[ 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. ]
[ Oswald felt a bit like he was under a microscope now that Ed could see properly again. He probably caught him staring. Part of him wanted to take his turn at hiding his face but that would only make it even more obvious. He didn't have much of a choice but to keep going like he hadn't just shamelessly indulged in looking at Ed without -- heavens, it sounded even worse when he thought of it in such bold terms. What business did his mind have wandering at a time like this? Concentrate, Oswald. Concentrate.
Thankfully, despite all his worry, the wound hadn't been as bad as all of that blood had made it look. It wasn't good by any stretch of he imagination, but with some guidance it had been much more easily treated than he'd feared. Embarrassment struck every so often throughout the process, especially when Ed had grabbed his arm, but he'd made it through without acting a total fool by some grace. When it was all over, he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding back. ]
Well, that was quite an ordeal. [ Oswald laughed lightly, but nothing was funny. He still felt uneasy. Like he hadn't done enough. ] I wasn't sure what you'd want to wear so I brought a few different things, but I should probably get rid of the rest of that blood first. Did you want some water? I noticed you were licking your lips, so I thought maybe... [ He trailed off. Rambling too much. Ed would never get to answer if he didn't shut up. ]
[ The fact that there had been minimal complaining and eye-rolling the entire time was a godsend, really. Neither of them panicked, just quietly concentrating. One of those moments where they are purely focused on the task and can get something done very quickly. This is why they're a good team.
Is he trying to make a joke? ] You've done well, doctor. [ Ed's making a small hum in agreement about the blood. Oh, Oswald. Bringing outfit choices. That almost gets a laugh out of him. It's just them. No one else will check that his pajamas are matching the room aesthetic. ] Water would be greatly appreciated.
[ No, it wasn't a joke. Just a desperate attempt to ground himself in a situation that had left him shaken in a multitude of ways, but he could almost breathe easier again. Not yet, but almost. He shook his head at the doctor remark, but the trace of a smile was present. They both knew full well that Ed was the real expert and had he not been able to give guidance things may not have gone as well. ] I can't take all of the credit. I happen to have a very skilled partner.
[ Oh. Oh no. That was the most awkward word he could have used. Oswald immediately put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, absentmindedly tugging at the sleeves of his jacket for lack of anything else to do with his hands. ] I'll go get that then. Excuse me a moment. [ He turned abruptly and left the room without any fanfare, groaning at himself once he was far enough out of earshot. Ed could probably hear him banging cabinets and generally being a bit too forceful with things in the kitchen though. Oops. At least that would drown out the way he was verbally scolding himself. ]
[ Oswald is no doctor but he's likely far better at it than half the people he sees at work, to be honest. Ed is, of course, the mastermind behind this skill at the moment though. He's wearing his own little smile for a second. ] That's true. You do have a skilled partner. [ And that smile quickly turns into an incredibly confused frown.
He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the pain that shift provided to try and watch him better while Oswald ...flees the room? And groans. And slams cabinets. Head tilted to the side in the best attempt to get an angle to look out the open door (it doesn't help much). The view he gets is just of Spinda happily waving and then hitting his face on the door-frame on the way in. ]
- Oswald? [ They must've said something wrong. Since the doctor line had been previously used, it would have to be the use of the word 'partner' that would be enough to go throw a fit in the kitchen for using it. That's just childish. It had a perfectly innocent context, one that technically already applied to them as people who have been working together. It doesn't always mean a romantic pair and yet Oswald's probably going to be breaking the glass before water enters it for thinking about it that way.
Ed groans himself and leans back. And then a far louder, an additional voice starts yelling: "SPIIIIIIIIINDA!" ] ...I don't need you to scream for him. He was coming back.
[ He was too busy taking out his frustration on the entire kitchen to hear Ed say his name. The fact that he'd caused him to try to sit up more properly despite that it likely hurt quite a bit just for him to leave so he could have a thorough tantrum only fueled how angry he was with himself. ] Partner. Partner. What kind of moronic fool am I? I bet he doesn't even feel anything and only keeps it up because if he didn't then I would --
[ The banging stopped. In an instant he went silent. What would he do? ... what had he done, in a different but nearly identical life? Oswald leaned his palms on the counter and squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply in the process. He almost had broken the glass, honestly. Hearing Spinda screaming at the top of its lungs startled him back to reality, but it also nearly made him roll his eyes back into his head. Sighing, he got what he'd came for and made his way back. He was just going to pretend none of that had happened. He cleared his throat for a second time before entering the room again, the water in one hand and a bottle of pain medication in the other. ]
My apologies. I forgot where I put the medicine. [ It was a highly unconvincing excuse, though in the midst of his fit he actually had misplaced it. He gestured to Spinda to try to keep the subject off of his embarrassing behavior. ] I see he found you again.
[ That silence was worrisome. He didn't hear anything break but... ]
Don't do it. [ Groaned out. Oswald comes back and Ed's got an arm over his face while Spinda's inhaling as big of a breath as he can like he was two seconds away from screaming again. You know, just to be sure Oswald really was coming back and heard him the first time. And there he is. ] -Oh good. [ He removes his arm and tries to sit up again. Spinda lets that breath go. Crisis averted. ]
It's always in the same spot. [ That is not a convincing excuse in the slightest. Ed's about to remark on it but Oswald's subject diversion works. Temporarily. Just a glance at Spinda, who is now trying to yank off Ed's socks for him so that helpful new pair he fetched can go into play. He tries so hard. ] ...Yes, he did. [ And back to Oswald. ] Everything okay?
[ Oswald stared at Spinda for a good few moments just to make sure there wasn't going to be any more screaming before looking back to Ed. He really couldn't take it if he started yelling again. Why did Ed have to know exactly where everything was even in a state like this? He didn't want to fake ignorance, but... ] I suppose it is. Silly me! [ He shrugged and looked to the side as if he'd never known where they kept the medicine to begin with before giving Ed the glass, waiting until he took to it open the pill bottle for him and hold his hand out again with the proper dose. ] Of course. Nothing to worry about. Now hurry up and take this so we can get you resting properly. [ And wearing a shirt again. But primarily resting. ]
[ Ed's staring at Oswald. That expectant look that just turns somewhat disappointed when Oswald starts faking ignorance. Okay. Oswald doesn't want to talk about that. He could press... He could. Maybe he shouldn't. He does know what it's about. He thinks he does.
He looks elsewhere. Ed accepts the water and the pills with a muttered "thank you," quickly taking them and washing it down with water. Water he almost chugs for a second before stopping himself. Holding it carefully and tapping his fingers on it between sips. Hmmm.
[ He hated that. He hated when Ed looked like he expected something and then his face fell when he didn't get it. It was unbearable in a way that weakened his defenses more and more by the second. Oswald wanted to please Ed. He really did. He didn't want to ever be the one to make him look like that. But he was still prideful, and that was one of his biggest problems. Lying or averting was both easier and safer than the truth. Despite his feelings he still had to struggle with that. He reached for one of the washcloths he'd brought to remove the blood that was still dried onto Ed's skin, but before he could bring himself to do anything he let out a sigh of defeat. He couldn't look him in the face like this. ] Just say it.
[ Lying or averting the truth was something Ed was on the receiving end of - and not something he had been doing himself. Oswald knows what he knows concerning emotional matters, mostly. He keeps feelings to himself until he has an answer about what they actually are, in any case. Oswald is difficult to comprehend. Emotional to a fault.
He's quiet until spoken to. Then he's looking at him again - inhaling a breath. Carefully pressing his lips together while looking up. Good hand going by the mouth for a moment after setting the glass aside.
It's used to gesture between them. ] Do you want a partnership? You said it and fled the room.
[ Oswald knew what Ed was going to ask him about, yet the anticipation of it was still torturous. Though, it was self inflicted torture. All of this was. Were the effects of that place still lingering in his mind or was this just how he was no matter what? He liked to think he had more control over himself than what he was displaying but the truth was likely that the latter was more true than the former. What had happened had just given him an excuse to think something else was making him act out of sorts. But this was all him, and now he had to face the consequences of that. ]
... what? [ To say he was staring was an understatement. For what felt like too long, he almost couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard. A bold question like that should have crossed his mind as a possibility but it hadn't. What was he supposed to say? His response could potentially have horrible results. But what had denial and repression gotten him? He'd been doing it all day and it had ended in him acting so out of line that he'd made himself angry. And what about no secrets? The truth might be the only answer he could live with. ]
Yes. [ Somehow he didn't look away, but his voice had been too weak. He had to repeat it. It needed more conviction. ] Yes. [ Another deep breath. He was doing that a lot these last few hours. ] I... I don't know what was whispering in the back of your head today, Ed, but there was one thing I couldn't stop thinking about above everything else. It was you. If I could spend every moment of my life with you nothing would make me happier. [ He smiled slightly, but his brows were knitted and just as quick as it came on it dissipated again. ] But what I don't want is you to agree to something just because you said you'd do anything. You deserve to be happy so much more than I ever will. If you weren't -- [ He shook his head lightly. ] My happiness doesn't matter if yours doesn't exist.
[ A question. A question wrapped in six thousand subtext questions. Questions that just by asking it, make a question. Ed is keeping an eye on Oswald now, afraid to look away from him and miss the way his face flickers everything he's thinking sometimes.
Oswald didn't exactly hesitate to give an answer. And he probably knows he knows there wasn't a 'No' to that one. Not the way he leapt right to love. He's always so damn sure of what he wants. Who he is. He has all the answers about himself. It's almost infuriating. Would be if it wasn't directed his way. Someone thinking about him all day. That's a lot. He almost regrets asking because he wouldn't be able to answer if the question was flipped. He doesn't know. The corners of his mouth twitch and he isn't sure if he was going to frown or smile.
What was whispering in the back of his own head all day? It was so muddled. He wants something. To have something. To be something. To belong somewhere. All day the whispers just cried out for him to grab attention. Take the mask off. Someone has to know it's him under there. Only one person knew it was him. Ed's just... What do a broken clock, an alligator, and a plate of cheese have in common? ]
I don't deserve to be happy over you, Oswald. [ Something with something because of something with someone. There's so much directed his way. And on his own he's .... ?
Despite how painful it is, Ed's leaning forward and into him. Just hold on to something. Maybe this works both ways with the happiness. ]
[ To answer any other way would have been such a tremendous lie that it would have hurt both of them. There was no conceivable way he could have said anything else. Just as carefully as Ed was watching him, likewise Oswald was trying to glean some kind of idea of how he felt from both his face and his body language. Neither told him much. He had always been much better at keeping his emotions hidden from an outside view, but Oswald did catch that one slip in his facade. He just didn't know what it meant. Maybe Ed didn't either. Or maybe he did and he hadn't found the best way to say whatever it was. This was one of the occasions that he couldn't decipher what he was thinking. All he could do was share what he had been feeling.
As soon as he spoke, Oswald immediately forgot how stifling the silence on Ed's end of things had started to become. He wouldn't have been able to argue Ed if he ever decided to say something about how emotional of a being Oswald was; between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes it was undeniable that he was feeling a flood of emotions. ] You're wrong. [ Again, he was shaking his head. ] You gave to me even when I was at my most ungrateful. That makes you a far greater and more deserving man than I am.
[ He wasn't sure what he was going to say next, but it turned out not to matter. Oswald didn't even have the chance to tell Ed that he shouldn't be sitting up before he found himself being securely embraced. He didn't know what that meant, either, but he felt himself relax and settle into it and let the questions fade away for just then. Carefully he wrapped his arms around Ed in return, holding him as near as possible without risking the chance of hurting him, subconsciously burying part of his face in the crook of his neck as he relished the closeness. He didn't feel so filled with turmoil on the inside when they were like this. Silence was okay for now. ]
[ He won't argue with him. He isn't sure if he's more deserving or not. He thinks he does deserve a great deal of things but his own happiness over Oswald's seems a bit much. He does deserve to be happy though, doesn't he?
Ed doesn't know what answer could be inferred with the hug. Maybe none. Rarely one to really initiate the hugs, Oswald still deserved one. Eyes squeeze shut. Embracing him so tightly - tightly both because he wants to cling to something right now and hadn't realized how desperately he wanted the comfort from it. Starved from human contact that wasn't violent. And because of the amount of pain he's in results in more of a squeeze than intended. They're good like this. Silence is okay for now.
At least until he's wincing into Oswald's shoulder because there's another living thing in the room and it tried to join in all this hugging by worming his way in and latching little arms to Ed's side. The side they just patched. Oh. He saw stars. ]
[ Before their embrace, Oswald had feared he would hear something that he didn't want to. That Ed would finally say how he really felt and put an end to his perceived reality that sometimes felt too much like a fantasy. He hadn't. Often nothing said something, and this nothing said that Ed desperately needed to be loved. The way he was nearly clinging to him made that abundantly clear. He wanted Oswald in some capacity, but to what capacity and in what manner was still a mystery. Perhaps the reason he'd said nothing is because not even he knew the answer. Maybe the puzzle wasn't what he'd thought it was.
Somewhere in the midst of things Oswald had closed his eyes too, his hand moving from the place at the back of Ed's neck where his fingers had just barely graced his hair to allow it to slide down and gently rub his back in an act of comfort. It was a bit for both of them, really. If Ed had been in any worse condition, if he'd -- no, he didn't want to think about it. He would have been lost without him.
The sudden sign of discomfort from Ed had him pulling back immediately, causing Oswald to instantly realize that he had been touching his bare skin in a very intimate way without any warning or even asking if he was okay with it. How had he been okay with it? He opened his mouth to apologize, internally reprimanding himself in a constant loop until his attention was brought to the third party that had attempted to be a part of what had been going on. Worry temporarily overrode everything else. ] No, no, no, no. [ He quickly took Spinda's arms, removing them before turning the small creature's head and pointing to Ed's bandaged injury. ] Do you see this? That means he's hurt, which also means you can't hug him there. You have to try somewhere else. Understand?
[ He didn't wait for an answer, instead picking him up and moving him to Ed's other side. Spinda didn't hesitate to attempt hug number two which only made Oswald roll his eyes and shrug lightly. ] I guess he loves you too. [ He looked back to Ed, but the way he went to bite at his bottom lip wasn't because of what he'd just said. For being so quick to react and chastise himself for using the word partner, implicating love had come so naturally and without thought that he hadn't even realized that he'd said it at all. He was, however, aware of the way he'd let his hand wander and he was still extremely embarrassed about it. ] Um. Are you alright?
Edited (i hecked up such a big one) 2017-06-23 07:36 (UTC)
[ This odd moment in time. Somewhere that didn't seem to have consequences to what was real life up until now. Gotham is so far away. No one would ever know what they're doing here. The only person here outside of the two of them is never to be heard from again back home. Everyone he killed today will likely be back by the end of the week. No consequences so no one else here really matters.
Oswald is real. Solid. Cares. Matters. What would he be doing without him? This is important. The hand on the back of his neck - moved to rub his back had put a chill through him. Maybe because it's cold hands on warm skin. Or he's the cold one? Probably not. He's likely feverish. That's why everything feels like he's underwater. He doesn't pull back, even if he knows this is likely taking things another step forward. Forcing it. Another foot in the wat-- oh he fell in.
He snapped out of that in an instant. Sharp hot pain. Spinda meant well but he really lacks the mental capacity to realize things sometimes. Ed had to pull back somewhat, grinding the heels of a palm on his eyes. Tearing up is not the plan. He has to pull the other arm into himself before Spinda unintentionally hurts his wrist further trying to give him an apologetic pat on the hand during hug number 2. ]
You're far gentler with your love than he is. I'm becoming envious of your pain tolerance, Oswald. I underestimated how high it was. [ This is horrific. Ed needs stronger pain killers. ]
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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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Thankfully, despite all his worry, the wound hadn't been as bad as all of that blood had made it look. It wasn't good by any stretch of he imagination, but with some guidance it had been much more easily treated than he'd feared. Embarrassment struck every so often throughout the process, especially when Ed had grabbed his arm, but he'd made it through without acting a total fool by some grace. When it was all over, he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding back. ]
Well, that was quite an ordeal. [ Oswald laughed lightly, but nothing was funny. He still felt uneasy. Like he hadn't done enough. ] I wasn't sure what you'd want to wear so I brought a few different things, but I should probably get rid of the rest of that blood first. Did you want some water? I noticed you were licking your lips, so I thought maybe... [ He trailed off. Rambling too much. Ed would never get to answer if he didn't shut up. ]
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Is he trying to make a joke? ] You've done well, doctor. [ Ed's making a small hum in agreement about the blood. Oh, Oswald. Bringing outfit choices. That almost gets a laugh out of him. It's just them. No one else will check that his pajamas are matching the room aesthetic. ] Water would be greatly appreciated.
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[ Oh. Oh no. That was the most awkward word he could have used. Oswald immediately put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, absentmindedly tugging at the sleeves of his jacket for lack of anything else to do with his hands. ] I'll go get that then. Excuse me a moment. [ He turned abruptly and left the room without any fanfare, groaning at himself once he was far enough out of earshot. Ed could probably hear him banging cabinets and generally being a bit too forceful with things in the kitchen though. Oops. At least that would drown out the way he was verbally scolding himself. ]
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He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the pain that shift provided to try and watch him better while Oswald ...flees the room? And groans. And slams cabinets. Head tilted to the side in the best attempt to get an angle to look out the open door (it doesn't help much). The view he gets is just of Spinda happily waving and then hitting his face on the door-frame on the way in. ]
- Oswald? [ They must've said something wrong. Since the doctor line had been previously used, it would have to be the use of the word 'partner' that would be enough to go throw a fit in the kitchen for using it. That's just childish. It had a perfectly innocent context, one that technically already applied to them as people who have been working together. It doesn't always mean a romantic pair and yet Oswald's probably going to be breaking the glass before water enters it for thinking about it that way.
Ed groans himself and leans back. And then a far louder, an additional voice starts yelling: "SPIIIIIIIIINDA!" ] ...I don't need you to scream for him. He was coming back.
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[ The banging stopped. In an instant he went silent. What would he do? ... what had he done, in a different but nearly identical life? Oswald leaned his palms on the counter and squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply in the process. He almost had broken the glass, honestly. Hearing Spinda screaming at the top of its lungs startled him back to reality, but it also nearly made him roll his eyes back into his head. Sighing, he got what he'd came for and made his way back. He was just going to pretend none of that had happened. He cleared his throat for a second time before entering the room again, the water in one hand and a bottle of pain medication in the other. ]
My apologies. I forgot where I put the medicine. [ It was a highly unconvincing excuse, though in the midst of his fit he actually had misplaced it. He gestured to Spinda to try to keep the subject off of his embarrassing behavior. ] I see he found you again.
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Don't do it. [ Groaned out. Oswald comes back and Ed's got an arm over his face while Spinda's inhaling as big of a breath as he can like he was two seconds away from screaming again. You know, just to be sure Oswald really was coming back and heard him the first time. And there he is. ] -Oh good. [ He removes his arm and tries to sit up again. Spinda lets that breath go. Crisis averted. ]
It's always in the same spot. [ That is not a convincing excuse in the slightest. Ed's about to remark on it but Oswald's subject diversion works. Temporarily. Just a glance at Spinda, who is now trying to yank off Ed's socks for him so that helpful new pair he fetched can go into play. He tries so hard. ] ...Yes, he did. [ And back to Oswald. ] Everything okay?
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He looks elsewhere. Ed accepts the water and the pills with a muttered "thank you," quickly taking them and washing it down with water. Water he almost chugs for a second before stopping himself. Holding it carefully and tapping his fingers on it between sips. Hmmm.
Oh. He lost both socks now. Good job, Spinda. ]
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He's quiet until spoken to. Then he's looking at him again - inhaling a breath. Carefully pressing his lips together while looking up. Good hand going by the mouth for a moment after setting the glass aside.
It's used to gesture between them. ] Do you want a partnership? You said it and fled the room.
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... what? [ To say he was staring was an understatement. For what felt like too long, he almost couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard. A bold question like that should have crossed his mind as a possibility but it hadn't. What was he supposed to say? His response could potentially have horrible results. But what had denial and repression gotten him? He'd been doing it all day and it had ended in him acting so out of line that he'd made himself angry. And what about no secrets? The truth might be the only answer he could live with. ]
Yes. [ Somehow he didn't look away, but his voice had been too weak. He had to repeat it. It needed more conviction. ] Yes. [ Another deep breath. He was doing that a lot these last few hours. ] I... I don't know what was whispering in the back of your head today, Ed, but there was one thing I couldn't stop thinking about above everything else. It was you. If I could spend every moment of my life with you nothing would make me happier. [ He smiled slightly, but his brows were knitted and just as quick as it came on it dissipated again. ] But what I don't want is you to agree to something just because you said you'd do anything. You deserve to be happy so much more than I ever will. If you weren't -- [ He shook his head lightly. ] My happiness doesn't matter if yours doesn't exist.
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Oswald didn't exactly hesitate to give an answer. And he probably knows he knows there wasn't a 'No' to that one. Not the way he leapt right to love. He's always so damn sure of what he wants. Who he is. He has all the answers about himself. It's almost infuriating. Would be if it wasn't directed his way. Someone thinking about him all day. That's a lot. He almost regrets asking because he wouldn't be able to answer if the question was flipped. He doesn't know. The corners of his mouth twitch and he isn't sure if he was going to frown or smile.
What was whispering in the back of his own head all day? It was so muddled. He wants something. To have something. To be something. To belong somewhere. All day the whispers just cried out for him to grab attention. Take the mask off. Someone has to know it's him under there. Only one person knew it was him. Ed's just... What do a broken clock, an alligator, and a plate of cheese have in common? ]
I don't deserve to be happy over you, Oswald. [ Something with something because of something with someone. There's so much directed his way. And on his own he's .... ?
Despite how painful it is, Ed's leaning forward and into him. Just hold on to something. Maybe this works both ways with the happiness. ]
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As soon as he spoke, Oswald immediately forgot how stifling the silence on Ed's end of things had started to become. He wouldn't have been able to argue Ed if he ever decided to say something about how emotional of a being Oswald was; between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes it was undeniable that he was feeling a flood of emotions. ] You're wrong. [ Again, he was shaking his head. ] You gave to me even when I was at my most ungrateful. That makes you a far greater and more deserving man than I am.
[ He wasn't sure what he was going to say next, but it turned out not to matter. Oswald didn't even have the chance to tell Ed that he shouldn't be sitting up before he found himself being securely embraced. He didn't know what that meant, either, but he felt himself relax and settle into it and let the questions fade away for just then. Carefully he wrapped his arms around Ed in return, holding him as near as possible without risking the chance of hurting him, subconsciously burying part of his face in the crook of his neck as he relished the closeness. He didn't feel so filled with turmoil on the inside when they were like this. Silence was okay for now. ]
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Ed doesn't know what answer could be inferred with the hug. Maybe none. Rarely one to really initiate the hugs, Oswald still deserved one. Eyes squeeze shut. Embracing him so tightly - tightly both because he wants to cling to something right now and hadn't realized how desperately he wanted the comfort from it. Starved from human contact that wasn't violent. And because of the amount of pain he's in results in more of a squeeze than intended. They're good like this. Silence is okay for now.
At least until he's wincing into Oswald's shoulder because there's another living thing in the room and it tried to join in all this hugging by worming his way in and latching little arms to Ed's side. The side they just patched. Oh. He saw stars. ]
Spinda, please let go.
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Somewhere in the midst of things Oswald had closed his eyes too, his hand moving from the place at the back of Ed's neck where his fingers had just barely graced his hair to allow it to slide down and gently rub his back in an act of comfort. It was a bit for both of them, really. If Ed had been in any worse condition, if he'd -- no, he didn't want to think about it. He would have been lost without him.
The sudden sign of discomfort from Ed had him pulling back immediately, causing Oswald to instantly realize that he had been touching his bare skin in a very intimate way without any warning or even asking if he was okay with it. How had he been okay with it? He opened his mouth to apologize, internally reprimanding himself in a constant loop until his attention was brought to the third party that had attempted to be a part of what had been going on. Worry temporarily overrode everything else. ] No, no, no, no. [ He quickly took Spinda's arms, removing them before turning the small creature's head and pointing to Ed's bandaged injury. ] Do you see this? That means he's hurt, which also means you can't hug him there. You have to try somewhere else. Understand?
[ He didn't wait for an answer, instead picking him up and moving him to Ed's other side. Spinda didn't hesitate to attempt hug number two which only made Oswald roll his eyes and shrug lightly. ] I guess he loves you too. [ He looked back to Ed, but the way he went to bite at his bottom lip wasn't because of what he'd just said. For being so quick to react and chastise himself for using the word partner, implicating love had come so naturally and without thought that he hadn't even realized that he'd said it at all. He was, however, aware of the way he'd let his hand wander and he was still extremely embarrassed about it. ] Um. Are you alright?
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Oswald is real. Solid. Cares. Matters. What would he be doing without him? This is important. The hand on the back of his neck - moved to rub his back had put a chill through him. Maybe because it's cold hands on warm skin. Or he's the cold one? Probably not. He's likely feverish. That's why everything feels like he's underwater. He doesn't pull back, even if he knows this is likely taking things another step forward. Forcing it. Another foot in the wat-- oh he fell in.
He snapped out of that in an instant. Sharp hot pain. Spinda meant well but he really lacks the mental capacity to realize things sometimes. Ed had to pull back somewhat, grinding the heels of a palm on his eyes. Tearing up is not the plan. He has to pull the other arm into himself before Spinda unintentionally hurts his wrist further trying to give him an apologetic pat on the hand during hug number 2. ]
You're far gentler with your love than he is. I'm becoming envious of your pain tolerance, Oswald. I underestimated how high it was. [ This is horrific. Ed needs stronger pain killers. ]
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