Chapter 8

                                    

                                          
"What can't be eaten at lunch or dinner?" Edward asks Oswald one early morning, Oswald still in the midst of waking up, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of the sleep collected in their corners.
                          
Oswald yawns and doesn't think much of it, no longer phased by Ed's spur of the moment riddles, even so early in the morning. They've become a fixture in his life once again, and Oswald has re-learned how to get his mind working hard for the few minutes it takes to try and work them out. It's usually worth it. Ed smiles like a spoiled child whenever he gets them right. But before he's had his morning coffee is sort of pushing it. Oswald is still debating in the back of his mind what he'd like to eat for the morning when it clicks.

                          
"Oh! Breakfast," he says, a little surprised with himself for getting it that fast.

                          
Edward doesn't look surprised at all, but he does look pleased. "Correct, of course. Do you think you could be ready in fifteen minutes?"

                          
Oswald blinks, stopping just short of the coffee maker. "What?"

                          
"Breakfast. Let's go get some."

                          
"Oh," Oswald huffs, amused with his own early morning shortcomings. "Forgive me, I'm a creature of the night. I don't function well this early."

                          
Edward smirks. "You're doing just fine, Oswald. It turns out Martin and Zsasz were up late last night, some movie marathon. Martin had lots of soda."

                          
Oswald groans and puts his fingers to his temple. "I told Victor that he couldn't give Martin sugar so late. Soda as well. Mother always said it was bad for growing boys. He's not supposed to have it with the exception of special occasions." He glares at the coffee maker. "Zsasz knows that."

                          
"You can reprimand him later, they're both still asleep," Edward replies with a great big grin. "So I figured you and I could pop out for something to eat this morning. When we get back you can throw a bucket of water on them."

                          
"Not Martin, but Zsasz definitely." He pulls a mug down from the cupboard. "...Do we still have that megaphone from my campaign by any chance?"

                          
"I might be able to find it somewhere," Edward muses.

                          
"Blast something classy, like Mozart. He'll hate that."

                          
"Zsasz dislikes classical music?"

                          
Oswald shrugs, and finally pours a little coffee into his lonely mug. It's not a full cup, since they'll be heading out in a few, but enough to give him the initial kickstart he needs to get a move on. He takes a sip, hums around the rim of the mug, and smiles sleepily over at Edward. "Not particularly, but he's more into funk and disco, so I think the graceful slowness of it would simply drive him up the wall. I'm the one that prefers classical. Oh, you know what, I take it back. Play something teeth-grittingly country. We both hate that. Make sure there's a banjo somewhere in there."

                          
"Alright," Edward laughs. He stands from his seat at the island to come stand beside Oswald, carefully lifting the mug out of his fingers and grinning mischievously when Oswald tries to chase it. "Come on, go get dressed. You can't go out to eat in a night robe, no matter how good you look in it."

                          
Oswald stumbles a little over that, mouth parting in surprise and completely forgetting about his stolen coffee in favor of realizing how close they suddenly are. Oswald, who had been previously leaning against the counter, had stood straighter and wandered into Ed's personal space to try and retrieve his cup, putting him less than an inch from Edward's unfairly expansive torso. They are almost nose to nose, and Oswald has to sputter when Edward doesn't even flinch, no inkling to move away.