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Before Jim Gordon, things were easy.
They were bleak, downright fucking dreary really, but they were at least somewhat sane.
Then he arrived and with him came a gallery of crazies unlike any Gotham had ever seen. People were attached to balloons, ancient serial killers came back out to play, the Falcone family that had stood for decades crumbled in a matter of weeks.
All because of Jim Gordon. Jim Gordon—White Knight of Gotham, cop extraordinaire.
And the Penguin.
That’s a bet Harvey would have lost, to be honest. He would have put money against the little twerp, he was sure as soon as he saw the sniveling little creature that Fish would crush him under a stylish stiletto.
But he lived. He lived, because squeaky clean Jim couldn’t put a bullet in his head. Though he knows now that the worm planned it that way, he knew “the last honest cop in Gotham” wouldn’t just execute him. Jim would never manage to be that morally flexible (or that smart).
But Harvey has other reasons to wish Jim had gone through with his kill and they have everything to do with Jim himself. Because now Harvey has seen what Penguin is capable of, and seen that he has some sort of obsession with Harvey’s partner.
Not that the obsession isn’t mutual.
Those two have hopelessly entangled themselves with one another, a Gordian knot (and Jim says he’s not funny) that he doubts anyone can undo at this point.
Penguin’s obviously half in love with Jim, all of Gotham can see that. He gives Jim leeway, information and freedom that no other cop (or anyone for that matter) could enjoy. Hell, Harvey himself gets away with talking to him in a way he’d never dare speak to Falcone, an extent of the grace he grants Jim. Harvey thinks he sees Jim as some kind of dashing hero—not that he isn’t (a hero that is, Harvey isn’t fucking calling him dashing even to himself), but you certainly wouldn’t expect the city’s King of organized crime to think so, or to care.
But he does. The little prick protects Jim in a way. Genuinely seems to want to be his friend. Penguin is brilliant and brutal and frankly, a little fucking bitch most times—but not with Jim. With Jim he turns from the city’s top crime lord into some school boy with a hopeless crush. It makes no damn sense, really, for Gotham’s most notorious to have a thing for its most stick-up-the-ass cop (Jim is a lot ), but somehow he does. They’re both complementary opposites: a black and white self-righteous asshole and a criminal who embraces all the shades of grey. And black. And red. And fucking green now, god, this city—anyways.
His lovesick act makes it easy to forget how dangerous he is, something Harvey is constantly regretting. He has a knack for pissing people off when he is respectful, if Jim ever completely gets off Penguin’s good side he’s absolutely screwed. It’s just so hard to remember that the pathetic little shit has a higher body count than seasoned serial killers.
He’s like Nygma in that way, distinctly off but with the impression he wants to fit in, wants to be liked. He wasn’t surprised to see those two team up. He was surprised however, to see its effect on Jim.
Suddenly the Penguin was all on Jim’s mind. He acts like a scorned ex whose lover moved on too soon—even though his actual ex moved on and Jim couldn't bother to care. And Barbara, crazy or not, was a fine dame. You would think Jim to be hurting a little but he threw himself into Lee and it took him no time at all to make a mess of that too.
Cops don’t make good boyfriends, and Jim is all the proof you need. Though, Harvey will admit that at least half of that had to be just Gordon himself. The man just doesn’t know how to operate with other people. In fact, his most stable relationship is his twisted, fucked up partnership with the now disenchanted Penguin. (Excluding Harvey, of course) The longer he’s around Nygma the more his favor for Jim seems to fade—it’s not subtle. The torch he’s carrying is dying out and Harvey can tell Jim is pissed about it.
Penguin’s feelings about Jim were always clear—what Harvey can’t get a grip on is Jim’s feelings for the bird. He puts on a good show of indifference on occasion, but then he goes and gives himself away every now and again. A prime example: Galavan. Jim could have shot Penguin then and there but he didn't, he wasted time trying to talk him down. He actually helped him kill the asshole, though Harvey doubts he’ll ever get a confession of that from his partner. He knows though, could see it in the kid’s eyes afterward. Frankly Harvey doesn’t know how he missed Jim sparing Cobblepot in the first place. He’s painfully obvious.
Before they’d been passive. Jim even seemed reluctantly fond of Penguin in some cases. The change though has been drastic.
Jim’s been tolerant of Penguin, he’s been dismissive, occasionally polite, now he’s just angry . The longer Penguin goes without making eyes at him in that pitiful, puppy-dog way of his the pissier Jim seems to get.
Harvey won’t call it jealousy because the thought of Jim wanting to be as close to Penguin as Nygma makes him want to barf, he’ll delude himself into thinking Jim just misses the hero worship.
But he’ll wonder, whenever they see Penguin now. When Jim gets too deep into the other’s space, when rough hands linger too long on slim shoulders, when they stare at each other in the defiant way, practically sharing their breath, what it is Jim feels. He’ll watch them do their dance, both trying to lead and wonder if that now bitter love really was unrequited.
He’ll wonder if friends were all they ever really were, or if there’s more Harvey has missed about his partner.
Then he’ll drink himself stupid, so he doesn’t wonder anymore.