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Jim Gordon sits lazily in his worn sofa in his dark and dusty living room in his one bedroom apartment. It's 6:15 in the morning and the sun has barely risen. He sits there, sipping some tea he's obtained by a certain dark and brooding scamp of a person who tends to dress well and wear too many clothes. He grabs a piece of chocolate and lets it melt in his mouth. He gets up humming softly, rubs his face and paces around the apartment waiting for a certain someone to wake up.
His pacing leads him back to his room, which for some reason, had the only beam of warm, golden sunlight in the entire apartment. The light caresses the pillows and blankets that inhabit the large bed. Nestled in them was a young mobster sleeping soundlessly as the covers lifted and dropped at his breathing. Jim slowly slipped back into bed with him and nuzzled at the dark black hair that greeted his nose. The detective was bored and wanted his lover to wake up from the cocoon of coziness he created.
"Oswald," Jim said softly.
The gangster stirred slightly and continued sleeping. Jim thought it was pretty amazing how this, them, had ended up happening. He would always think about it every time he seen Oswald say or do something crazy. But Jim was the same, no matter how badly he did not want to admit it. Nowadays, he ponders the man known as Oswald Cobblepot more often. He had fallen for him. It was complicated, and it happened oh so naturally.
He stares at the long black hairs on the man's eyes; which he noted were totally too obscene for a man to have such pretty eyelashes. How they sit on his slightly high cheekbones that frame his angular face. So aristocratic his face is, Jim thinks. Oswald smells of Jim's sandalwood soap from last nights shower. He believes the sunlight makes Oswald look so innocent and sweet. He tilts his head up to look at other man's face. Jim loves the cute freckles that graces his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Jim seen freckles all over Oswald's body but the freckles on his face are what Jim loves the most. They stand out more. But of course they would. When graced with pale, alabaster skin, they are supposed too.
Jim loves his skin. How the marks he would leave on a pale canvas makes James Gordon an artist of a sensual kind. He notices the set of hickeys he left on the other man's neck and collarbone sort of resembled the letter "J". Maybe one day Jim will write his full initials on Oswald's skin.
"Oswald, wake up." Jim says again as he pressed a light kiss on Oswald's cheek.
"Hmmm...," was all the responds he got from the mobster. Oswald dug in a little deeper in the covers as he snuggled close to Jim's tank-covered chest. He heard Jim chuckle lightly and poked his head out to meet Jim's gaze.
"I want to go to the cafe for breakfast Oz, but you gotta get up."
"What time is it?" Oswald groused as he spoke with his eyes closed.
"It's 6:47 in the morning."
"Ughhnn, Jim...it's early!" He whined as he wiped at his face with a blanket-covered hand. Jim grabbed him at the waist and pulled him close.
"But Ozzy," he teased. "I want us to spend the day together. The earlier, the better." Oswald then opened his eyes, his cheeks rosy, his eyes bright and drowsy at the same time. He bashfully stares at Jim's deep blues and smiles. He slinks up for a quick kiss from Jim's lips and the detective blushes as he smiled.
"Okay," he says finally as he kisses Jim again and frowns at the taste of the man's lips. "Chocolate?"
"I ate some of the candies I got from Harvey." Jim smiled. "I got one hundred and twenty two of them in that box on the dresser."
"That's too many Jim! You are going to be eating them for weeks."
"Well, I wanted that many." Jim challenged while holding the mobster tightly.
"Why? That's such an odd number. A hundred and fifty is a solid amount." Oswald argued drowsily in a low voice.
"That's not as many freckles you have on the bridge of your nose," Jim said as he turned away slowly, turning a deep shade of red. Oswald eyes widened at that statement as he shifted from the covers. How closely have Jim been looking at him?
"W-what?"
"I dunno, you're just so pretty. I can't stop staring at you."
"So you counted my freckles?"
"I know it's goofy and weird, but I'm just so smitten with you-" Jim was startled by the lips that attacked his. Oswald's tongue plunged deeper to taste more of this chocolate that Jim ate. James Gordon who counted his freckles. The James Gordon who loves him.
"Oswald," Jim said quietly as stared at his lover with shining eyes.
"I couldn't even imagine having you as a lover but to know that you watch me so closely,...I can't believe this."
"Well, believe it." Jim insisted as he sucked and kiss Oswald's pale neck.
"It's 7:20, Jim. Do we have to leave the bed?" The smaller man said silkily as he straddled the detective.
"We can always order in," Jim said before they kissed once more. Spending the day in bed with Oswald and planting chocolate kisses on such a pretty man was a much better option.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some odd hours later...
"Jim?"
"Yeah babe?"
"It's 12:30 in the afternoon."
"Yeah?"
"I'm starving."
"Yeah, me too..."
"Let's go get food..."
"Okay," Jim said sleepily as he snuggled closer to his lover in the very warm blankets in their bed.
"Jim?"
"Hmm?"
"You have got to get off of me at some point."