’re Phil James, Aubrey James’ nephew.” Jim kept his hand on Phil’s arm as he got to his feet, just in case he was lightheaded. “Are you able to walk on your own?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. They were going to hurt me, but they didn’t yet.” Phil’s eyes strayed to where Victor was checking the tunnel beyond the door. “Did my uncle hire you?”

“No, just responding to a tip off.”

Phil looked at him in disbelief. “And they only sent two of you?” He peered around as if he expected to see more officers lingering behind them.

Jim decided he didn’t want to answer that line of questioning. “C’mon, let’s get you down to the station.”

Phil came willingly, and Jim had to admit that while he didn’t approve of Victor’s methods, it had made the kid more cooperative.

“Time to go?” Victor asked.

Jim nodded, and Victor stepped quickly through the door.

He told himself it was only because he was keeping watch over the victim, that he was letting Victor lead the way down the tunnel.

Chapter Text

“We’ve got three men restrained in the tunnels, another four or five trapped in a room,” Jim announced to Harvey as soon as he was in hearing range of the cruiser. Victor and Phil were right behind him.

“Well, hello to you too,” Harvey said, but he looked visibly relieved that they’d returned in one piece.

Which was good, he was going to need to be calm for what Jim had to say next.

“We’re going to need a van.” Jim watched the expressions flicker over Harvey’s face as he considered the number of suspects, the lack of room in the cruiser, the unavailability of any sort of backup, and finally reached the conclusion that Jim had already drawn. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.”

“No.”

“Harvey—”

“It would make more sense for me to stay behind.”

“You can’t climb down a ladder on that ankle.”

Unable to deny that Jim had a point, Harvey glared at him as best he could, but as always, it came across as more of a squint.

“Then who’s going to drive?” Harvey asked finally.

“I could drive,” Phil said. “I mean, I don’t have a license, but I’ve seen my driver do it often enough. It’s not like it’s hard.”

Jim twitched, but managed to keep his reaction down to a brief censoring look. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“I can help,” Victor offered.

“Actually, that’s what I was going to ask.” Jim turned to face the man who a week ago he would have thought he was crazy to trust with his keys, let alone the safety of a kidnap victim and his partner. “Would you mind driving Harvey and James to the station?”

“That’s not what I was offering.”

Jim frowned at the refusal, but before he could ask why not, Victor continued.

“I can have my crew take the prisoners to the GCPD.”

Jim hesitated. It wasn’t exactly by the book, although he could write it up as a citizen’s arrest, he supposed. It would also make it faster for him to get the evidence that he’d taken from the warehouse earlier filed away for tonight’s bust. But there was one thing that still didn’t sit right with him.

“Also,” Victor said, holding up a hand like he was making a pledge. “You have my word that they will be delivered to the station, safe and sound.”

While Jim found Victor’s earnestness appealing, that hadn’t been his biggest concern.

“It’s fine with me,” Harvey said, adding his own two cents. “Let them bring the suspects down to the station. We’re stretched too thin as it is.”

Which was true, but Jim still wasn’t ready to commit. “How long would it take your crew to get here?”

The question seemed to give Victor pause, as if it was something he didn’t want to answer.

Jim suspected he knew why. “That first room could break open at any moment, the tunnel isn’t safe for one person for too long.”

Annoyance flashed over Victor’s features, but Jim was prepared to stand his ground against the incoming tirade over Victor’s ability to handle himself.

But then Victor’s irritation seemed to vanish as quickly as it had appeared. He looked away, his teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek as if he were considering something.

Eventually his gaze fixed back on Jim. “They’re already here.”

Jim felt his brow crease. “You contacted them? When?”

“I had them scout the area before we got here, then I had them stay in case backup was needed.”

Jim’s frown deepened. “Why would you take the risk of just the two of us handling this, when your team could have given us aid?”

“It seemed…” Victor went completely blank. “Nice.”

“Nice?” Jim’s confusion faded as everything slid into place. “You wanted to be alone with me.”

“To experience working on the same team.” Victor paused, and then, as if he felt his statement was incomplete, he added, “Although you do make a worthy adversary.”

“This is so unprofessional,” Phil said, just loud enough for them to hear.

Victor tensed, and Jim placed a placating hand on his arm. Victor glanced down at it, frowning, as if he was confused as to why it was there.

Jim pulled it back quickly. To hide his embarrassment, he moved to open the back door of the cruiser.

“Time for you to get in,” he told Phil.

Phil did as he was told, mumbling something under his breath that sounded like “finally” as he went.

Jim ignored him, shutting the door before turning to face Victor.

“You can go ahead and contact your crew, but there’s one thing I want to know first.”

“Sure,” Victor said, although he was tense, as if he sensed this question was important.

“How much would today’s services—for you as well as your team—have cost if I’d hired you?”

“Hm, reconnaissance, recovery of a kidnap victim, threat of moderate fire, extra care to avoid fatalities…” Victor continued counting silently on his fingers, before he finally looked up and shrugged. “You won’t want to know.”

“I take it I’m not a cheap date then?”

Victor’s eyes lit up at Jim’s choice of words, before they narrowed slightly and began to scan his features, as if he thought Jim might be teasing him.

“You’re not,” Victor agreed, hesitating for just a moment before adding, “but I am.”

Jim snorted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“If you want proof…” Victor shrugged, but there was something off about the way he did it. It was almost too casual, as if he wanted his next words to seem less important than they actually were. “You could buy me dinner.”

For about three seconds, Jim had no response at all, but then he said, “Alright.”

Victor’s reaction was immediate, he seemed to puff up as his lips parted into a wide grin, and even though it showed far too much of his teeth as always, Jim found it was becoming almost… Well, almost endearing.

“You pick the place,” Jim continued.

A notebook small enough to fit in the palm of his hand materialized from Victor’s pocket. He quickly wrote down an address and passed it to Jim.

“As soon as I get everything taken care of at the station,” Jim said, pocketing the paper. “I’ll send you a text. If it’s too late we can do it tomorrow or—”

“I’ll be up.”

Jim nodded. “See you then.”

As Victor began to stride back towards the guard shack, he made a small gesture, a flicker of fingers by his head. At first Jim thought it was meant for him, but then he began to hear movement in the distance—cloth rustling and weapons being holstered.

It must have been the signal to recall his crew. Absently, Jim wondered what the signal for “shoot everyone in sight” would have been. He shook his head to drive that thought away and got back in the driver’s seat of the cruiser, accepting the keys from Harvey.

Having apparently heard everything, Harvey leaned over to whisper in Jim’s ear, “Say, ‘the weather’s nice’ if he’s threatening your family to make you do this.”

“Couldn’t I just tell you, since we’re whispering? And Victor isn’t here to listen anyway.”

Harvey groaned. “We should have just shot him when he first showed up at the precinct.”

Jim did his best to suppress his amusement as he shifted the car into drive.

#

When Jim arrived at the diner, Victor was already standing in front, and even in the calloused streets of Gotham, passersby were giving him a wide berth. He’d changed his clothes, and Jim recognized the lightweight black jacket with shiny round buttons immediately—it was the same one Victor had worn when he’d tried to kill him.

For a split-second Jim was unnerved, but then he got it. It was about the same thing now as it was back then.

His trepidation fading, Jim walked towards the other man.

Victor didn’t wait to be approached, but met Jim halfway across the parking lot.

“Hello, Jim.”

“Victor.” He watched as Victor unconsciously smoothed the lines of his shirt, and it prompted his next words automatically. “You look good.”

Victor looked pleased at the compliment. “Only my best for you, Jim.” His tone was a little wry, but Jim was fairly certain he meant it.

Victor started to turn towards the entrance, only to stop, as if suddenly remembering something. “You look good too.”

“Thanks.” Jim didn’t actually look any different from normal, although he had gone home to change into a suit that didn’t have dust and sweat from the events earlier clinging to it.

The diner was a generic, inexpensive, breakfast-is-served-twenty-four-hours-a-day kind of place.

They got a booth in a corner, and wasted no time in looking over the menu.

Jim ordered one of the only non-breakfast things listed, a Rueben with a side of onion rings. Victor, meanwhile, ordered half the items on the kid’s menu: chocolate chip pancakes, mac 'n' cheese, a fruit cup, and another grilled cheese sandwich. Even though the sign said twelve and under, the waiter didn’t say a word.

Jim was less surprised than he probably should have been.

“No pickles or Mayo?” Jim asked.

“I like the way I do it better.”

“It looked good.”

Victor seemed to swell slightly with pride. “I can make it for you again.”

They continued to talk as they waited for their food, although mostly they fell into an easy silence. Jim had a tendency to let whoever he was with carry the conversation, which was fine, but there was something to be said about sharing a meal with someone who was just as inclined to enjoy the silence.

Eventually the waiter brought their orders. The Rueben was good, but after a few bites, Jim set it down.

“I didn’t bring your milk bottle,” Jim said.

Victor looked at him for a moment, as if he were trying to figure out if Jim was apologizing or not. Finally, he shrugged.

“You’re very forgetful,” Victor said, teasing. Jim liked the way his voice became softer when he did that.

“I didn’t forget.”

Victor’s brow creased. “I don’t follow.”

“I took it back to my apartment before I came here. So, if you want it…” Jim shrugged, he could do that too.

Victor stared at him.

Jim started to smirk, pleased that he’d managed to surprise the assassin, but before he could say anything further, Victor was coming up out of his seat, bracing himself on the table and making the many plates rattle, as he leaned forward and kissed him.

People were staring, but Jim’s pulse was rushing too hard to care. He grabbed the front of Victor’s coat, pulling him in tighter as he kissed him back.

Victor moaned against his mouth, sucking Jim’s bottom lip between his own for a moment before he began to pull away. Jim released him and Victor dropped back down into his seat.

Victor looked down at the assortment of plates that he’d somehow managed not to put an elbow in, and frowned.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered so much.”

Jim snorted, but he reached out and put his hand over Victor’s, his thumb lightly tracing the other man’s knuckle.

Victor stared down at where their hands met, as if even after the kiss he was surprised that Jim wanted to touch him. Or maybe it wasn’t the touch that caught him off guard, but the affection.

Jim decided that he didn’t want to leave any room for doubt about his intentions.

“That’s what boxes are for.”

#

They both had cars, but wordlessly decided to take Jim’s. He suspected Victor’s motivation was the same as his own. He wanted to be able to look over and see Victor, his form dark and long in his seat. He wanted to steal kisses at traffic lights, and he wanted Victor’s hand to remain on his thigh.

At Jim’s apartment, they barely managed to get Victor’s stack of boxes—apparently he didn’t like it when his food touched—into the fridge, before they were on each other again.

Jim was in the process of undoing the snaps on Victor’s suspenders, when Victor spoke.

“I like you.” It was earnest. Sweet.

Jim huffed, amused at how simply that was said, as if they were in grade school again. The directness was appealing though.

“I like you too.” Jim kissed him, and it was gentler than the ones they’d shared in the car and at the diner.

When Jim had thought about what it would be like to go to bed with Victor, he’d always imagined it to be a heat of the moment thing. One of them would seize the other and shove him down hard onto the nearest flat surface. Tongues and teeth would clash, and just enough clothing would be shoved aside to create access. Then it’d be over and done. An itch scratched.

But Jim was beginning to question if that was what he wanted.

Victor grabbed him and his hands went to Jim’s belt, drawing his attention away from his thoughts.

He’d figure out exactly what they were doing later, because whatever it was, it was working fine for right now.

#

Afterwards, they lay side by side in Jim’s bed, leaving some space between them as they cooled off.

Jim knew he should offer him water, or something stiffer—although something told him Victor probably didn’t drink—but he didn’t feel like getting up just yet.

He wondered if Victor was the cuddling type. He suspected he wasn’t. He glanced over at him, and Victor appeared to be lost in thought. Before Jim could decide if he should ask about it, Victor spoke.

“If you want me to, I could return in the morning and make you that sandwich.” And then, just in case Jim didn’t know what he was talking about, he added, “The grilled cheese with pickles and Mayo.”

Jim started to tease him about how he appreciated that Victor was bothering to ask this time before coming into his place and making him breakfast, but then he realized what Victor was assuming.

“Or you could just stay,” Jim offered.

“Sure.” Victor shrugged, and while the gesture wasn’t any different than usual, there seemed to be an air of fondness directed Jim’s way.

“Want something to drink?”

“I’ll get it myself. Momentarily.” Victor rolled onto his side and draped himself half over Jim, proving one of his earlier theories wrong.

Jim decided to test the other one. “I have beer, scotch, water—”

“Milk is fine.”

Of course it was. Jim hid his smile by pressing a kiss onto the top of Victor’s head. But then another reason why Victor may have meant to leave occurred to him.

“Do assassins usually share a bed with others?”

“Hm… If they sleep lightly and their reflexes are fast.”

“Has that been necessary for you in the past?”

Victor paused. “Do you really want to talk about this right now?”

He had a point. “Guess not.” Jim wrapped an arm around Victor and just enjoyed how it felt to pull him in a little closer.