Mr_Coffee

You cant really recall when exactly you stopped questioning Oleander

Was it after he started bringing you around his closest friends at the mousehole? When he started having you help him with his personal affairs, when he seemed to laugh a little harder when you bit back at his witty comments? The way he plucked you from the gutters and put you in the lap of luxury like you deserved it and nothing less.

How you kept his bed warm after months of a budding companionship?

Maybe when the playboy himself started to only coming home to you, and in turn expected the same out of you. Some even whisper that you got him on a leash.

…

Whatever the reason may be you found yourself in yet another situation again because you didn't question him. A man was dead at your feet in his own study- the poisoned tea dripping from his lips that only six minuets ago you had served to him courtesy of your boss. If you recall it was due to him expressing a desire to rat out several underground trades that Oleander was supposed to oversee over a game of pool at a bar. The poor fool forgot good old oleander has ears in every corner of the marketplace though.

Honestly its better that you got to him first then the debt collectors did

That's what you were telling yourself at least as you pick up his now lifeless corpse

The body is quickly dumped down his own stairs, he was drunk enough to most that the idea of being found dead at the bottom is good enough- if anyone really cared to come looking anyways. You were out the door and heading back to that all too familiar office before you knew it.

A couple months ago you would have scoffed at the notion

A killer? You? For more than just survival? Impossible- hard to believe you do it without blinking twice now.

The idea makes you stop near dead in your tracks, as the notion makes you come to an almost chilling realization- since when did oleander rub off on you that much?

Perhaps it all goes back to not questioning him, and perhaps you would even have a talk with him about it when you get back. Unless you come home to him pushing you against the wall and kissing down to your heat- a reward that both he loved to give and worked on you more than you may ever care to admit.

When you get back you slip into his office with a spare key that oleander made a very big show of giving to you weeks back, and shutting the door behind you. The man of the hour makes no attempt to directly look at you from his papers- but you catch the slight upwards tilt of the mask to look at you. Just barely a glance- the audacity.

If he couldn't see the mock irritation on your face under your mask surly he would hear it in your voice.

"I hope you know I got my gloves all dirty from doing your dirty work."

He scoffs before responding, without missing a beat- this time looking up at you

"I hope that wasn't just a chap ploy to get me to buy you new gloves then, because that would be a new low for you."

His voice was playful, and his eyes were on you as you walked over to sit on the corner of his desk like you owned the damn place, not that he minded it.

"What if I told you that mans death was now weighing on me, and I'm deeply hurt that I had no one to accompany me."

"Then I would almost believe you and feel bad- almost."

You watch as he leans back in his chair, almost like he was tempting you with an invitation that would keep you satisfied for at least an hour or more before he ruins it with the motion of getting up and walking along his office. Tease.

"I think that's all for today, your free to do whatever you wish until I have a need for you"

His voice was velvety and playful- something that irritated you because that meant he knew what you were going to say back before the words left your lips.

"I think I'll stay with you"

Shit. That almost sounds desperate.

"I mean you didn't even ask me how it went, do you not care to-"

He doesn't even miss a beat. This was mearly a dance to him. You watch as he draws out his response, carefully standing to his feet to stand over you.

"I have no need to ask, I know that my assistant wouldn't come back if the job wasn't done to my liking."

You look up to him, perhaps this is why he made the choice to stand like so- perhaps you even liked it. All you can manage is to cross one leg over the other and adjust your seating on his desk while playing coy in your voice

"So you have faith in me? How cute."

You hope that hides the blooming blush on your face- if he noticed then he made no comment, something that you can't decide irritated or enthralled you.

"I believe your drawing out our time together, so why don't we just cut to the chase-"

You stop him, pressing your hand to his bare chest that peers through his shirt. You couldn't ignore that he tends to always get the upper hand with you, or that he often gets to pull at all your strings and get you however you wish. Yet right now you wanted to take the lead on this- and he doesn't seem to mind.

"Take me to dinner."

"How bold of you to ask-"

You cut him off, pulling your hand back to cross your arms like this was nothing more than a business deal- because two could play at this game.

"Don't act foolish, take me somewhere nice for dinner, I've done a lot for you and I want compensation."

The room is silent for a second before he laughed. It would almost make you melt to the floor right then and there of embarrassment if it didn't feel so like him to laugh. He then makes the effort to bring your hand to his lips and lifts his mask off enough to flash a grin and kiss your gloved hand.

"If it's compensation your after, I would be more than happy to occupy you in your personal chambers-"

You whip your hand away so fast it's almost impressive, biting back a flushed squeak before kicking his thigh with your foot while hopping off the desk to walk to the office. While you do so oleander adjusted his mask back on and crossed his arms.

"I'll see you by seven. Don't be late."

He finds it cute that this was your futile attempt to re-gain the final say, but of course he makes no move to rebuttle. After all he found it much more entertaining to play along and let you get this out of your system. This time at least. He leads you to the door and gently pats your shoulder.

"Fine. You've twisted my arm- see you at seven."

Quickly you walk out without looking back, or talking time to notice how he squeezed your shoulder or how his voice felt more genuine than you've ever heard it before. Perhaps that's exactly why he did it.

He watches you go before turning back to his desk and sitting down at his chair, eyes flicking down to the spot where you were sitting and smiles softly.

Because perhaps for better or worse.