superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Someone was bound to put two and two together eventually, realize that Maelle was on Verso's radar before Renoir ever threatened her. Far before that, really. It doesn't reflect too well on him that he only stepped in when he did, but most of what he's done since the Expedition landed on the Continent doesn't.

"Sounds dashing."

"Mmm," Gustave hums, but he doesn't sound particularly pressed about it. He'd been interested in the confirmation, which he'd mostly just received. "He even knew her name. Must have been a real guardian angel, that one. Would love to thank him someday."

Gustave, as always, is far too nice and gives him far too much credit. He still can't quite believe Gustave is talking to him at all. Can't believe any of them are. He'd been certain the only company he'd have would be Maelle, Monoco, and Esquie. Not a bad crew, all things considered, but lonely.

"I don't know about that. If you'll recall, he didn't even stick around," Verso points out.

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Gustave says softly. "Besides— I'm sure he would have shown back up if she were ever in any serious danger again."

He pauses for a moment before he says, droll: "I'm going to put sand in your trousers if you don't accept the gratitude."

Merde, that took a turn. Verso laughs, genuine, and knocks their shoulders together. "And then I'd have to take them off. That truly would be terrible."

Gustave ducks his head at that, chuckling softly. It's nice to be able to let the mask drop slightly, to not have to force himself to pretend that he's not stressed about— god, everything, really.

It's getting chillier as the last remaining light on the horizon starts to fade; he has the feeling they're not going to have much privacy for long. "I'm going to spend the next full day thinking of an excuse to go off with you alone, I think," he confesses with a helpless laugh. "Please let me know if you change your mind, just so I'm not wasting my time."

This isn't a particularly healthy dynamic to get himself into. 'Doomed from the beginning' is no foundation to build a relationship on, even if Gustave says he's all right with it being very temporary and very hopeless. On some level, he knows that it's only going to hurt his feelings if he acts like a placeholder until Gustave can return to his real life, and that it would be safer for him, emotionally, to just cut it off now.

But he's a people pleaser. "Good," he says, "I've been the only one thinking up excuses this whole time."

"'This whole time'?" Gustave echoes, skeptical, followed by a griping protest. "We've spent perhaps forty minutes together— well— privately. Fifty, if I'm being generous."

You always!! Ran away!! When he tried to cuddle.

"Let's call it sixty." He's not that quick a lay!! Although, if he's being honest, it probably was closer to forty. Verso was always very down to business. Not a lot of exploration going on, when they were exploring each other's bodies. "But if you have feedback, I'm listening and learning."

I really like this man, Gustave thinks, followed immediately by, I need my head examined by a doctor. The Expedition was hardly a softly lit and romantic atmosphere. Their actual relationship had been defined by lies and half-truths. Betrayals, really.

But Gustave doesn't think Verso can fake the earnest way he seems to care about them all. He knows for a fact that he isn't faking the way he cares about Maelle. Maybe that's enough.

"No criticism. Just pointing out fact," he says, nudging Verso's arm with his own in what is just a blatant excuse to touch him.

Verso nudges Gustave's arm back. "I should leave you to think up your excuses," he says, hoping it doesn't sound like he's excusing himself. It's just that this is probably the first time they've had a conversation that didn't end awkwardly, and he'd like to hold onto that. "You should know that I have exacting expectations."

"Alright. Get some rest— hoping we can leave a bit early tomorrow after the late start we had today." Sure, Gustave: the late start to playing volleyball with the gestrals all day.

But his expression is fond when he looks at Verso, eyes lingering for just a moment longer than they need to. "I'll see you in the morning."

Okay, but consider: it was super important to win those swimsuits.

"Yeah," he says, pausing for a moment before he places a hand on Gustave's shoulder, thumb stroking against the fabric of Gustave's uniform for a brief moment before he drops his hand and pushes himself up, like he isn't going to be ruminating on this all night. "See you in the morning."

Oh. That little bit of unprompted physical affection is— something. Nice. Gustave had filled his life with the company of his sisters and his apprentices over the last four years, but he'd never really given himself the time to admit to himself that, yeah. He was a little lonely in certain ways, too.

Sciel isn't like Lune or Verso, doesn't particularly struggle to sleep, but she's up early the next morning if only to try to catch a moment with Verso. "You looked cozy last night," she says, voice low not to wake the others as she pulls her hair into a plait over her shoulder. "The tension was driving me a little mad, honestly."

She doesn't know if she's ever seen two people work so hard to make sure they didn't spend a second alone together.

Please. There was no tension. He was exceedingly normal about it!! Sure, he's looking at Gustave now, but only because he's drooling a little bit in his sleep.

Casually: "We bonded over our shared disappointment that you'll be off the market."

"You mean to tell me I drove the two most handsome men alive right into each other's arms? That sounds like an achievement." She ties her hair off, then reaches up to tousle Verso's.

"We are currently the only men alive"—save for Renoir, but that's a downer—"but I'll take that compliment with the sincerity I'm sure it was meant."

As for the rest, he reaches up to fix his hair before responding, vain. He considers saying something vague and offhanded, but he's trying this whole honesty thing out, so— "My arms are empty. It's just passing time."

That was, indeed, the joke, and she grins softly at his acknowledgement of it. Anyway. "I don't see why one has to preclude the other."

She glances at Gustave sleeping, and— wow, he really is drooling, huh.

"I bet he's sweet. Always thought he must be." Is she trying to gossip about the sex life of one of her closest friends? Yes, absolutely.

"Oh, he's actually incredibly disrespectful," Verso drones, deadpan. Obviously a joke; neither of them are creative enough to imagine a world in which Gustave isn't sweet.

He raises an eyebrow at always thought he must be, though, and feels somewhat vindicated in his enduring belief that every adult human in this camp would fraternize with Gustave given the chance. "If you're angling for an invitation, it's not me you'll have to convince."

"Off the market, remember?" Sciel never thought she was being particularly subtle; Gustave was just either extremely oblivious, or pretending to be so in order to avoid the awkward situation of having to turn her down explicitly. "I'm just glad to see he hasn't actually let himself turn to stone."

But this is getting awfully close to serious conversation, so Sciel will let the topic lapse. "We're off toward the Sacred River today, aren't we? I should go wake Lune."

Off the market soon. It doesn't mean she can't have a friendly threeway! But he imagines the thought of that might turn Gustave bright tomato red again, so he leaves it.

"You should," he agrees, glancing over at Lune's peaceful sleeping form. "Better that you're the subject of her morning wrath." Look, half-asleep Lune is kind of mean, and he's not brave enough to take her just-woke-up mood.

He is brave enough to stand over Gustave and nudge him with the side of his foot, though. "And here I thought you were going to get an early start."

Gustave groans quietly when he wakes, swatting at Verso's foot like he might a mosquito in the middle of the night. "I had the second watch," he grumbles a little hoarsely, blaming the fractured sleep for his sluggish inertia. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and makes a face, before actually squinting up at Verso. "How'd you sleep?"

Is he stalling so he can stay horizontal just another minute? Maybe.

Verso crouches beside him and doesn't mention that Gustave still has a little bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. It's charming. Dorky.

"Knowing you were watching over the camp? Like a baby." He has insomnia, actually, and should probably take more watch so that the others can sleep, but whatever.

"Merde," Gustave mutters, "you're such an ass. There's got to be something wrong with me." And why does Verso's hair look so good this early in the morning, too? It's patently unfair; the extra humidity from sleeping so near the sea has turned his into a fluffy bird's nest.

He sits up, everything about his expression reluctant.

Verso feels the ridiculous urge to fix Gustave's stray strands of hair for him, which he does not do. Surely Maelle will notice it and bully him into fixing it himself.

"You're just now realizing?" he says, mouth turning up despite himself. There's been something wrong with Gustave this whole time, honestly.

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