superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Gustave considers for a moment, then makes a sound of disagreement. "You abandoned the others to brood with me all night," he says, turning to face him. "Pretty poor hosting the rest of the team."

Verso laughs. First of all, he's fairly sure no one at that little party missed him. Second of all—

"Brooding isn't exactly what I would call it, but..." A tilt of the head. "What can I say? I'm a tortured soul. Perhaps I thought I'd found a kindred spirit."

"Sorry to have disappointed," Gustave says, trying to gently reel him in. "You're too interesting for someone like me to keep up with."

"Yeah," he quips as he allows himself to be brought in by Gustave's gravitational pull. "Inventor, expeditioner, one of the first to take on an Axon and live to tell the tale—"

A shake of his head. "You're so boring."

"That's what I've been saying," Gustave says, as if Verso had been agreeing with him the entire time. He grins very subtly at him, and it might be easier to see in the crinkle of his eyes in close proximity. "I'm never going to break my habit of self deprecation if you reward it with compliments like that, you know."

"So you'd rather I lie for the greater good," Verso says, blatantly ignoring the irony of that sentence. "All right, you are boring. Terrible to look at. Bad kisser. Is it working?"

"Hmm. Can't really say that's doing much for me, actually." Gustave is planning on kissing him, yes, but he's aware that he'll have to relinquish this private moment as soon as he does - so he's not rushing it. "I'd offer to shave, but it's really not a good look on me."

He sort of does want to see a fresh-faced Gustave, but mostly because it would be prime real estate for bullying. The beard takes a boyish face and makes it look mature; time won't be doing that, so it seems he found another way.

"I'd say I prefer you furry, but I'm afraid you'll think I'm talking to you like Monoco again."

"Might not be such a bad thing. You do seem awfully fond of him." Gustave isn't touching him the way he wants to, the way that feels almost reflexive now that he's very nearly drawn Verso in nose-to-nose with him. "And he did have a point: bit of fur would help with that breeze coming in off the water."

The whole point of coming over here in the first place was supposed to be so he could get kissed and then feel conflicted about it, but Gustave is denying him even that. It's very rude. Better not seem desperate, though, so he tries very hard not to look like he wants to experience Gustave's furry face firsthand.

"Make you an excellent cuddler, too, for those cold winter nights," he points out, before wondering if maybe he shouldn't say anything that might bring to mind the mental image of Verso running from a post-coital cuddle. It wasn't exactly his proudest moment.

It's a little more palatable now that he knows the reason behind it. "I'm already an extremely adequate cuddler, thank you very much," he murmurs, matter of fact, wry amusement evident.

But Gustave will, finally, give in and kiss him, gently gripping the front of Verso's jacket like he's afraid he might vanish the second it ends.

It feels different to be kissing for the sake of it, rather than as a prelude to getting off. If it's been a while since he had sex, it's been a very, very long while since he experienced affection or closeness that wasn't tied to sex, save for the familial sort that came from his decidedly nonhuman companions. He isn't under the delusion that Gustave has any deep feeling for him, or even that there would even be a future for this if there were a world where Gustave survived after the Paintress, but— it feels good to be liked, to be seen even in some small way.

He keeps it entirely chaste — all right, mostly chaste, because of course he's going to slip Gustave a little tongue. His fingers wrap around Gustave's wrists, and then he pulls away, glancing down at the hands gripping his jacket.

"I know that I don't have the best track record, but I'm not going to run off like an unleashed dog." Probably.

It's not often that Gustave allows himself the luxury of just idling. There are too many things to do; time is too precious to be frivolous with it. There's a little bit of color to his face when he answers, more to do with sheepishness than as a result of the kiss.

"You've got an alright face," he says lightly. "Maybe I wanted to bask for a second."

Or, maybe if he leans into being silly and irreverent, too, Verso won't startle and bolt. He's allowed to have a minute, he thinks.

He drops the hand curled around Gustave's metal wrist, although he keeps the one on the flesh wrist, a gentle, easily breakable hold, thumb on Gustave's pulse point. "Alright," he laughs, clearly not actually offended. Gustave can't ever un-call him obnoxiously good-looking.

He ducks his head, amused smile still on his lips. "There goes my hope of you drawing me like one of your Nevrons."

Gustave isn't interested in pushing this too far into the direction of something other than the single kiss that had been agreed to. Similarly, he doesn't want Verso to end up chafing uncomfortably beneath any overtly affectionate acts Gustave might try.

He does his best to split the difference. Gustave snorts at Verso's statement, then leans in to try to coax him into another kiss (and maybe just a few minutes of making out, if he's allowed to get that far.)

He'd talked himself into one being harmless. More than one is probably letting himself indulge more than is strictly smart — but emotional- Verso is currently making the decisions rather than rational-Verso, so he leans in again until the feeling of dread grows greater than the feeling of enjoyment.

"I hope you'll take it as a compliment when I say that you're very distracting," he says when he pulls away again, trying to sound as if Gustave is just so hot and sexy that he can't control himself, and not that being around him makes Verso feel like he might be the worst person ever. "And I need to keep my head screwed on straight."

There's surely something wrong with him that he cares about maintaining Gustave's feelings when there's a 100% chance he'll have no feelings left to have soon, but he adds, "For the next few days. After that, I'm all for celebrating enthusiastically."

"No, I know, sorry," Gustave says quietly, expression both guilty and pleased by the diversion. "It's just-"

He squeezes his jacket, then smooths the wrinkled bit down to step back, to give Verso a little space. It's clear he's trying to articulate something, head slightly tilted again, before he settles on: "I just don't believe you."

It's not confrontational or judgmental; if anything, Gustave seems surprised by his own conclusion. But to hear Verso talk so casually about the future, when even Gustave - one of the most optimistic members of the original team - had lost hope entirely more than once already-

It felt- placating. "But that was nice," he adds hastily. "Jealousy adequately sated, I suppose."

Ouch. He's right not to believe Verso—about anything, ever—but it still smarts a little to hear it. He removes his hand from Gustave's wrist, sticking it in his pocket for lack of anything better to do with it.

"It's not—" Like that, he wants to explain, but blurting out the truth will only make everything worse. Better for Gustave to think Verso is just an ass who's happy to play with his feelings. He lets himself trail off, before saying, sheepishly, "So which limb should I cut off to have an excuse to talk to you tomorrow?"

It's Verso he pities in this situation more than himself. It's not like they were living some star-struck love story - but still. He can't imagine how hard it must be, only ever meeting people who were, for lack of better description, doomed.

"I think you're the only person on Earth who's ever thought they need an excuse to talk to me," he says, expression wrinkled in amusement. "You're the popular one."

Verso is incapable of not trying to charm his way out of every unpleasant feeling, so he makes a point of looking thoughtful for a moment before: "Just a pinky toe, then?"

"Verso," Gustave says, performatively exasperated and using it as an excuse to crowd him just slightly, "why would you-"

He's cut off by a gasp, and is halfway to summoning his sword when he realizes it's just Maelle.

"Maelle-" he starts, and is cut off immediately.

"I knew something was going on."

Oh. There's a slight shift of his jaw. He doesn't particularly mind who knows about this—whatever 'this' is—but he'd have preferred not to have his sister find out that he's been kissing her brother. (Ugh. He was right not to tell her the truth. Imagine having to navigate that odd dynamic.) It's all fraught enough without involving Maelle.

"...Is that Esquie I hear calling for me?" he asks. It's dead silent.

Gustave gives him the most deadpan possible look. "Yes," he says, "it certainly is." Coward. It's not like Gustave is so embarrassed he could die or anything.

"I don't hear anything," Maelle says with that patented little sister Look™. It makes his heart clench and yearn to be close to her the way that Gustave gets to be, family and not just some strange man who came out of the woods to join her Expedition.

"When he gets stuck on his back, he can't get back up again," Verso says, excessively serious. "I should go help turn him over."

He's not proud of the way he absconds from Gustave for a third time, but clearly, it's their thing. Maelle watches him turn tail for only a moment before she turns back to Gustave, eyebrow raised, annoying little sister mode fully engaged.

"Is it offensive to say I didn't think you had it in you? Because I didn't think you had it in you."

Gustave watches Verso go as well, but it's mostly with jealousy; he wishes he could evaporate from this situation, too.

"No, it's fine," he says finally, exasperated. "I didn't think I did, either. Are you going to lecture me?'

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