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[whatam_i]

What demands an answer, but asks no question?
....
A telephone.
And I'm not here to answer mine so please leave a message at the sound of the beep.

Comments

[whatam_i]

[The pause between texts makes him smile because it means Oswald took a moment to think about those kisses.]

That's fine.
Now that I'm up I'll probably just stay up till morning.

[A pause on his side and then:]

I'm done hammering so you can go back to sleep.

[hobblepot]

[Ed relenting? Consider him mildly suspicious.]

AND drilling?

And anything else that would be considered obnoxious and disruptive by anyone who is not you?

[whatam_i]

[He can't help but relent a little bit, the idea of Oswald all tucked in his bed thinking about their kisses has softened his stubbornness a little.]

Yes.
I've moved on to soldering work now.

[hobblepot]

Fine.

Just don't set fire to anything.

[whatam_i]

I won't.


...
But just in case...
There are fire extinguishers in the house right?

[hobblepot]

[Oh god.]

In the kitchen.

Which you won't be needing, of course.

Right, Ed?

[whatam_i]

No of course not, but better safe than sorry!

I should pick up another one for my workspace this weekend.

[hobblepot]

Yes, you do that.

Good night.

[whatam_i]

Goodnight my beautiful bird.


[Awwwwwwww isn't that sweet??
Of course that doesn't last because about three hours later Oswald is woken up by the sound of a small explosion.]

[hobblepot]

[Oswald, the light sleeper than he is, lurches upright in a sweaty, wide-eyed panic, barely able to tell up from down but convinced he's under attack when he staggers out of bed. He grabs a loaded shotgun from the closet, no time for texting.]

Ed?? [He cries out down the hall.]

ooc: I'm so mean to sleepy Os

[whatam_i]

Woooo!

[Comes the excited yelp from inside Ed's work room and then a moment later he calls out again.]

I'm okay!

you sadist, you

[hobblepot]

[Nothing is okay until Ed's safety is confirmed. Scratch that - nothing is okay, full-stop, when he stumbles, panting, into Ed's room, disheveled, jacked with adrenaline, and ready to pump some lead into the first non-Ed human being he lays eyes on. Except...

...they appear to be alone.]

*evil eyebrow waggling

[whatam_i]

[They are indeed alone, the house now blessedly quiet and still. The surface of Ed's work desk is smoldering slightly and after a second Ed lifts a hand up from under it.
Waving at Oswald.]

Hi!
Sorry!!

[Slowly he peeks over the edge of the table, his hair is disheveled and there's a small cut on his cheek.]

Just a small explosion.

[hobblepot]

[He blinks back at Ed, taking in the injury and the singed desk, none of it quite registering for the longest second of his life. His shotgun lowers, finally. It's shaking faintly in his grip.]

Soooo... we are not under attack? {He manages, his voice low and scratchy with sleep. Barely controlled.]

[whatam_i]

[Ed hauls himself up from under the desk, shaking his head.]

No.
There was an unexpected reaction between a chemical I was using and some metal.

[He comes over to Oswald, the cut on his cheek starting to dribble blood.]

[hobblepot]

[Chest heaving, he stares like he's been slapped - or like he's about to cuff Ed and give him more of a reason to bleed. Any relief he feels swiftly drowns in the rage surging through him, filling him top to bottom.]

All I asked for was a few hours of peace and quiet, [he rasps, his voice still dangerously quiet by Oswald-standards] and what I get is idiocy and reckless endangerment! [Accident, schmaccident.] Tell me, what have I done to deserve this abject lack of consideration and basic respect? [He demands.] I let you stay here, do I not?? Do you not have everything you need at your disposal?

[whatam_i]

[Ed's expression goes from innocent befuddlement at Oswald's anger to sudden cold reproach.]

Let me stay here?
I was under the impression I had moved in and was a partner.
Not a tenant.

[hobblepot]

[He lurches closer, nearly bumping Ed's chest with his chin.]

This may come as a surprise, but that does not entitle you to being an ass!

[With a sharp, huffing breath, he breaks eye contact and half turns, as if in disgust, scrubbing a hand down his face. A fat, harried vein pounds in his forehead.]

...all of this could have been avoided if you had just listened to me, for once! [Oswald whines.] But of course you had to go and... [he motions to the desk in a gesture charged with helpless frustration, letting his hand slap back to his side] nearly blow your head off with whatever it is you're doing.

[whatam_i]

I told you, I couldn't sleep! What am I supposed to do?? Just lay there and stare at the ceiling?!

If I'm going to live here then I have to be allowed to work when I want to!

[hobblepot]

What are you, five? {He snaps, whirling on him.]

Go take a walk, drink a glass of milk, count sheep, I don't care! You are a grown man, for Pete's sake - figure it out!

[whatam_i]

That's exactly my point! I don't need you telling me what to do like a child!

[He snaps back, looking down at Oswald.]

This is what I do when I can't sleep, I work!

[hobblepot]

[Oswald scoffs.]

Well, you can go 'work' in the garage. [He takes up his shotgun in both hands again, keeping it aimed at the floor.] I am going to bed.

[whatam_i]

[The temptation to dig his heels in and just go back to work is tempting but the fact that Oswald came rushing in with a shotgun to protect him is kind of sweet. Ed knows how much it hurts his leg to do that and he sighs and scrubs a hand over his mouth and jaw.]

Oswald.
Wait.

I'm sorry.
I really didn't mean to scare you like that or to wake you up.

[His hand sweeps across his work bench and then flops down at his side.]

I'm avoiding sleep because I don't want to have another nightmare.

blegh

[hobblepot]

[Halfway across the room, Oswald slows to a stop, his back to Ed. He says nothing, still charged with adrenaline, with anger, his pulse slamming his eardrums. But there’s a slight softening of his shoulders the longer the apology sits with him. He’s here and he's listening, his continued silence inviting an explanation from Ed.]

[whatam_i]

[Ed goes over to his work table, talking softly as he slowly starts cleaning up all the bits of pieces, the act helping to put his thoughts and emotions in order.]

I fully understand that dreams are nothing more than the minds way of doing some daily house-keeping, of sorting and cataloging memories. They don't mean anything and it's foolish to be scared of them.
But.

I...had a dream that Hugo Strange got a hold of me again. [He admits and swallows thickly.] And that he made me hurt you.