Work Text:
While in Japan, Wilde followed the news from London as closely as he could for as long as he could. As the situation devolved, so did the quality of reporting. His weekly mail deliveries slowed to a halt when most of the major newspapers began, one by one, to shut down.
A few of his informants (the one or two who, through some miracle, were still alive,) managed to send him letters from time to time. Desperate for whatever information he could gather, he read each missive closely and carefully. One afternoon, as the monsoons poured down in buckets, he settled down to read a particularly grim update from one of his agents near Staffordshire. It was tough for him to find a comfortable position for his long legs under the japanese style tables at the inn, but he was getting accustomed to it. He didn't realize Zolf had walked into the room until the dwarf clanked a tray down in front of him, making him jump.
Wilde blinked.
"What on earth have you brought me?" He asked.
Zolf, settling across from Wilde in a way that wasn't too hard on his prosthetic legs, gave Wilde an irritated little look.
"I thought it were obvious."
Wilde did not respond, blinking again at Zolf.
"They're... I mean, you know what a muffin is, right?" Zolf explained.
Wilde shook his head. "You cannot possibly have brought me muffins."
"I think I blummin' well just did."
"Are they... warm?"
"Fresh out of the... well it's not an oven exactly, I made them on the sort of stovetop in there. I thought you might be homesick for some English food. I noticed you don't seem to like fish all that much..."
"Zolf, I cannot eat these muffins." Wilde protested, somehow managing to sound both aloof and annoyed. "I'm too upset."
"...what?"
"One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them."
"What on Earth are you talking about?"
Wilde touched his fingers to one another and stared at the tray of muffins as though they had just asked him a very complicated philosophical question.
"Have we any butter?" He asked.
"Well.. no..."
"That's even worse! First of all I'm upset because the bloody world is ending, and now you've brought me muffins, a food I can only eat when perfectly calm, and there isn't even any butter."
"What happens if you eat muffins when you're upset? Will your head pop off, or somethin'?" Zolf asked, taking one of the muffins and biting into it. He stared at Wilde with a searching expression.
"Look at you." Wilde sneered, shaking his head in disgust. "Eating an unbuttered muffin on an island in Japan while Brittania falls. How terribly callous."
"You... are you being serious?" Zolf asked.
Wilde refolded the letter he had been reading and pushed it to the side. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and closed his eyes, holding his hands out meditatively.
"We're in a garden." Wilde said.
"No we're not..."
"Hush. We're in a garden in Faversham, Kent. We've just been brought a tea tray by a lovely Irish servant girl who hums under her breath as she works."
"That's weirdly specific."
"There are plans for a badminton game later but we've given ourselves enough time to enjoy the tea and muffins. There is nothing wrong. I'm ahead of all my deadlines. I'm surrounded by handsome young men with whom I share a mutual understanding, and I've just been brought a tray of muffins, which are..." He let out a shaky sigh, "...still warm."
"O-ok..." Zolf said.
Wilde opened his eyes. His brow was un-furrowed, his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes seemed a bit brighter.
"If you would be so kind as to pass me a muffin, Zolf." Oscar asked, the epitome of grace.
Zolf, staring at Wilde like he was some kind of exotic creature on display at a park, slowly passed him the tray. The muffins had cooled somewhat, and were a bit tough on the bottom, but they'd still turned out rather nicely, considering the circumstances.
Oscar gave an elegant nod of thanks as he accepted the proffered baked good. He first took a sip of tea before taking a bite. He re-closed his eyes and hummed in satisfaction as he chewed.
"Dare I say... that is an excellent muffin."
"It's nothing special..." Zolf said, puffing up with pride even as he grumbled, "Don't get all weird on me."
"Mmm." Oscar said, enjoying a moment, albeit a stolen one, of peace.