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Friday Evening
What woke Oswald wasn't Edward shifting beside him, but the sound of the apartment door. He tried to roll onto his side, but regretted it. The stab of pain in his knee was so intense as to seem surreal. He cried out, unafraid of letting Edward hear him after what they'd done that morning.
Edward almost dropped the brown paper bag he'd been juggling in addition to his keys. He set it down and rushed to the bed, gingerly taking a seat next to Oswald on the mattress. He bent and took Oswald in his arms, the agitated rise and fall of his chest against Oswald's reassuring.
“Where have you been?” Oswald asked. “Running around while drugs have me down for the count?”
“Your mother called earlier, after you went back to sleep,” Edward explained, kissing Oswald's forehead. “She wanted some help with a cooking day to restock the freezer, so I went.”
“I can't believe you've been a five-minute walk away for all this time,” Oswald said. “I could've been keeping your bed warm and missing out on Mom's snoring. Don't tell her I told you that.”
Edward gave him a proper kiss this time, attentive lips and faintly herbal breath. He sighed against Oswald's mouth, parting his lips when Oswald nudged at them with his tongue.
“I am a graveyard of secrets,” he said, imitating Gertrud's inflection without parodying her accent.
“How many of her figures of speech have you picked up?” Oswald asked, wincing as Edward shifted.
“Probably several,” Edward said, frowning as he sat up. “She sent some food back with me, so we should eat it while it's still warm. Better if you take your next dose on a full stomach.”
“Is it goulash or marha pörkölt?” Oswald asked, pushing himself onto his elbows with a hiss.
“You're going to have to translate,” said Edward, busy removing his shoes. “It's beef stew with rice.”
“Beef stew,” Oswald confirmed, taking hold of Edward's arm so he wouldn't tip face-first off the edge of the mattress while he tugged off his socks. “Shouldn't you leave those on? It's chilly.”
“I'm just going to make us some bowls and come right back to bed,” Edward said, getting to his feet.
Oswald watched him fetch the bag from next to the door, enjoying the view. Edward was skinny, but his legs and backside were pleasing. And there was the way he felt in Oswald's arms.
“Hurry,” Oswald said, impatiently arranging the pillows so he could sit up against them. “I'm cold.”
“Makes two of us,” Edward replied, already at the kitchen counter. He removed three plastic containers from the bag, one of which he took directly to the refrigerator. He came back with a pair of bowls that he'd grabbed from somewhere on the far side of the kitchen. “It's raw out there.”
“You could take more clothes off,” Oswald suggested, unable to resist seeing what Edward would do.
Edward looked up from the task of divvying out the rice, eyes gone comically wide behind his glasses.
“Why would I do that?” he asked, hesitantly enough to suggest he was brainstorming for reasons.
“I like watching you do things for me,” Oswald said, licking his lower lip. “Especially naked.”
“Did things backwards, didn't I, letting you see me like that before we even kissed,” Edward muttered, tossing the empty take-away container in the sink. He came back to the counter, gracing Oswald with something like a yearning glance. Instead of opening the remaining container of stew, he picked apart the knot of his tie and let it hang loose. “Like this?” he asked, unbuttoning his collar.
Heat flared in Oswald's belly as Edward stripped down to his undershirt, at war with his hunger pangs.
“Sure,” Oswald agreed, ruing his sudden inarticulacy. Had he always been so useless when faced with an especially attractive man? “You're not going to wear those trousers to bed, are you?”
Even the sorriest excuse for dirty-talk on earth, it seemed, was sufficient to render Edward speechless.
“If we weren't intimately involved, I'd call this exploitative,” he grumbled, hastily unbuckling his belt.
“Intimately involved,” Oswald echoed, uncertain whether he found it endearing or cringe-worthy. “Anybody else would just say we're fucking, Ed. Because we are.”
“Only the once,” Edward shot back, leaving his trousers in a puddle on the floor. “This morning. And I somehow doubt what we did is the standard definition of—of—”
“Making love,” Oswald said, trying a different semantic approach. “It's definitely one definition.”
“I was going to say fucking,” Edward mumbled, the word scarcely intelligible as he spooned the stew out in equal portions over the bowls of rice, “since you're clearly so keen.”
“I don't care what we call it,” Oswald said, letting one side of Edward's robe slip down over his shoulder, “as long as we keep doing it.” He flushed in spite of himself. “Do you agree?”
“Just as long as we're on the same page about it being more,” Edward said, avoiding Oswald's gaze as he made his way to the bed with one bowl balanced in each palm. He'd stuck forks in both.
“Uh, hello,” Oswald said, taking both bowls from him as soon as he arrived. “I won't sleep with just anyone, and you've met my mother,” he went on, tilting his head toward the bathroom. “Meds?”
“Oh,” Edward said, dashing to fetch the bottle of painkillers. He made a detour back to the kitchen after that, running Oswald a glass of water from the tap. “My bad,” he added, bringing the water to the nightstand. He uncapped the bottle and shook some into his palm. “Here.”
Oswald traded one of the bowls for two tablets. He stuck them in his mouth, swallowed half of the water, and then scooted over as much as he could manage. Patting the mattress, he sighed. The sofa would've given them more room.
Edward climbed onto the bed and settled beside him, taking an eager bite of stew. “Do you mean it?”
“Do I mean what?” Oswald asked, digging in. He'd missed his mother's cooking so much he could cry.
“That you won't, you know,” Edward said pensively, pushing his food around, “sleep with just anyone.”
Oswald took a few more purposeful bites, and then set his bowl on the nightstand. As adorable as it was to see Edward so moody, he was getting the sense that Edward couldn't bear a lack of clarity. He leaned in and nuzzled Edward's neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss just beneath his ear.
“You were my first,” Oswald whispered, nibbling Edward's earlobe, “because I wanted you to be.”
Edward breathed harshly through the bite of stew he'd just taken, scarcely able to hold up his bowl.
“You were mine, too,” he said, awkwardly reaching across Oswald to set his bowl aside. “My only.”
Oswald helped Edward make sure it didn't fall off the edge of the nightstand, turning back to him as soon as he was sure they wouldn't have a disaster to clean. He cupped Edward's cheek as Edward kissed him, wondering if the giddiness he felt was increased by the oxycodone kicking in.
“So handsome,” Oswald said, tugging up the hem of Edward's undershirt, “and so, so clever.”
“Your mother took my suggestion about cutting the salt and adding more garlic,” Edward stammered.
“I knew something was different, but I couldn't—” Oswald stroked Edward's belly, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of Edward's strained briefs “—put my finger on it.”
Edward had all but stopped breathing, leaning heavily against Oswald while he pushed into the touch.
“So, so good,” Oswald murmured, hiding his face in the crook of Edward's neck. “How does it feel?”
“Like...” Edward whimpered urgently, straining into Oswald's touch. “Like your hand belongs there.”
Licking Edward's earlobe again, Oswald circled his index finger over one peaked nipple after the other.
Edward came with a choked moan, the back of his head connecting painfully with the metal bed-frame.
“I didn't mean for that to happen,” Oswald soothed, rubbing the spot while Edward tried to recover.
Panting into Oswald's hair, Edward slid an uncharacteristically trembling hand between Oswald's legs.
“No need,” Oswald murmured, kissing Edward's cheek, slumping into him. “I think it's the...stuff.”
“Stuff,” Edward echoed, idly caressing Oswald's thigh instead. “Speaking of, can we finish eating?”
“Two-track mind,” Oswald said, reaching for Edward's bowl with his unaffected hand. “Impressive.”
Saturday Morning
Aside from Gertrud's photographs, Edward hadn't yet seen Oswald polished and put-together. He slept with Edward's arm clutched like a security blanket, unable to lie on his side for long due to the discomfort it caused him. Without brilliantine, his hair was a chaotic, feathery mess.
Edward sighed, breathing in the softness of it until Oswald stirred and swatted at Edward's forearm.
“You need to unlearn the whole morning-person thing, like, yesterday,” Oswald groused, yawning.
“I usually wake up when I need to,” Edward said, “but I still set an alarm in case. You smell nice.”
“Well, you don't need to be up this early on a weekend,” Oswald pointed out. “Neither do I.”
“I wanted to watch you sleep,” Edward said, realizing only too late that might be the wrong response.
“You do like to stare,” Oswald mumbled, curling onto his left side while Edward supported his leg, nosing at Edward's bare chest. “You're the least subtle person I've ever met, and I have met hundreds in my line of work.”
“You're fascinating,” Edward replied, “and extremely handsome. I thought so even before—”
“My mother showed you a bunch of embarrassing photos, didn't she?” Oswald asked reproachfully.
“So far, only one was from when you were a child,” Edward reassured him, realizing that Oswald had begun to squirm with impatience. He tugged Oswald's robe out of the way, letting Oswald press shamelessly against his bare hip. “The rest were relatively recent.”
“I can’t imagine why you find me attractive, especially in this condition,” Oswald gasped, fingers tightening at Edward’s nape and at the small of Edward’s back. “Nobody else does.”
“Their loss,” Edward said, kissing along Oswald’s jaw. “Can I look at you?” he breathed hesitantly.
“You’ve been looking at me for days,” Oswald retorted, but the kisses rendered him pliant. “How?”
“Like this,” Edward said, easing Oswald onto his back. He didn’t look pleased to find himself lying the way he’d been stuck for the better part of a week, but the fact that Edward immediately parted the robe to expose as much of him as possible seemed to prevent complaint. “You’re very…”
Oswald batted his eyelashes at Edward in a fit of drowsy sarcasm. “You’re worse than I am.”
“At what?” Edward blurted, rubbing at Oswald’s nipples the way Oswald had done with his the night before, pleased when Oswald arched and whimpered. “Surely not sex, if that’s what you mean.”
“At talking,” Oswald panted, enjoying the fact that Edward had pinched one side after the other, “when there’s…somebody you find attractive.”
Understanding, Edward bent low and kissed Oswald on the mouth. He pinched Oswald’s nipples again, thrilled when that resulted in a muffled groan and Oswald jerking against him.
“Ed, please,” Oswald whimpered, tugging both of Edward’s hands significantly lower. “Don’t tease.”
Edward stopped kissing him so that he could sit back, settling more comfortably between Oswald’s spread thighs. He wanted a clear view this time, wanted to know what kind of touch it would take.
“You’re very pretty,” he said, giving Oswald’s erection a firm stroke, “is what I meant to say.”
Oswald had closed his eyes so tightly that it looked painful, his chest rising and falling too rapidly.
“As long as you…don’t mean it like…” He struggled to lie still, thighs tensing. “The bad way, I…”
“How could anyone mean it like that,” Edward murmured, concentrating on the soft, glistening blush he found on working back Oswald’s foreskin. “Does this feel all right?”
“I want…” Oswald opened his eyes a fraction, cheeks stained nearly as bright as the head of his cock.
“Feels better like this,” Edward said, shifting forward so their chests brushed, kissing him on a hunch.
Oswald sobbed into Edward’s mouth, clenching so forcefully that Edward had to keep one hand braced on Oswald’s right thigh to immobilize him. He kissed Oswald through his climax, enthralled.
“Oh my God,” managed Oswald, once he’d found his breath. “Not sure why that’s…so different…”
“Than when you do it alone?” Edward supplied helpfully, letting his weight rest on Oswald in a happy sprawl. He wasn’t aroused, but it was understandable given how much focus he’d placed on observation and on making sure Oswald didn’t hurt himself. “Surprising, isn’t it.”
Oswald blinked up at him adoringly, sleepier and messier than ever. “Still think I’m handsome now?”
“I can’t find enough words for what I think about you,” Edward told him, resting in sheer contentment.
Sunday Afternoon
Oswald shouldn’t have been surprised that Edward was often tedious in full-on caretaking mode. It went a long way to explaining why Edward and his mother were getting along so well, too.
“You need to shower at least every couple of days while you’re recovering,” Edward insisted, helping Oswald out of bed. “Bandage changes are all well and good, but the rest of you—”
“As long as it keeps you interested in sleeping with me,” said Oswald, snidely. “That’s the catch.”
“You’re not as bad as when I found you,” Edward said, hobbling them patiently to the bathroom.
“You’ve been doing the same things I have,” Oswald replied. “Not conducive to staying pristine.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but I’m shocked you’re even interested,” Edward said, getting him settled in the makeshift shower chair, which they hadn’t moved since Edward had first put it there.
Oswald shrugged, letting Edward strip him of the only thing he wore, which was the bandage on his leg. They’d both dispensed with the propriety of pajamas the previous night; what was the point?
“I’d prefer our honeymoon phase under less inconvenient circumstances,” he said, “but c’est la vie.”
Edward turned on the water, flinching as vehemently as Oswald at the initial cold burst. Once it ran hot enough, he adjusted the spray to a gentler setting, and then went on his knees.
“I’m amazed at how significantly the swelling has gone down,” he said, examining Oswald’s knee before prodding at his ankle. “This is where most of your trouble is,” he said, frowning at it.
“I sprained that one when I was nineteen,” said Oswald, in irritation. “It’s been slightly off ever since.”
“What do you mean by off?” Edward asked, carefully lowering Oswald’s right foot back onto the tile. He set his hands on Oswald’s thighs, rubbing absently. “Weaker than your left?”
“More likely to do that collapsing thing,” Oswald said, distracted by how unfairly attractive Edward was with his hair wet and his glasses off, “and swells a little when the weather changes.”
Looking troubled, Edward leaned forward and pecked Oswald’s breastbone. “Even after I get you a proper leg brace and crutches tomorrow,” he said, “you’ll need an ankle brace after those are gone.”
“Thought you were going to keep me in bed for six weeks,” Oswald said. “Not such a hard sell now.”
“Six to eight, depending on the pace of your recovery,” Edward cautioned, but his fingers had already found Oswald’s half-hard cock. “I have to go back to work in the morning, so I should probably take you home on my way,” he said with regret. “Either that or, well—if you stay, you’ll need to move around to get things, and I can’t let you do that unaided.”
Speechless, Oswald watched him close his eyes and take the tip of Oswald’s erection between his lips.
“Oh,” he breathed, cradling Edward’s cheek as the sensation overwhelmed him. “Ed—Edward, I—”
“Not enough?” asked Edward, anxiously, stroking Oswald to fill the brief down-time. “Too much?”
“Exactly what you were doing,” Oswald sighed, tipping his head back under the spray, “was fine.”
“Thank God,” Edward said, licking Oswald’s slick belly, “because I don’t think I can swallow you.”
“You feel so good,” Oswald insisted, scratching encouragingly at Edward’s scalp. “You have no idea—”
“You’ll have to show me,” Edward mumbled, busy sucking him again. “If…I mean, if you want…”
“When I’m better,” replied Oswald, raggedly, already closer than he’d like, “there’s no end to what I’m going to do to you. If you have any requests, start making—ah, ah—fuck, a list.”
Edward peered up at him from beneath lowered lashes, cheeks pink with a blend of humidity and embarrassment. He ran his tongue from Oswald’s slit down the underside of his cock.
Oswald didn’t have time to give warning, but Edward was busy nuzzling and licking the base of him now, so it was all right. He held Edward in place, gasping soundlessly as he came.
Edward stopped what he was doing, sat back, and gave Oswald a few light strokes through the last of it.
“You make the best faces,” he said, and Oswald opened his eyes to see that sweet, ridiculous grin.
“Shut up,” Oswald panted, tugging at Edward’s shoulders to indicate that he should stand. “Are you…”
“I don’t see why that matters,” Edward said, sheepish as Oswald studied his erection at close range.
Oswald set Edward’s hands on his shoulders for balance, leaning forward to give him a pointed lick.
“Oh,” Edward said, the exhalation breaking on a cry as Oswald took him deep. “Oh dear.”
Monday Morning
Six o’clock in the morning, and Oswald had apparently been awake before Edward and his alarm. Awake enough to kiss Edward the moment he’d opened his eyes; awake enough to rub sleepily against him and whisper the kind of unexpected filth that had Edward coming in seconds.
“I don’t want to go,” Edward whispered, breathless, hopelessly tangled with Oswald. “I wish…”
Oswald couldn’t seem to follow what Edward was saying—cheek plastered to Edward’s collarbone, eyes tightly closed, breathing still uneven. He clung so sweetly it made Edward’s chest ache.
“I don’t want to, either,” he finally said. “Home, I mean. Mom’s going to be so tedious, I can’t even.”
“I won’t be able to bring you the brace and crutches until after work,” Edward sighed. “You’ll have no way to get things without limping around like you were when I found you.”
“Maybe if you brought her here till you got off work?” Oswald ventured. “She’d clean for you.”
“I don’t want her to do that,” Edward said vehemently. “She doesn’t know my system, and—”
“Tell me what she shouldn’t do,” Oswald said, soothing him with a kiss. “I’ll make sure.”
“Touch anything,” Edward muttered. “Except…maybe those dishes in the sink, I guess. She can leave them in the drying rack. I’ll put them away.”
“You don’t want her going through your cupboards or rearranging anything, is what I’m getting here.”
“I don’t want her going through my closets or my drawers, either,” Edward warned. “You promise?”
“Ed, I promise,” Oswald said, hugging him tightly. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the mess.
“I’m going to have to shower you again,” Edward said. “Now, or I won’t have time to get her.”
“Fine,” Oswald said, throwing back the covers. “I’ll have to keep her from changing the bed, too.”
“It’s the…signs of what we’ve been doing I worry about most,” Edward admitted, helping him up.
“This is going to sound crazy, but I’ll let you in on a secret,” Oswald said, supporting Edward as much as Edward was supporting him. “Mom’s so glad she gets to be the only woman in my life that I didn’t even really have to come out. I think those protests about painted sluts are the only excuse she can find when she’s worried. Because she knows, I mean knows, that I’m not interested.”
“She isn’t going to care that we’re…intimate?” Edward asked, dubious even presented with evidence.
Oswald snorted, hitting the light switch as they entered the bathroom. “As traditional as her upbringing was, I wouldn’t be surprised if she thinks I owe it to you,” he said, deadpan.
“I don’t want her to be operating under that assumption,” said Edward, uneasily. “I didn’t save your life in exchange for sex. It was a mutual decision, end of story.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t fucked up,” Oswald agreed, propping himself on the edge of the sink while Edward adjusted the water. “It’s just the way her mind works. I can’t rewire it. I’ve tried.”
“I think—” Edward closed his eyes, taking a moment to lose himself in the comfort of near-scorching water, wondering whether he ought to go there or not “—my parents might have believed similarly.”
“Something tells me your parents don’t want to know everything about you,” Oswald said, suddenly close, his hands splayed on Edward’s faintly-scarred back. “That’s just…” He turned Edward around under the onslaught of water, drawing him down into a kiss. “Want me to kill them?”
“No need,” said Edward, shocked that he could find it in himself to laugh so sincerely. “They’re dead.”
“Pity,” Oswald said, eyes bright and cold even in the weak, orange-tinted light. “Would’ve been fun.”
Edward imagined Oswald with a broken bottle. With a knife. So swift, so decisive, that the attractiveness of the scenario was undeniable. He kissed Oswald sloppily, breathing strained.
“What were you saying about work?” said Oswald, coyly, as Edward backed him up against the tile.
“You’re worth running late,” Edward replied, biting Oswald’s neck, "and your mother won’t mind.”