"Well, you just let me know if and when that changes," Oliver replied with absolutely shameless, amused interest. Later. They could do that later.
He grunted and stretched, leaning back to swipe at the bag of plain chips, managing to secure the corner between his thumb and forefinger and drag the whole bag across the bedspread in a precarious grip. He moved his arms bag around Edwin, bag in hand, opening it blindly and wiggling it tantalizingly in front of his boyfriend. Well, he assumed it was tantalizing. It was at least noisy. "I think I want eggs. I don't want to go down and make eggs yet, but scrambled fuckin' eggs sound amazin' right now. And hash browns. I could eat the absolute pants outta some hashbrowns. Or corned beef hash." He moaned, leaning his chin on Edwin's shoulder again and sighing dreamily. "I ain't had that in years."