Edward didn't reply any more, because he was working on creating a pasta dish up to his standards and according to Oswald's taste, which was not actually that difficult, but still required quite a bit of concentration. Luckily he knew his lover's tastes very well and luckily they also had very similar tastes. It worked in their favour where a lot of things were concerned. Food, murder, movie choices...
"Hello, Ed." As Oswald came into the kitchen, he shed his suit jacket and draped in neatly over the back of a chair, coming over to stand beside him and inspect what he was doing. It looked amazing, as always, but then everything he did was awfully amazing. Edward was a very talented man. "I'm pleased to inform you that my profits have almost doubled at the Iceberg lounge this month. It has been a good year for business." And for buff men who needed a job and weren't shy.
"I'm glad your passion is leading you to success, my dear friend." Edward turned around so he could kiss Oswald, bending down to meet his lips. Then he focused on the pan in front of him again, watching it critically. "It's a prime location and everyone who is anyone wants to be seen there, so I'd not be surprised if you'll soon have to start turning people away. White wine, I think, if you want to pick one?"
"Isn't that exciting? I couldn't ask for more." Oswald moved over to where they stored their wine, or at least where they stored some of it anyway. They did have a wine cellar but some also remained upstairs for easy access. He eyed up the selection and picked out the best of the selection, presenting it for Edward's approval. It was all up to Edward, he was better at judging wine than Oswald. "This one?"
"Good choice," Edward confirmed with a smile as he turned the flame down, standing upright and moving just enough to face Oswald. His smile was a little uncertain for a moment, before it simply vanished and he looked over at his sauce again, stirring it a couple of times. "I don't know."
"You don't know what exactly?" With a frown, he set the wine down on the table and moved closer to Edward, leaning against the kitchen counter top with his arms crossed, curious what he meant. "What's wrong? You look -- uneasy. Did I do something wrong? Is it the wine?" Did he pick a bad wine and Edward was trying to lie to make him feel better? He knew how hard Edward found lies. It wasn't worth the agony in the end.
"No, the wine is fine." It really was, or he'd have had to say differently at least now. Lying wasn't easy to him and there was a reason he was renowned for his bluntness and inability to hold anything back. He simply wasn't capable. Edward shook his head and stirred the sauce, since that was easier to focus on. "I meant that I don't know if my father is alive. You asked."
"Oh. Oh, that. Okay. You know we don't have to discuss it." Edward didn't seem to be finding it easy to discuss his father and Oswald didn't want to push. It didn't seem right. To ease him, he tried to shift the burden more onto himself. "Absent fathers are often difficult to track. I only met mine during a crazy happenstance and my time with him was very brief. Fathers can be a peculiar thing. They're nothing compared to mothers."
"My father raised me. I've no idea who my mother is. Zip, nada, zilch." Edward didn't find it easy to admit ignorance of anything, but Oswald deserved to know him. More than that, it would have felt like self-denial to not admit to it now and he had decided to stop holding anything back quite some time ago now. So if that meant letting his life's love know that, no, he didn't know everything and, moreover, that he might even choose not to know some things, he would do just that.
"That's a real shame. She's clearly missing out. Her son is a genius, a brilliant man. He's pretty much the ruler of Gotham. If I was her, I would be kicking myself for missing out on that." Oswald didn't believe that anyone should be without their mother and losing his own had been so awful, he couldn't imagine just not having one. It seemed so unfair. He wished he could do something about him. "I'm sorry you don't know, I know that must frustrate you."
"She left before I can remember. When I was very young and felt lonely, I used to think about her coming back. But there is something to be said for not having known a parent's love, I believe." Mostly that it made for someone really screwed up in his case, but he also regarded it as something that had made him stronger. "I've decided I don't want to know anything about my father. Wilful ignorance, if you will."
"My father walked out on us when I was very young, I remember how painful it can be." To know that he was missing someone so important. He hated to see Edward so sad, he hated to see anyone he loved looking so sad. "We don't have to talk about it any more. Your parents, or lack of one, is not important right now. What is important is that we will have a wonderful dinner together and you no longer have to feel lonely. Ever. You have me."
Edward almost said something else, but then he just shook his head and flashed a smile, focusing back on cooking just in time to drain the pasta. He hadn't talked about this with anyone, not ever. Not even in Arkham, where the therapists were so eager to get everyone talking about their parents. "Thank you, Oswald. You have changed me in ways I couldn't have anticipated. I suppose that's why I want you to know where I've come from. Where I got my scars, metaphorically and physically. I want you to know me. No secrets. It's strange."
"I know the feeling. I don't like when we have secrets. I love you, Edward. Every part of you. We've seen each other at our worst. You've seen me lose my temper, you've seen me defeated, hurt, even tarred and feathers. If you can still love me after all of that, I can still love you no matter what too." Oswald smiled as he pulled himself playfully up onto the counter top, which took more effort than he was proud of, looking at the other and playfully prodding him with his foot. "I like knowing everything about. So please always tell me."
He slid along the counter top so he was closer, looking at the other fondly. "It's times like this, I miss my mother the most. I wish you could have had a chance to be loved by her as well. A good parental figure."
Edward smiled politely and finished mixing the pasta in with the sauce, then moved back over to Oswald to stand between his knees and lean forward, kissing him leisurely. Better than imagining how strange it would have been to meet Oswald's mother, after everything he had learned about her from the man over their time together. "Alas. Nothing to be done about it. I'll just make sure you never meet my father to make up for it."
He kissed Edward back and playfully ran his fingers through the other's hair, messing it up a little so it was nice and ruffled. Edward tamed his hair ever so neatly and it always baffled Oswald. It looked so much nicer when he had ruffled bedhead, it was an adorable look. "I'm sure you're saving me from an awful meeting but if I did meet him, it'd be hard not to hurt him." No one hurt Edward and lived to tell the tale. "My dashing, handsome Edward. I do love you so."
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Pedantic, I remember. Thank you, love <3
Fine. Okay. We can do that.
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Apologies, but I can only be myself.
Maybe. Speaking of, I am home, when will you be?
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And I love you for it.
Not long now, maybe half an hour at most.
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I'll make dinner.
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You're too good <3
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I'll make something simple. Maybe pasta, since we can't have that anywhere else without getting shot at.
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I do miss Italian and you cook it so well. I approve. I can't wait.
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Then hurry home!
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He slid along the counter top so he was closer, looking at the other fondly. "It's times like this, I miss my mother the most. I wish you could have had a chance to be loved by her as well. A good parental figure."
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