"Yes. And I've been here a month already. So five more," he smiled over at Edward, rubbing his thumb over Ed's knuckles. "I promise I'll return. I... I like it here. Gotham is my home, but... You are, too. And if you're here, I want to come back. I just... I want to know what you shared with me. Before now. The future we have together beyond this place. It won't be exactly the same, I'm sure. Since I'm going to destroy that Hugo Strange fellow as soon as I find him. I won't forget that. But, I hope it will be close enough we can... compare. Once I get back."
He smiled, hesitantly. "You might not want to leave there, you know. It might be better. After Strange, all of...that." And he might find out some truly awful things that Edward did and not want to have anything to do with either version of them. Or, maybe those things will never happen and he'll want to stay.
Ed wouldn't blame him, really. That version of Ed is probably significantly less damaged.
"But it wouldn't be with you." Oswald shook his head, "I know I'll meet you. Or a version of you. I don't think it'll be the same you. But, it's not... it's not you. The you that's right here, with me, right now."
Some tears were starting to form at the edges of his eyes, "I know I'm not the same man you fell in love with. Not yet. But you still love me. The me that I am right now. And that's wonderful. But my mother... she always told me that you only get one true love. And when you find them, you run to them."
He blinked the tears back and looked right at Ed, smile bright, "Even if I meet another you when I go back, he won't be you. You're my one, Ed. The you that is here, with me, right now. No one else. I believe that."
"I do. Love you." And the Oswald that he left behind, if he's very honest with himself. If he went back home, could he stay there? He's not really sure. He doubts that Oswald would let him be, wouldn't try to refreeze him or kill him. He's not even sure he wouldn't try to kill him back.
It's better here, he thinks. He's only been here a month, and he's almost sure of it.
"Your mother sounds very wise." If nothing else, he almost does not want Oswald to go back home to spare him what happens to her. He wonders if Oswald will be angry, when he does return. If he does return. That he didn't tell him what happened.
He wonders if telling him would keep her alive. It's something to think about, isn't it? "I don't know why the idea is so upsetting me." He does, he really does know. "The way time works between worlds, you might not even be gone that long here!"
"I'll see how it works before I go. So I can see if they can pull me back at a certain hour, here. And there, I suppose. Or if it's less precise than that. But if they can, then I might not be gone for more than a few hours," he reasoned, considering asking if he might be able to bring his mother back. She'd do so much better in this place. And if he was going to stay, she should come with him. He didn't know how those rules worked. Hadn't really paid attention before. He'd have to rectify that.
"But I know that even if that's true, I will miss you," he assured Ed, "I know it'll be longer for me, so that seems obvious. But I will. So until then, we should do what we can to... get to know each other as we are. Better, I mean."
He picked up his fork again and started to pick at the remains of his meal, the other sill holding Ed's, "I was thinking... Well... I don't really date, but... we could try that?"
"I'd like that. To try that. Date, get to know each other. All of that." He has another sip of his drink with a smile. "I'll miss you too. Even if it won't be long. But we have...time. Five months." It seems like a long time and somehow not long at all.
Ed squeezed his hand before letting go so he could more properly finish his meal.
"Well, then, let's have this be the first of many," he declared, lifting his glass in a toast. When he returned, mother would be so pleased to know he wasn't seeing any painted ladies. He wasn't sure how pleased she'd be to know he was seeing a man, but she'd be very happy Ed wasn't a woman out to tear him away from her. So, points on that side.
He doubts that even he could tear Oswald away from his mother. And he doubts he'd even try, honestly. He knows how bad off Oswald was when he lost her. He wouldn't even dare to try.
"You know, we could try cooking something together over the weekend." Since he won't be working at the morgue, he assumes. And there isn't really anything happening that he's aware of.
"Oh... you don't think I'd get in your way?" Oswald had only really attempted to cook when Ed wasn't there to do it. Ed was by far the better chef. And he was feeling rather spoiled because of it. He liked the feeling.
"I mean, I'd love to. But I've seen you cook. You... you're great at it."
"In the way? No, not at all. It could be..." What's the word he wants here. Hmm. "Fun?" But, a smile at the compliment. "Thank you. I like it. Cooking. For you. I didn't cook as much before you arrived." Cooking for yourself is hardly as interesting.
"If you want to, then yes," he agreed, feeling a bit giddy. The night had gone well. Was going well.
"Maybe you can teach me a few things. Mother was more of a traditionalist in a lot of ways. She insisted on cooking. I only learned a little from her and if it wasn't cookies or something I could lick the spoon after, she'd shoo me out of the kitchen so I wouldn't try to eat it too soon. But some of the simpler stuff, things from the 'homeland', she did try to pass those down. So I'd have some connection to my roots."
Hence the soup he'd made his first night here and a few of the other things since.
"That was kind of her," he remarks. He fiddles with his fork before eating a little more of the fish. "I'm sure I could teach you a few things about cooking. Or, at the very least, we can make some cookies." And he'll even let Oswald lick the spoon.
Already, he is trying to think of recipes that would be simple enough to teach or learn with the level of cooking skills Oswald has. Of course he is.
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Ed wouldn't blame him, really. That version of Ed is probably significantly less damaged.
...good lord, don't be jealous of yourself.
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Some tears were starting to form at the edges of his eyes, "I know I'm not the same man you fell in love with. Not yet. But you still love me. The me that I am right now. And that's wonderful. But my mother... she always told me that you only get one true love. And when you find them, you run to them."
He blinked the tears back and looked right at Ed, smile bright, "Even if I meet another you when I go back, he won't be you. You're my one, Ed. The you that is here, with me, right now. No one else. I believe that."
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It's better here, he thinks. He's only been here a month, and he's almost sure of it.
"Your mother sounds very wise." If nothing else, he almost does not want Oswald to go back home to spare him what happens to her. He wonders if Oswald will be angry, when he does return. If he does return. That he didn't tell him what happened.
He wonders if telling him would keep her alive. It's something to think about, isn't it? "I don't know why the idea is so upsetting me." He does, he really does know. "The way time works between worlds, you might not even be gone that long here!"
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"But I know that even if that's true, I will miss you," he assured Ed, "I know it'll be longer for me, so that seems obvious. But I will. So until then, we should do what we can to... get to know each other as we are. Better, I mean."
He picked up his fork again and started to pick at the remains of his meal, the other sill holding Ed's, "I was thinking... Well... I don't really date, but... we could try that?"
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"Well, then, let's have this be the first of many," he declared, lifting his glass in a toast. When he returned, mother would be so pleased to know he wasn't seeing any painted ladies. He wasn't sure how pleased she'd be to know he was seeing a man, but she'd be very happy Ed wasn't a woman out to tear him away from her. So, points on that side.
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"You know, we could try cooking something together over the weekend." Since he won't be working at the morgue, he assumes. And there isn't really anything happening that he's aware of.
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"I mean, I'd love to. But I've seen you cook. You... you're great at it."
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"Maybe you can teach me a few things. Mother was more of a traditionalist in a lot of ways. She insisted on cooking. I only learned a little from her and if it wasn't cookies or something I could lick the spoon after, she'd shoo me out of the kitchen so I wouldn't try to eat it too soon. But some of the simpler stuff, things from the 'homeland', she did try to pass those down. So I'd have some connection to my roots."
Hence the soup he'd made his first night here and a few of the other things since.
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Already, he is trying to think of recipes that would be simple enough to teach or learn with the level of cooking skills Oswald has. Of course he is.