Tella

“You understand,” he says smoothly, “this is not a game.”

Out of all the villains you’ve met, this one manages to piss you off. Not an easy feat.

You nod solemnly. “Of course. Monopoly ruins friendships, families, and now apparently crime syndicates.”

Tony, the henchman who’d given Cobblepot your resume, snorts quietly before straightening when the Penguin shoots him a look.

When you asked Tony to get you into deep shit, the kind only a vigilante could pull you out of, you’d been thinking Killer Croc, Poison Ivy, maybe even someone new like Catwoman. You always thought she was cool.

You’d completely forgotten Tony worked for the Penguin. Figures. The loyal bastard had to get you involved with the pettiest bird-themed criminal in Gotham. He is so not getting homemade pastries anymore.

“So,” you say, rolling the dice, “just to be clear. If I win—”

“You get your penguin,” Cobblepot cuts in.

“And if I lose?”

His smile curls cruelly. “Then you work for me as a spy.”

Tony coughs from the side, his face screwing up like he’s trying not to burst out laughing. He probably thinks you’d be a shit spy.

Focusing back on Cobblepot, you put on your fakest smile. “High stakes for fake money.”

The door behind you creaks. You don’t need to turn to know it was Red Hood. His presence presses into the room.

“Why,” his voice growls, distorted by the helmet, “are you playing Monopoly with Penguin?”

Oswald smiles, sharp teeth glinting. “Ah. Red Hood. Right on time.”

You beam. “My love!” You nearly fall out of your chair when you turn to face him.

Robin stands beside him, eyes flicking between the two of you, taking in your relaxed posture like it’s a sin. He looks about thirteen, his hair brushing the space between Hood’s shoulder and elbow.

Red Hood steps closer, fingers twitching toward his gun. Tension rolls off him in waves. “Whatever he promised you, it’s not worth getting tangled up in this mess.”

You scoff. “The only thing I plan to be tangled in is your shee—” You stop when Robin tilts his head.

“Um. Sheep.”

Robin stares at you, eyes narrowed.

“Not that this reunion isn’t delightful,” Oswald cuts in, his voice slick and oily, sliding over your skin and making you cringe, “but we have far more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Hush,” you mutter to Oswald as Red Hood raises his gun and aims it at the Penguin. “Shut the hell up.”

Cobblepot bristles, his beak-like nose twitching.

You swallow, heat creeping up your neck. How Red Hood doesn’t have more fans is beyond you. He’s hot when he’s annoyed.

“This is the imbecile who’s in love with you, then?” Robin asks, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

You smile, unfazed. If anything, the kid is cute.

Red Hood ignores him. He’s too busy watching you. “What’s he giving you if you win?”

“A penguin,” you reply without missing a beat.

“Then I’ll get you a fucking fish like a normal person.”

Robin tsks. “Let her have the penguin, Hood. If you are to be a good husband, you must submit to your wife’s whims.” He sounds far more interested now.

“That’s because you also want a penguin,” Red mutters.

“I admit nothing.”

You gesture at Robin. “If the kid wants a penguin, you get him a penguin.”

“I second that,” Tony pipes up.

Instinctively, Red Hood swings the gun toward Tony.

You grab his arm. “Hey, no. That’s my bitch, my side piece, my favorite lowlife, my—”

“Your nothing.”

Your grip tightens. “Don’t hurt him. Pretty please?” You look up at him.

He lets you move his arm away, the gun pointing back at the Penguin, who watches the scene with quiet, calculating interest.

“Can I shoot him?” you whisper to Red.

A sudden laugh pulls out of him. You’re close enough to feel his body shake, to feel his warmth through the armor.

“Maybe another day, sweetheart.”

Your eyes don’t meet his, not really. The white lenses cover them. Even so, you share a secretive look, one that feels heavier than words.

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