[ He'd rarely try to ever shush Oswald. It would just annoy him, he figures. Piss him off. Make him retort with a "No, you shush." - Though this is one of those rare moments where Ed could get away with doing it without getting irritation aimed at him.
Ed's a little glad he isn't being constantly reassured he's going to be okay more than needed. That would get tiring. Irritating. He knows perfectly well what kind of state he's in right now. Oswald clearly is the best person to call, even if he thinks he might be panicking a little and doing his best to hide it.
There's a pause. Ed's eyes go a little wide before he frowns in confusion, just giving Oswald a completely baffled look. ] Blood? [ A pause. He looks ahead then back at him, scrunching his face up in disbelief. ] What? Blood... That- [ Technically an answer. ] No.
[ That is exactly what he would have said to being shushed.
He was definitely feeling panic, as much as he wished he weren't. It was one thing to edge his own way out of precarious situations, but this was entirely different. Oswald had held the lives of others in his hands before, but rarely was his intent anything but harm. To be on the opposite end of the spectrum and in a position where his actions played a pivotal role in the survival of someone important -- it was daunting. A bit frightening, even. He couldn't afford to fail.
... well, at least Ed wasn't at the point where he'd stopped caring about riddles. ] Don't look at me like it was a completely preposterous answer. There's at least a dozen things it could be. [ Was it a good sign or a bad one that he'd reacted so strongly? ]
[ He lets out a little huff at the response, bit irritated. Agitated. It bothers him even if Oswald is perfectly right about there being multiple answers to that one. But only the one he's thinking of is correct. The blood must have distracted him. He was trying to make it themed to the current situation. He wouldn't have gotten it wrong otherwise. Surely. ] Watch. It's a watch.
[ He raises his hand to make a point, turning his wrist side to side. His watch is broken, the surface cracked and busted in like his glasses had been. It is not running. Ed only realizes it right then and drops his arm, placing his hand back over Oswald's to keep it where he previously placed it. ] But not my watch. [ Ed leans into him more without thinking much on it. Eyes dropping again for a second before he tries to jerk his head up. Going going- Oh. ] Fine. I will accept your answer but only this one time.
[ Maybe requesting a hard riddle was a mistake. Or it was just Ed being stubborn about it. Oswald squinted briefly, but that almost immediately changed to him raising his eyebrows and shifting his gaze from the broken watch and back to Ed a few times as if he was making an unspoken point. ] Not your watch.
[ He really didn't have to keep his hand in place like that, but no point in arguing it. At least he was finally listening as far as it being okay to use him for support as much as he needed. ] It's not as satisfying when you only give it to me on technicality, but I'll accept your generosity. Just this once. [ Oswald didn't know even a fraction as many riddles as Ed did, but aside from banter it was the only surefire way he could come up with to keep Ed awake and answering him. ] My turn. What asks but never answers?
[ Ed keeps giving Oswald side-long glances, lips turned downward. Just frowning about Oswald not having the exact same answer he was thinking of a moment ago and having to adjust accordingly. It's Oswald so it's fine. They can be in sync later.
He needs that hand there. He has to hold it there, if only to be sure he still has feeling in his hand. Oswald's hands are warmer than his own. ] Just this once, yes. [ Ed ends up lulling his head forward, hanging while they move. He lets out a little sigh that's followed by some sort of laugh. ] A question mark.
[ He could feel Ed's frequent gazes toward him, but after looking back the first few times he gave up and decided to ignore it. As much as he liked to hear Ed's signature affirmation that he'd gotten the answer right, he'd accepted a long time ago that he'd never get them correct all the time. Out-riddling Ed Nygma isn't something you can just do.
But you can still have a little fun. ] Are you sure? [ It wasn't like normal, but it was still good to hear something akin to laughter. Oswald adjusted the weight that was being put on him just slightly before glancing over at him, a little smirk on his face. Ed wasn't the only one who could do a multiple answer riddle. ]
[ The gazes die out in favor of Ed keeping his eyes-closed now that there's another riddle between them to focus on - and how he can hardly keep them open anyway. He's practically making Oswald carry him at this point. He should apologize for that later.
Still wearing a bit of a grin though. ] Am I sure? [ A scoff. He rubs at one of his eyes. ] The obvious answer would be the least creative one, which is 'an owl.' Don't tell me I over-estimated you.
[ Oswald was a bit torn between telling him to open his eyes or not. It would be bad if he started to nod off, but at the same time he hardly felt like he had a right to tell him otherwise after all he'd been through. It should be okay if they were still engaging in something he had to think about. ]
That is what I asked you. [ Laughter was good, but so were grins. Oswald couldn't hold back either one, though said laugh was quiet and shortlived. ] Actually, I was banking on you thinking a question mark would be the far too obvious one and go for something else instead. Is this the part where I concede that you outsmarted me?
[ Still talking. Still focusing. A little numb right now and once again tipping his head to use Oswald's head to rest his face on. He deserves some sort of award for staying upright this long, he thinks. The pendant just isn't cutting it as a singular prize for the day. Wake him up when someone has a trophy. ]
But I think you're just pretending to play at being outsmarted because you knew that was my favorite version of that. You can't fool me.
[ Oswald could get used to Ed being so close like that, honestly. Too bad it probably wouldn't happen again anytime soon. ] Me? Try to fool you? Never. [ No time to keep that little discussion going, though, as fun as it was. After what was quite a struggle in of itself, they were finally turning on to their street and home was just a few minutes away. There would be plenty of time for their usual quipping later, he was sure. ] You're going to have to tell me where you'll be most comfortable for me to address your injuries.
[ He of little faith in how close they can get. ] Mmhm. [ A bold claim. But he doesn't think he would try to trick him (he'd hope) outside of playful banter. The bond of trust wouldn't be broken to an actual cruel trickery, Ed believes. Not unless Ed did something.
He wouldn't like it if Ed lost consciousness on him, he's sure. There's a short delay between when Oswald speaks and Ed answers. ] Wherever you don't mind blood, I suppose. Your room is closest to the front door and easily accessible. I have more supplies in my room but it's the furthest away. The living area is between the two but the sofa lacks the leg room.
[ There were times where he did worry how easy it would be for him to make a mistake big enough to be a detriment to their relationship and when the warning he'd been given drove him down a path of hows and what ifs, but because of those things he was trying harder now more than ever to ensure that deeply hurting Ed was something he would never do. Few good things in his life remained, but... he really hoped that Ed always would. That he'd get it right with him. Existence would be unthinkable without him. ] Blood is the least of my concerns. That can be taken care of later. I'll take you to my room and get anything we need afterward. [ There was a brief period of silence as they made it to the door before Oswald looked down at where Ed was holding his hand over his wound. ] I'm sorry to say that I'm going to need that back to unlock the door.
[ A deviance from their current trajectory as friends (more?) isn't a happy line of thought. While it's one Ed's frequent paranoia brings up, he's comfortable enough now that he can easily dismiss it as just that. No where they'd go in reality, of course.
Ed hums in agreement to the current plan. Go in Oswald's room. Get everything after. Oswald has a bathroom he can rinse off in. He can be put down and have things gathered.
The period of silence is one where Ed might have spaced out. He doesn't exactly remember reaching the door but it's a good thing it's there. ] What? [ His eyes stare at him blankly. ] Oh. [ The hand Ed's been holding very tightly in place. That's not helpful to Oswald. He releases his grip and drops his own hand like a dead weight. ]
[ For Oswald the problem was in the knowledge that in some way, in some universe, his fear had become reality. It was terrifying to conceptualize, but even more terrifying than that was the very real possibility that it could have happened here had he not been given the fortune of someone else's foresight. But he couldn't think about that kind of thing right now.
Truthfully, he hadn't realized just how fierce Ed's grip had been until he'd let go. The way he had stared was concerning, but asking if he was okay would be completely idiotic. He clearly wasn't. Getting the key in correctly and unlocking the door had taken a touch more concentration than it did normally, but quickly enough he was guiding Ed into the house and to the place they'd agreed on. It was a little embarrassing to think of Ed being on his bed, even with circumstances as they were. Ugh. Dwelling on those sort of details was only going to make this harder. ]
Did you want to wash up at all? [ He peered over at him, sounding unsure even as he asked the question. It would be better if he rested now and did that later, but it was probably better if he let him make up his own mind. He had to know better than to push himself at this point. Oswald could always help him, of course, but that could be potentially very, very awkward. Was offering even appropriate? He didn't know. He just kept looking at him for an answer and maybe a hint of what to do next. ]
Thank you. [ Once on the bed, Ed takes a second to just lay there with his eyes closed before his instinct to take care of the situation kicks in and he decides he better not fall asleep. Oswald is asking questions. Ed gives him a tired look before he rubs at his eyes and starts forcing himself up enough to get his own shirt off. ] Not yet. Have to figure out what the damage is first. Aid kit. Steps.
[ Peeling off the drying bloody mess is going to be such a relief, modesty be damned. It's a bit harder than it should be, he's been favoring one hand this entire time without realizing it. The watch is broken for a reason. Smashed to bits. This might be the biggest problem out of everything. You fool. Getting a wrist injury is going to be harder to hide.
He doesn't make a lot of progress with the shirt and ends up looking over at Oswald. Now to ask the awkward question. Want to strip me, Oswald? ...No, that's not appropriate. ] Um.
You've done the same for me. [ He gestured as if to push the words away, trying to show that it wasn't necessary. How much more had Ed done for him? Bringing him home was the very least he could do. He nodded several times at Ed's assessment, but when he looked back up with a question at the ready he paused and immediately shut his mouth when he realized what Ed was doing. He started fidgeting with his hands immediately and found a place on the floor to study in both shyness and an attempt to give him some semblance of privacy even though he'd have to look back up sooner rather than later. Oswald left what he thought was a suitable amount of time pass before he lifted his eyes, though he felt like an utter idiot when he realized he'd completely overlooked the idea of a wrist injury.
And he needed help. Oh no. A fresh rush of nerves spread through his body, but he moved forward quickly. His hands hovered for a few seconds before he actually got the nerve to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, though. ] Why didn't you just tell me you needed help to begin with?
[ He was mumbling. Couldn't look Ed in the face. His full attention was on each button as he went along before moving to the next, a large part of him actually dreading that he'd have to take off his undershirt too. One step at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. ] This may hurt a bit. [ Oswald finally looked up, but only for a split second. He hoped that he was being gentle enough that it didn't hurt while he maneuvered the shirt off, but it was so much harder to judge when it wasn't yourself that you were taking care of. ] Better? [ There was so much blood on his undershirt. That stain would never come out. Was it okay to keep going? Again, he asked with a look instead of words. It was too much to say it out loud. ]
[ Done the same in a way. Oswald is going 2 to 1 as far as he's concerned. There's Butch's strangling situation. Though Oswald being unconscious with a gunshot wound was more of a mess. Bringing out that expression of worry isn't something Ed was planning on doing again. People rarely plan to get hurt. He thought he could handle this part until he hit the roadblock. Normally, one-hand could handle buttons but at this stage of fatigue, it just wasn't working out.
He didn't want to have to ask him to do this part but he hadn't needed to. Oswald is close and only hesitated for a moment. Mumbling. He must think he's foolish for not being capable of getting the words out. He finds himself unsure what to say. Only Oswald seems to be able to make words fail him. He doesn't know why he couldn't just ask. It's like there was another layer to it he's not completely aware of.
Ed's watching Oswald's hands. It feels like Oswald's doing it slower than needed. Careful. Silence outside of breathing. Is this dragged out or is he so lightheaded that the concept of time is avoiding him? He catches his eyes when he does look up and nods at him, maneuvering himself without hurting himself so Oswald can slide the shirt off easier. It feels like he peeled off a layer of skin, having that come off. ] Incredibly.
[ The darker fabric of a false uniform hid most of his own injuries and had blended it with blood from other sources than himself. The stark white of the undershirt puts the red on display, broadcasting exactly where he got hurt, exaggerating it by retaining a stain far past the tear in the fabric.
Ed takes a breath, puts a non-injured hand over the pendant on his chest to quickly remove it and put it aside by carelessly dropping it on the floor. It's not important. He looks back to Oswald, returning with a look of his own and a nod. Keep going. ]
[ Even mid-sentence, he knew why it was hard for Ed to ask. It certainly wasn't rocket science, and he knew that he couldn't have done it either. There still wasn't a definitive label of what they were, so how could they possibly figure out how to feel about this situation except uncertainty? Well, and extreme bashfulness and embarrassment on Oswald's part. He was only helping him with his injuries, of course, but to get there they had to respectively take and allow certain actions that otherwise were quite intimate. It was almost too much to handle, and that was partially why he actually had taken good long time to undo all of the buttons. The next part... how to even respond to that? Acting as though it didn't phase him would be the best thing, but could he even pull that off? It was going to phase him, rather he managed to hide it or not.
Oswald's eyes lingered the pendant for just a few seconds. He could only assume that was the important thing he'd gotten his hands on, but it really didn't matter what it was at that point in time. He didn't even spare it another thought. Ed's stability was much more important. He was nodding at him to keep going. Oswald studied the bloody stain for a few lingering moments before mentally bracing himself and carefully grasping the bottom of the shirt and starting to lift it upwards. He was especially gentle around the area of the wound, knowing that some of the blood had dried and begun to cling by then. When the fabric lifted and his wound was on full display, he pressed his lips together in dissatisfaction. He felt guilty for some reason. Would Ed have even joined that contest to begin with if Oswald hadn't? Maybe he could have prevented this if he'd discouraged it. It took him a few moments to realize he'd been staring mid-thought. ]
I'm sorry. [ The words were blurted out. It probably sounded like he was apologizing for staring at Ed, not his injury. Not that he didn't want to stare at Ed. Because he did. But that was inappropriate and -- oh goodness. Was he panicking? Was his face turning red? It felt like it was. He was supposed to keep himself under control, dammit! He was much more speedy and proficient about taking the shirt off the rest of the way before tossing it aside and quickly stepping back. Eyes back on the floor. ] W-What should I bring from your room? [ Oh for the love of -- stuttering? At a time like this? He wanted to slap himself. This wasn't intimate. It wasn't romantic. It didn't mean anything. Why did he have to be this way? ]
[ How could they possibly figure out how to feel about this situation except uncertainty? And shame. He got himself hurt and now he has to be stripped. Embarrassment. Discomfort. Pain - but not because of Oswald. That was already there, even if the dry fabric being pulled off does bring a sensation like ripping a band-aid off in a certain spot. Bashfulness? Forcing their uncertain inch-worming in a very specific direction for Oswald's sake to take a leap ahead to stripping, which he's quite sure Oswald is thinking about the way he went from concentration to just ...staring. Where is his gaze directed? Is it a bad wound? Does he look unsatisfactory with his shirt off? Ah. It must be the blood-loss that he has to question that oddly. ]
It's okay. [ Ed can't even be sure what he's apologizing for. He tilts his head down to try and look at himself before the shirt starts coming off a lot quicker. The closest proximity in this process of pulling someone else's shirt off, he determines, is when it has to go over the head. The arms have to go up and the individual has to lean forward slightly. Ed leans in. He doesn't have to as close to the face as he is and -
Oswald took a step back. Ed inhales a breath, puts his hands over his face. The answer to the stuttered question gets blurted out quickly. ] Aid kit. Fresh clothes. Spare glasses.
[ Would it be worse or better if this had happened earlier on? Back then Ed wouldn't have known the reason for why he was acting as he was. He probably would have come up with a plausible excuse and decided it was just the lingering influence of having something strange going on in their minds or something similar. That also would have given him a chance to come to a negative conclusion, but now that he knew the truth it was so much harder to hide things. Things that were extremely awkward to admit to out loud. Things that Ed could now likely conclude on his own.
He barely registered the verbal response, but he couldn't not notice Ed's face so close. Almost like it was intentional. He wouldn't possibly do what it looked like was going to do. Why would he? The first and only time had just been a test. An experiment. Ed was in pain and miserable and there was no way he would attempt to kiss him at a time like this. Yet he still panicked. Throwing the shirt, the swift step back, the stuttering -- he hated that he did it but he still couldn't help it. When Ed's voice came out muffled he looked up at him, a frown forming on his face. He hadn't actually been trying to...? No. He hadn't. He was burying his face because he was in pain. How many times did he have to beat that into his own skull before he stopped thinking with his emotions? ]
I won't be long. [ That wasn't too many things to get. He might grab a few towels too. Having blood caked on your skin was never comfortable. Oswald turned to exit the room, but looked back to speak again. One could interpret his words as scolding, but the softness of his tone was nothing of the sort.] Don't try anything while I'm not here.
[ He winces and removes his hands, putting one across his chest instead to cradle it. Stop moving your wrist, asshole.
Ed is having a hard time thinking. He's still dizzy. His face feels hot - probably a fever. Blood. Lightheaded. Pain. Blacking out certain logical processes where for a singular moment he thought now was a good idea to indulge in something he thinks Oswald wants just because. Because? He's so tired. The depth of the injury doesn't appear to be fatal but it's still bad enough to remove a logical thought process. Clearly! There is no other reason he would lean in like that. He doesn't want to do that.
Oswald smelt good. Ed must have that metallic blood scent. Dirt. Sweat. Disgusting. Looking at him is out of the question right now. He keeps his eyes shut. ] I'm not going to. [ A quiet reply, soft. But still with an edge to it that makes it obvious he may have rolled his eyes behind his closed lids. ]
[ Ed's thought process didn't evade him until moments like this. One second his actions made sense and the next they didn't. Maybe the difference was that his predominant logical side held certain patterns to it, but he was typically so guarded with his heart that those matters were much harder to figure out. There were certain parts of Ed's heart that he had seen, but never a full picture all at once. It was always fragments and pieces that never quite fit together. It was intriguing, frustrating, and baffling all at once that he lived up to his name so well. That little edge in his voice made the frown fade just a bit, though. ] You'd tell me the same thing. [ Oswald definitely rolled his eyes, but it was playful knowing sort of look than anything.
True to his word he didn't take too long to get back to Ed, though he had needed to take multiple trips to bring everything. And then there had been the part where Spinda had insisted on helping so he'd ended up making an extra trip just to carry him while he carried a pair of socks. He also insisted on handing them to Ed personally, so Oswald begrudgingly allowed it before placing him outside of the room and shutting the door. Putting his mind on the task of gathering things was enough to keep his nerves mostly at bay, but once he actually started doing things it was going to be more difficult. He still hadn't had the nerve to really look at Ed aside from focusing solely on his face. How on earth was he going to do this? ] I'm... going to start now. Is that okay?
Yes, I would. [ Confirmation. Their playful little banter does ease the rapidly increasing unease Ed's currently feeling. It's like waves of a dizzying haze and a rapid heartbeat that vaguely reminds him of the occasional attempts Arkham had made to medicate him. Oswald should come back quicker. Some of what he's feeling doesn't match up to the wound. That's worrying.
There's multiple trips, which he can't imagine Oswald is enjoying the extra walking after having to carrying him all the way here. It wasn't too many things, was it? Everything he asked for could've been one trip. There's certainly more being brought in than planned. Like towels. Towels are a good idea, actually. Oswald really is the best. Ed feels quiet useless just watching this - and fading in and out. Missed one of the trips entirely and had to pat his face to try and wake himself up. Nothing more, right? He goes to say something only for Spinda making his helpful contribution by personally handing him a pair of socks. Shoving it into his hand excitedly and making sure Ed looked at him while he did it. Good job.
Did Spinda pick these out? These aren't Oswald's color. He would've went for the purple socks. Ed's holding them with an bemused expression for a moment then puts them down to look at him. ] I can talk you through it if you need.
[ It would be untrue to say that all of the walking he'd done wasn't beginning to become a strain on his bad leg, but he'd been through worse and what he was doing and who he was caring for was much more important than a slight increase in the dull ache he always felt anyway. Seeing Ed look in such poor condition the first time he'd returned certainly put an extra bit of speed to his step.
Initially he'd had to talk the bizarre little creature out of doing more reckless things like carrying his glasses, but at least the event had cut through some of the rising tension. He hoped it had, anyway. If nothing else, at least now they wouldn't hear pounding on the door while Oswald tried to dress Ed's wounds. Which was happening now. He couldn't delay any longer. His eyes flickered upward, and immediately he could feel the heat on his face. Oh mercy, was he hopelessly attractive. ]
That might be best. In favor of not making a mistake. I wouldn't want to do any more damage. [ And it would give him something to concentrate on instead of how Ed actually was irresistibly handsome in every possible way. ]
[ The glasses that are now intact and where Ed can put them on his face, clearing some of the world around him up. There are those freckles he couldn't see earlier. Spinda had moved on but Ed heard pounding anyway in his ears.
What is Oswald looking at? Mouth dry, Ed licks his lips again and takes a deliberately slow breath to prepare for the inevitable sting he's going to end up feeling. Okay. Concentrating now.
He starts giving carefully stated instructions for proper first aid, looking up the majority of the time. Recited from perfectly recalled memory with little antidotes from practice. Voice low and a little raspy because it's painful. A grip of Oswald's arm at one point to guide him because OWW!
But good job. Far more helpful than he'd imagine anyone else. Oswald can follow instructions and didn't need some of them. Common sense. He's smart enough to know. ]
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Ed's a little glad he isn't being constantly reassured he's going to be okay more than needed. That would get tiring. Irritating. He knows perfectly well what kind of state he's in right now. Oswald clearly is the best person to call, even if he thinks he might be panicking a little and doing his best to hide it.
There's a pause. Ed's eyes go a little wide before he frowns in confusion, just giving Oswald a completely baffled look. ] Blood? [ A pause. He looks ahead then back at him, scrunching his face up in disbelief. ] What? Blood... That- [ Technically an answer. ] No.
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He was definitely feeling panic, as much as he wished he weren't. It was one thing to edge his own way out of precarious situations, but this was entirely different. Oswald had held the lives of others in his hands before, but rarely was his intent anything but harm. To be on the opposite end of the spectrum and in a position where his actions played a pivotal role in the survival of someone important -- it was daunting. A bit frightening, even. He couldn't afford to fail.
... well, at least Ed wasn't at the point where he'd stopped caring about riddles. ] Don't look at me like it was a completely preposterous answer. There's at least a dozen things it could be. [ Was it a good sign or a bad one that he'd reacted so strongly? ]
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[ He raises his hand to make a point, turning his wrist side to side. His watch is broken, the surface cracked and busted in like his glasses had been. It is not running. Ed only realizes it right then and drops his arm, placing his hand back over Oswald's to keep it where he previously placed it. ] But not my watch. [ Ed leans into him more without thinking much on it. Eyes dropping again for a second before he tries to jerk his head up. Going going- Oh. ] Fine. I will accept your answer but only this one time.
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[ He really didn't have to keep his hand in place like that, but no point in arguing it. At least he was finally listening as far as it being okay to use him for support as much as he needed. ] It's not as satisfying when you only give it to me on technicality, but I'll accept your generosity. Just this once. [ Oswald didn't know even a fraction as many riddles as Ed did, but aside from banter it was the only surefire way he could come up with to keep Ed awake and answering him. ] My turn. What asks but never answers?
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He needs that hand there. He has to hold it there, if only to be sure he still has feeling in his hand. Oswald's hands are warmer than his own. ] Just this once, yes. [ Ed ends up lulling his head forward, hanging while they move. He lets out a little sigh that's followed by some sort of laugh. ] A question mark.
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But you can still have a little fun. ] Are you sure? [ It wasn't like normal, but it was still good to hear something akin to laughter. Oswald adjusted the weight that was being put on him just slightly before glancing over at him, a little smirk on his face. Ed wasn't the only one who could do a multiple answer riddle. ]
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Still wearing a bit of a grin though. ] Am I sure? [ A scoff. He rubs at one of his eyes. ] The obvious answer would be the least creative one, which is 'an owl.' Don't tell me I over-estimated you.
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That is what I asked you. [ Laughter was good, but so were grins. Oswald couldn't hold back either one, though said laugh was quiet and shortlived. ] Actually, I was banking on you thinking a question mark would be the far too obvious one and go for something else instead. Is this the part where I concede that you outsmarted me?
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But I think you're just pretending to play at being outsmarted because you knew that was my favorite version of that. You can't fool me.
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He wouldn't like it if Ed lost consciousness on him, he's sure. There's a short delay between when Oswald speaks and Ed answers. ] Wherever you don't mind blood, I suppose. Your room is closest to the front door and easily accessible. I have more supplies in my room but it's the furthest away. The living area is between the two but the sofa lacks the leg room.
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Ed hums in agreement to the current plan. Go in Oswald's room. Get everything after. Oswald has a bathroom he can rinse off in. He can be put down and have things gathered.
The period of silence is one where Ed might have spaced out. He doesn't exactly remember reaching the door but it's a good thing it's there. ] What? [ His eyes stare at him blankly. ] Oh. [ The hand Ed's been holding very tightly in place. That's not helpful to Oswald. He releases his grip and drops his own hand like a dead weight. ]
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Truthfully, he hadn't realized just how fierce Ed's grip had been until he'd let go. The way he had stared was concerning, but asking if he was okay would be completely idiotic. He clearly wasn't. Getting the key in correctly and unlocking the door had taken a touch more concentration than it did normally, but quickly enough he was guiding Ed into the house and to the place they'd agreed on. It was a little embarrassing to think of Ed being on his bed, even with circumstances as they were. Ugh. Dwelling on those sort of details was only going to make this harder. ]
Did you want to wash up at all? [ He peered over at him, sounding unsure even as he asked the question. It would be better if he rested now and did that later, but it was probably better if he let him make up his own mind. He had to know better than to push himself at this point. Oswald could always help him, of course, but that could be potentially very, very awkward. Was offering even appropriate? He didn't know. He just kept looking at him for an answer and maybe a hint of what to do next. ]
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[ Peeling off the drying bloody mess is going to be such a relief, modesty be damned. It's a bit harder than it should be, he's been favoring one hand this entire time without realizing it. The watch is broken for a reason. Smashed to bits. This might be the biggest problem out of everything. You fool. Getting a wrist injury is going to be harder to hide.
He doesn't make a lot of progress with the shirt and ends up looking over at Oswald. Now to ask the awkward question. Want to strip me, Oswald? ...No, that's not appropriate. ] Um.
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And he needed help. Oh no. A fresh rush of nerves spread through his body, but he moved forward quickly. His hands hovered for a few seconds before he actually got the nerve to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, though. ] Why didn't you just tell me you needed help to begin with?
[ He was mumbling. Couldn't look Ed in the face. His full attention was on each button as he went along before moving to the next, a large part of him actually dreading that he'd have to take off his undershirt too. One step at a time. Breathe in. Breathe out. ] This may hurt a bit. [ Oswald finally looked up, but only for a split second. He hoped that he was being gentle enough that it didn't hurt while he maneuvered the shirt off, but it was so much harder to judge when it wasn't yourself that you were taking care of. ] Better? [ There was so much blood on his undershirt. That stain would never come out. Was it okay to keep going? Again, he asked with a look instead of words. It was too much to say it out loud. ]
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He didn't want to have to ask him to do this part but he hadn't needed to. Oswald is close and only hesitated for a moment. Mumbling. He must think he's foolish for not being capable of getting the words out. He finds himself unsure what to say. Only Oswald seems to be able to make words fail him. He doesn't know why he couldn't just ask. It's like there was another layer to it he's not completely aware of.
Ed's watching Oswald's hands. It feels like Oswald's doing it slower than needed. Careful. Silence outside of breathing. Is this dragged out or is he so lightheaded that the concept of time is avoiding him? He catches his eyes when he does look up and nods at him, maneuvering himself without hurting himself so Oswald can slide the shirt off easier. It feels like he peeled off a layer of skin, having that come off. ] Incredibly.
[ The darker fabric of a false uniform hid most of his own injuries and had blended it with blood from other sources than himself. The stark white of the undershirt puts the red on display, broadcasting exactly where he got hurt, exaggerating it by retaining a stain far past the tear in the fabric.
Ed takes a breath, puts a non-injured hand over the pendant on his chest to quickly remove it and put it aside by carelessly dropping it on the floor. It's not important. He looks back to Oswald, returning with a look of his own and a nod. Keep going. ]
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Oswald's eyes lingered the pendant for just a few seconds. He could only assume that was the important thing he'd gotten his hands on, but it really didn't matter what it was at that point in time. He didn't even spare it another thought. Ed's stability was much more important. He was nodding at him to keep going. Oswald studied the bloody stain for a few lingering moments before mentally bracing himself and carefully grasping the bottom of the shirt and starting to lift it upwards. He was especially gentle around the area of the wound, knowing that some of the blood had dried and begun to cling by then. When the fabric lifted and his wound was on full display, he pressed his lips together in dissatisfaction. He felt guilty for some reason. Would Ed have even joined that contest to begin with if Oswald hadn't? Maybe he could have prevented this if he'd discouraged it. It took him a few moments to realize he'd been staring mid-thought. ]
I'm sorry. [ The words were blurted out. It probably sounded like he was apologizing for staring at Ed, not his injury. Not that he didn't want to stare at Ed. Because he did. But that was inappropriate and -- oh goodness. Was he panicking? Was his face turning red? It felt like it was. He was supposed to keep himself under control, dammit! He was much more speedy and proficient about taking the shirt off the rest of the way before tossing it aside and quickly stepping back. Eyes back on the floor. ] W-What should I bring from your room? [ Oh for the love of -- stuttering? At a time like this? He wanted to slap himself. This wasn't intimate. It wasn't romantic. It didn't mean anything. Why did he have to be this way? ]
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It's okay. [ Ed can't even be sure what he's apologizing for. He tilts his head down to try and look at himself before the shirt starts coming off a lot quicker. The closest proximity in this process of pulling someone else's shirt off, he determines, is when it has to go over the head. The arms have to go up and the individual has to lean forward slightly. Ed leans in. He doesn't have to as close to the face as he is and -
Oswald took a step back. Ed inhales a breath, puts his hands over his face. The answer to the stuttered question gets blurted out quickly. ] Aid kit. Fresh clothes. Spare glasses.
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He barely registered the verbal response, but he couldn't not notice Ed's face so close. Almost like it was intentional. He wouldn't possibly do what it looked like was going to do. Why would he? The first and only time had just been a test. An experiment. Ed was in pain and miserable and there was no way he would attempt to kiss him at a time like this. Yet he still panicked. Throwing the shirt, the swift step back, the stuttering -- he hated that he did it but he still couldn't help it. When Ed's voice came out muffled he looked up at him, a frown forming on his face. He hadn't actually been trying to...? No. He hadn't. He was burying his face because he was in pain. How many times did he have to beat that into his own skull before he stopped thinking with his emotions? ]
I won't be long. [ That wasn't too many things to get. He might grab a few towels too. Having blood caked on your skin was never comfortable. Oswald turned to exit the room, but looked back to speak again. One could interpret his words as scolding, but the softness of his tone was nothing of the sort.] Don't try anything while I'm not here.
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Ed is having a hard time thinking. He's still dizzy. His face feels hot - probably a fever. Blood. Lightheaded. Pain. Blacking out certain logical processes where for a singular moment he thought now was a good idea to indulge in something he thinks Oswald wants just because. Because? He's so tired. The depth of the injury doesn't appear to be fatal but it's still bad enough to remove a logical thought process. Clearly! There is no other reason he would lean in like that. He doesn't want to do that.
Oswald smelt good. Ed must have that metallic blood scent. Dirt. Sweat. Disgusting. Looking at him is out of the question right now. He keeps his eyes shut. ] I'm not going to. [ A quiet reply, soft. But still with an edge to it that makes it obvious he may have rolled his eyes behind his closed lids. ]
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True to his word he didn't take too long to get back to Ed, though he had needed to take multiple trips to bring everything. And then there had been the part where Spinda had insisted on helping so he'd ended up making an extra trip just to carry him while he carried a pair of socks. He also insisted on handing them to Ed personally, so Oswald begrudgingly allowed it before placing him outside of the room and shutting the door. Putting his mind on the task of gathering things was enough to keep his nerves mostly at bay, but once he actually started doing things it was going to be more difficult. He still hadn't had the nerve to really look at Ed aside from focusing solely on his face. How on earth was he going to do this? ] I'm... going to start now. Is that okay?
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There's multiple trips, which he can't imagine Oswald is enjoying the extra walking after having to carrying him all the way here. It wasn't too many things, was it? Everything he asked for could've been one trip. There's certainly more being brought in than planned. Like towels. Towels are a good idea, actually. Oswald really is the best. Ed feels quiet useless just watching this - and fading in and out. Missed one of the trips entirely and had to pat his face to try and wake himself up. Nothing more, right? He goes to say something only for Spinda making his helpful contribution by personally handing him a pair of socks. Shoving it into his hand excitedly and making sure Ed looked at him while he did it. Good job.
Did Spinda pick these out? These aren't Oswald's color. He would've went for the purple socks. Ed's holding them with an bemused expression for a moment then puts them down to look at him. ] I can talk you through it if you need.
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Initially he'd had to talk the bizarre little creature out of doing more reckless things like carrying his glasses, but at least the event had cut through some of the rising tension. He hoped it had, anyway. If nothing else, at least now they wouldn't hear pounding on the door while Oswald tried to dress Ed's wounds. Which was happening now. He couldn't delay any longer. His eyes flickered upward, and immediately he could feel the heat on his face. Oh mercy, was he hopelessly attractive. ]
That might be best. In favor of not making a mistake. I wouldn't want to do any more damage. [ And it would give him something to concentrate on instead of how Ed actually was irresistibly handsome in every possible way. ]
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What is Oswald looking at? Mouth dry, Ed licks his lips again and takes a deliberately slow breath to prepare for the inevitable sting he's going to end up feeling. Okay. Concentrating now.
He starts giving carefully stated instructions for proper first aid, looking up the majority of the time. Recited from perfectly recalled memory with little antidotes from practice. Voice low and a little raspy because it's painful. A grip of Oswald's arm at one point to guide him because OWW!
But good job. Far more helpful than he'd imagine anyone else. Oswald can follow instructions and didn't need some of them. Common sense. He's smart enough to know. ]
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