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."
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It's true. She would have loved you. She would have been very confused by you but she would have loved you.
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So, like you? I can imagine. Shame I never got to meet her.
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I'm not confused by you at all. Except for when you whatszap me. And yes, it is a shame. I am saddened every day by it.
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Whatsapp. And you're confused every time I start talking about my plots or technology.
I know. I'm just glad you never had to meet my father.
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You talk to fast and you use weird words!
Your father? Is he still alive?
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'Too' fast, you forgot an o. I realise it's likely a typo, but you know how I am.
Let's not discuss this over text. Maybe at home.
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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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