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Oswald rather abruptly excused himself from the conversation with Ed, pointing out that it was a workday and he would like to prepare for it and at least get changed, if Ed didn’t mind.
Ed didn’t. In a blessed state he was, nothing could spoil his mood. He will tell Oswald everything about Isabella sometime later. For now, a half an hour digest had to do. It was a workday, after all.
He whistled a cheerful melody, turning from the hall to the stairs, and then the massive figure rose right before him, a mountain in an apron, blocking his way entirely. Ed opened his mouth to reprimand Olga for he almost stumbled into her, but at that moment she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and with one fierce movement threw him into the air. Ed all but squeaked. He was no small man, but this Russian woman possessed an unexpected strength.
“W-what do you think you…”
“Na svidanie ne yavilsya.” Ed was almost sure any minute now she would breathe at him with flames. “Takoy uzhin kotu pod hvost, pir. Celuyu noch shlyalsya gdeto. Mer bednyj chut’ s yma ne rehnulsya. Takoy chelovek blagorodnyj a vlubilsya v kusok govna.”
With that she let him go, turned around and walked away with dignity, while Ed tried to keep his balance, grateful to be back on earth.
What the hell was that? Ed wasn’t sure from where he knew the Russian word for “shit”, but he definitely recognized this one. The other part of message remained cryptic, and Ed made sure to memorize it. He wanted to know what the insults were exactly, and they were, without any doubt, insults. Maybe he’ll bring it up to Oswald sometime later.
If the incident swayed his happy mood, it wasn’t for long. Such a morning, even Olga can be forgiven.
On the way to the City Hall the silence in the limo was somewhat tense. Oswald clearly wasn’t inclined to talk. His eyes were red, Ed noticed, behind a little overdid make-up. Ed felt a sudden pang of guilt. Oswald’s night was by no means as exiting as his own, worrying over the disappeared friend. Oswald had that tendency to unnecessarily overdramatize things, of course. Ed will think of a way to make it up for him, but for now Isabella was all he could think about. Very soon Oswald dozed off, his head eventually settled on Ed’s shoulder, and Ed didn’t move through all the way, figuring he owed to his tired employer at least this short period of peace. And the weight of Oswald’s head, his black hear brushing Ed’s cheek, that did actually induce a warm, tender feeling inside him.
The car stopped, and Oswald woke up, startled by the position he found himself in. He jerked away from Ed immediately, mumbling apologies, blushing under the layer of powder.
“Please, Oswald, it’s all right!” Ed cut him off with a smile. “By all means, that was no trouble. I am sorry for keeping you awake, I truly am.”
Oswald blinked at him once.
“Heart keeps its own time.” He returned a smile, if a bit forced, and without further ado made it out from the car.
Somewhere along the day Ed remembered of his plan to decipher Olga’s babbling. Genuinely intrigued, he popped up to the City Hall library and snatched the general Russian-English dictionary and, after a brief consideration, a dictionary of Russian slang.
A half an hour later he sat at the table in his office, staring blankly at the words on a piece of paper.
He was absolutely sure his translation was accurate, if lacked the colorfulness of the original text, but it didn’t make any sense nevertheless.
“You stood him up on a date.” It read. “Such a dinner down the drain, a feast. Wandered somewhere all night long. Poor Mayor nearly lost his mind. Such a noble man, falling in love with a piece of shit.”
It seemed like the most complicated puzzle Ed ever met.
What did she mean a date? What did she mean in love?
His head boiled.
She’s delusional. Or, he decided, she just must’ve misunderstood something, not knowing the language. Yes, that must be it. Simple and clear.
Definitely not bringing it up to Oswald.
But then…
Ed remembered the weird way Oswald was behaving yesterday, how he would start to talk and then would stop himself, repeatedly, his confused look when he finally offered that invitation. Oh and there was some kind of special occasion for it, was there not? He said he wanted to tell Ed something.
That part Ed forgot completely.
Suddenly he felt blood pumping in his ears.
The very idea of Oswald Cobblepot, his benefactor, his mentor, his Mayor, his friend, the King of Gotham himself being in love with Edward Nygma… was totally ridiculous. And it was magnetizing.
Ed wasn’t the best to judge emotions behind the human behavior, but he dutifully made a mental list of every sign of being in love he ever learned. By the time he finished with finding Oswald-related examples to every point in the list, and it was all checked, even the sweater, Ed’s cheeks were red.
Circumstantial evidence at best. No, it was all surely a cognitive distortion, a wishful thinking of a kind.
My, my, what strange wishes for someone claiming he has just met the woman of his life. The voice came.
Ed imagined Isabella with her green eyes and shy smile and her uncanny resemblance to Kristen Kringle. His perfect second chance. Again, he felt the thrill that kept him elevated all night and all day, but it somehow faded away now in the shade of the thought of Oswald… Oswald… The thought of Oswald was a mesmerizing void, and Ed found himself falling through it.
How would he know for sure? Ed contemplated for a moment a plan to arrange some intricate scheme to extract a confession from Oswald, before dismissing it. He will only embarrass them both, and what for?
Nonsense. At this point Ed was annoyed at himself beyond measure.
It’s all probably nothing. That Russian witch just got under his skin.
But now he had to ask Oswald what he wanted to tell him at that dinner.
The day was busy, but Ed couldn’t really concentrate on work. Oswald retreated home early, and when Ed finally arrived at the mansion, the anxious anticipation in him got over the verge.
After a moment of hesitation he knocked at the door of Oswald’s bedroom.
“If city is not in flames it will have to wait until tomorrow.” Came a harsh response.
“Oswald, it’s me. It’s important.” No backing down now. And Ed will likely get a scolding.
“…Ed? Why, come in.”
Oswald lay on the cover of the bed in his father’s golden robe. His make-up was properly ruined but not removed. His injured leg rested on a pillow with an ice pack above the ankle.
“If it’s another Isabelle story, have mercy to spare me, Ed. Otherwise make it quick, I’m exhausted.” And Oswald did sound so, his voice strident.
“It’s not.” Ed answered quickly and braced himself for the next move. “There is a question I should’ve asked earlier. I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking. What was the important thing you wanted to tell me over the dinner yesterday?”
Oswald was clearly taken off guard by that, but he immediately pulled himself together. He chuckled, made a puff and waved his hand dismissively. Almost convincing.
“Oh, that. Don’t bother, Ed, it was nothing. Some silly thing, doesn’t matter now.”
It was probably nothing.
“Oswald… I apologize in advance, it’s not an appropriate question, but something got me thinking, and I am surely wrong, and I can just hope you will be generous to my mistake, as you always are…”
“Edward, what?” Oswald demanded sharply, raising a hand in a stopping gesture.
“Was this dinner supposed to be a date? As in… romantic date?”
All color left Oswald’s face at once. Now that’s how I meet my death, Ed thought while Oswald shut his eyes closed for a couple of seconds and massaged his temple, wincing. Then he suddenly got up from the bed, ice pack falling on the floor, and limped heavily to Ed, who barely managed to suppress the instinct to pull back. Oswald stopped just short of a touch.
“Yes, Ed.” Oswald said simply. “Yes, it was.” He sighed, and continued with passionate rush. “But listen, surely we can forget this minor incident now that… It was a stupid thought anyway. Please, let us pretend it has never happened and just continue being friends? We are friends, aren’t we?”
“No...”
Oswald choked on his words and took a step away, stumbling, and Ed automatically spread a hand to help steady him under the elbow, and Oswald leant on it, not really self-conscious about it either.
“Ed, I…” Oswald’s face was all confusion and shame and pain, and Ed panicked.
“That’s not what I meant!” He almost screamed. “Of course we are friends. You are my best friend, Oswald. Nothing will ever change that. But does this mean you… You… Fancy me?”
Oswald gave up a short brittle laugh.
“Yes, Ed, one might say that. But please do believe me, I swear it will never…”
“Oswald, please. You don’t need to… do this.” Ed swallowed hard, but his voice was full of determination. “I feel horrible for what I put you through yesterday. I am so sorry. I just couldn’t imagine… It must’ve been one terrible night.”
“I must admit I’ve had better.” Oswald’s smile was sad, but fond, a simple confession without reproach.
“Let me make it up for you.”
“What?” Oswald’s jaw actually went slack.
“A date. As in romantic date. Please.”
Oswald bit his lower lip, staring at Ed with utter disbelief. Then he rubbed his eyes, smearing the remains of the eyeliner and shook his head.
“But what about… Isabelle? The love of your life?”
“Breaking up with her. Yes, she’s a picture image of Kristen and yes, she is truly lovely, but… She doesn’t matter. You come first. You will always come first. I just didn’t imagine we could… you would like to… become closer.”
In the meantime the light was doing wonders with Oswald’s teary eyes, creating and destroying universes inside his pupils. Oswald smiled gracefully and nodded.
“It’s a date, then.” He sounded out of breath.
“This Friday, eight o’clock, at the mansion. Dinner is on me.”
“I will pick up a bottle of wine.”
Edward couldn’t hold a wide grin.
“Please don’t let any strangers in the shop lead you astray.”
“Never.” The earnestness in Oswald’s voice made Ed’s heart skip a bit. They both became now very aware that they were still holding onto each other. Ed cleared his throat.
“That’s settled then.” He said. “Now I believe you really need some sleep. Allow me…”
And Ed started to gently lead Oswald in the direction of the bed, and Oswald said nothing, complying, and when he sat, Ed brought his hand to the lips and placed a light kiss on his knuckles before letting it go.
“Good night, mister Mayor.”
“Good night to you, my Chief of Staff.”
Certainly Olga will not be happy about the second feast in one week.