Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Victor Zsasz did not like many people.

Sure attachments wouldn’t help anyone who considered themselves a professional assassin, but then again, neither would enemies. Two sides of the same coin, both detrimental in the long run. But that of course didn’t mean he couldn’t form opinions about people. He liked people and he disliked people, though that ratio was pretty heavily skewed one way if he did say so himself. Though nothing ever went beyond an opinion - he’d gladly kill anyone with the right paycheck.

Victor liked the Penguin. The man paid him well, and treated his work with respect. He understood when to kill someone, and he understood what it meant to do so. He was smarter and more cunning than most gave him credit for, after all he didn’t work his way up to King of Gotham from Fish Mooney’s umbrella boy solely because of dumb luck. But more than just his work, he was good to them, his employees. Even if his emotions often hindered him, in Victor’s opinion, he valued and rewarded loyalty. Even while he was the head of Gotham’s criminal body, Oswald was about as good a boss as you could get. He respected that.

Victor, decidedly, did not like Edward Nygma. Something about the man rubbed him the wrong way, even if he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. He honestly didn’t get what Oswald saw in him, enough to make him chief of staff nonetheless - effectively his second in command. Though he could understand replacing Butch, Victor didn’t trust that man one bit after he’d somehow broken free of his conditioning. So on that front, he supposed he liked Nygma a bit more than Oswald’s last lap dog.

Still, it didn’t mean he trusted the man. Even after he’d finally gotten Oswald to see Butch’s disloyalty in a plan that had played out just as Nygma had promised him it would, he still hadn’t earned Victor’s respect just yet. Although, he could admit that his boss seemed happier with the tall freak around. Victor caught the man smiling to himself when he thought no one was looking, and casting longing glances at his other half when Nygma turned his back. Hell on the night they took down Butch, Victor saw how the two looked at each other after Nygma had almost been choked out. They were blind as bats if they still believed they were just friends, and everything left in him told Victor this wouldn’t end well.

But having Nygma around at least kept Oswald in check for the most part, and that, unfortunately, made him invaluable. Oswald seemed in varying states of depression since his mother had passed, which made him a little frustrating to work with at times. And somehow, Nygma managed to talk Oswald through the brunt of it, and even on the worst days at least get him functional. And if that meant that things got done, and Victor got work, and he didn’t have to send someone (or god forbid, go himself) to get his boss out of bed, then maybe he could tolerate having Edward Nygma around.

That is, until he swung by the manor one night to check in after a successful job, to find no Nygma to check in with. Odd. Nygma was a man who valued scheduling and routines, it wasn’t like him to miss something as simple as this. He was going to go, perhaps leave a note to confirm that the job was done, but something felt off. The manor was far too quiet - no Nygma, no Oswald, not even Olga was around. It bugged him.

So he wandered around the place, stopping in front of Oswald’s bedroom. He listened, there was definitely someone alive in there. He paused, considering that he may be about to walk into something intimate that he would immediately wish he hadn’t, but that’s not what it sounded like from the other end of the door. So he opened it, watching as Oswald’s teary eyes rose to meet his own. Great, where was Nygma when you need him?

“Go away, Victor.” Oswald snapped, even as his voice shook and he wiped at his eyes. “I would like to be alone right now.”

“Right…” Victor stepped in, closing the door behind him. Perhaps surprisingly, he wasn't especially fond of the idea of people killing themselves, and he could never be sure if Oswald would ever reach a point and snap - he’d rather be safe than sorry. The Penguin supplied most of his work at the moment, after all. “Where’s your friend Nygma?”

Maybe he’d been taken, maybe that’s what was making Oswald so upset. Oswald’s face crumpled - so he was on the right track with Nygma then.

“Ed is…” Oswald took a few breaths, looking down as some tears landed on the bedsheets below him. “He’s on a date.”

A date? No that wasn’t… something was wrong here. Nygma liked Oswald, he was sure of it.

“Ok… would you like me to kill him for you?”

“What, no!!” Oswald shouted, appalled. “If you even think about laying a hand on Ed, I swear to god Victor, I will-“

“Not Ed.” Victor held up a hand, almost placatingly. “His date. Would you like me to kill his date?”

“His…” Oswald looked puzzled for a moment, before realization dawned. He looked back up at Victor with a smile, though there was no happiness to be found within it. “Ed’s on a date with a woman.”

“That…”

That fucking lunatic, Victor wanted to say, but held his tongue. It probably wouldn’t go down incredibly well, and apparently it was up to someone to take care of his boss.

“I know.” Oswald smiled again, even while tears of heartbreak carved down his cheeks, laying back down in his bed and pulling the covers over him. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit. “Edward has found his one true love. Now go away, Victor.”

Like that was going to happen. Victor instead sat at the foot of Oswald’s bed, taking out one of his guns that’d gotten an annoying amount of dried blood on it. He took out a cloth, and began to clean it methodically.

“What are you doing, Victor?”

He heard from the lump on the bed.

“Cleaning my guns.”

“Can’t you do that somewhere else?”

“Do you want me to?”

There was no reply, and so Victor didn’t move. He stayed until Oswald’s breathing evened out and he fell asleep, while Victor cursed the name of Edward Nygma.

Chapter Text

Things only got worse.

Anyone could see it, but somehow Victor ended up being the one forced into picking up the pieces Nygma left behind. Oswald was doing less and less as mayor, and the Penguin was doing less and less as a crime boss, and Victor was getting less and less work. They were in a downward spiral, and soon somebody unsavoury would both take notice and take advantage.

Oswald’s leg was hurting more than usual, he wouldn’t admit it but Victor could tell. How he sat much more than usual, his limp was more pronounced and he used his cane more often when he did walk about. Even if it was just from his bed to the couch, Victor didn’t miss the small signs of pain in his face. And to make things worse, Nygma - seemingly the one cure - was showing his face less and less. Now he was all for a good betrayal, but even this was starting to piss Victor off. Betrayal only worked when one was aware of what they were doing.

The last straw came on Oswald’s late mother’s birthday, when Nygma was away for the weekend. It wasn’t like the man to miss a day like that, he must have forgotten. Which meant Victor had been cornered into doing what Nygma was supposed to be doing - playing caretaker with Olga and making sure his boss survived the day. That was too many kind words, and tears and ugh, hugs, for a lifetime, and Victor was getting sick of it. That wasn’t his job, this wasn’t what he signed up for, it was what Nygma signed up for. Even while the taller man was in Arkham, all Victor had to do to get his boss out of a slump was bribe (or threaten) the orderlies into giving them a phone call or a surprise visit. Now, Victor couldn’t even reach Nygma via cell phone.

This had gone on for long enough.

So for when Nygma would return the next day, Victor arranged a little chaperone for him. He wasn’t hard to track down - especially because of the little chip he’d put in the man’s phone. Nygma exited the building with a stupid smile on his face that made Victor want to shoot him, but he restrained himself. The man looked surprised to see him waiting outside with a car.

“Zsasz? What are you-“

“Nygma.” He gave a smile he hoped the other would see through. “Why don’t we go for a ride?”

He opened the door to the backseat of the car, his question not posed as one. At least Nygma was smart enough to read the subtext, and got in. The interior was black same as the exterior, harder to see blood and easier to blend in. It was also spacious while keeping close-quarters, with two benches of seats in the back facing each other. It was his go-to car for negotiations, and Nygma seemed to realize this from the look on his face.

He took the middle seat of the back row, so Victor took the middle seat of the row behind the driver. Nobody ever wanted that one, for whatever reason. Maybe it was because they would be travelling backwards, Victor didn’t know, and he didn’t care - it didn’t make a difference to him. He knocked twice on the metal separating the back from the driver’s side, and the car started. He studied Nygma’s face, though the man didn’t give much away.

“Why are you picking me up?”

A good first question, a sensible one - a logical one.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He leaned forwards, enjoying the way the taller man began to squirm and avert his eyes. So he was, on some level, scared of him. That was good. “I’m here to kill you.”

Nygma’s head shot up so fast, it was almost comical.

“What!? No, your wrong, Oswald wouldn’t-!”

“Relax, keep it together bean-stock, I’m messing with you.” He leant back, waving a hand in Nygma’s general direction. The other man eased, but not much. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Nygma brought his hands to his lap, nervously fidgeting with his cuff-links. Cuff-links Oswald bought him, if Victor’s memory served.

“Oswald wouldn’t send you for no reason.” Nygma almost blurted out, like fear was keeping him from asking too many questions. “So what was it?”

Victor smiled slightly, leaning back in his seat.

“How are you so sure he sent me?”

Nygma’s eyes widened slightly in realization, and Victor found he was enjoying this way more than he thought he would.

“You came alone.”

‘Bingo’, he mouthed, face settling back into a smile that wasn’t quite a smile. It had the desired effect as Nygma went back to fiddling with cuff-links.

“So then why…?”

Victor sighed dramatically, throwing his head back against the seat, lamenting.

“You’re way less fun than I expected you to be, I thought you were supposed to be good at figuring out riddles.”

“This isn’t a riddle, this is-“ Nygma cut himself off, taking a breath to calm his agitation. Victor watched him over his cheeks, head still tilted back. “Oswald is your boss and I’m closer to Oswald than you are. You and I don’t talk often, so whatever you’ve come to me about must be about him. He didn’t send you, you care about your job and I care about- is he in trouble?”

Finally, the penny drops. He lifted his head back up to look at Nygma properly.

“Maybe I judged you too soon.”

“Is he alright?”

Huh, the urgency in his tone almost got Victor to believe that he cared about Oswald.

“Shouldn’t you know that?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Right, with your girlfriend.”

Nygma looked away, something in his gaze that Victor couldn’t quite catch before it was gone. Was it guilt?

“Look… if something’s happened to Oz, then-“

“Oz?”

“Oswald.” He corrected quickly, adjusting his glasses. “If something’s happened to Oswald-“

“Nothing has happened to Oswald that you haven’t done yourself, Nygma.”

“My… self…” Back to the cuff-links, “I haven’t done anything. If he wants to believe the world revolves around him, fine, but I’ve finally found someone that-“

“Oh?”

“Will you stop interrupting me?!”

Victor raised eyebrows that he didn’t have, while Nygma breathed heavily. Getting mighty worked up about this little topic, wasn’t he? He let the silence sit for far too long to be comfortable.

“You done? Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt you again.” Nygma crossed his arms, not losing the glare that’d settled over his face. “Right well, I can get to the big question then. What day was yesterday?”

Nygma tilted his head, his annoyed look turning into a smug one.

“Do you think I don’t know the date?” Victor shrugged, challenging his expression. “Yesterday, it was-“

Nygma paused, and Victor knew he realized. Penny drop number two.

“Do you understand how you fucked up?”

Nygma rubbed a hand over his face, muttering a few curses under his breath.

“Sorry, I know I should have been there.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Nygma dropped his hands back to his lap, resuming his constant fidgeting. He whispered something that sounded like a frantic ‘Shut up’ to someone that definitely wasn’t there. “So you skimped on your best friend’s dead mother’s birthday, a day when you knew he would need you, to go hang out with a girl you’ve barely known a week.”

“I-I know… I… should’ve…”

“Why are you with this girl then, Nygma? If you would indulge my curiosities in our little tête-à-tête, a place where, feel free to be honest…” He moved his hands around a little, being sure his myriad of guns and weapons would be briefly visible. Nygma looked like he understood the subtext. “What drew you to her, in particular?”

“She looked like…”

“She looked like…?”

“My dead ex-girlfriend.”

“Wow.”

“Who I killed.”

“Right.” The basis for any healthy relationship. “And you really don’t think that has anything to do with you being with her?”

“No, of course not. I love her.”

“You never think about it? Ever?”

“Well…”

That was all the confirmation Victor needed.

“I don’t like you Nygma, and trust me when I tell you that the last thing I want to do is play relationship counsellor. But desperate times, you know how it is.” He leaned forward, watching Nygma shift back. “Do you really not think you might be confusing your past love for her with… your current love for someone else…?”

Nygma’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows knitting together.

“What are you implying?”

“What do you think I’m implying? You’ve already proved you're smart, figure it out.”

It took Nygma a minute, but he finally reached the same conclusion that Victor had weeks ago. The third penny finally drops.

“Oh, no, me and Oswald aren’t- aren’t like that.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t understand, we aren’t- he doesn’t like me like that, and I- I don’t…”

It took everything Victor had not to smash Nygma’s head against the car window for being so oblivious. He settled on a sigh.

“Look, I can’t believe I’m the one saying this and I’m never doing it again, but search your feelings. Really. For both our sakes, do some fucking self-reflection, Nygma.”

The other man was silent for a while, before uttering, almost meekly.

“Why are you doing this?”

Victor sighed for what felt like the upteenth time, though may have only been the second.

“Always the ‘why’s with you.”

“You’re Victor Zsasz, you don’t care about anyone.”

“That may be true. But when Oswald’s happy I get work, and you make him happy. God knows why, but you do.”

They didn’t speak again for the rest of the car ride back, and eventually they came to a halt in the driveway leading up to the Manor. The driver came around to open the back door, and Nygma got out looking slightly shaky on his feet.

“Just talk to Oswald, would you?”

He called after the taller man, and even if Nygma didn’t respond, Victor knew he’d heard him.

And if he pretended not to know why Nygma was now almost always around the manor and almost exclusively spending time alone with his boss, well then that was his business. He did not like Edward Nygma, but he liked what the man did for his boss, and by extension his job.

So maybe, Edward was alright.