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[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[superniceone]

The way Gustave rubs at his own shoulder is a genuinely unconscious action. "I think— just let her think what she wants for now," he says, finally. "Neither of us are the kind to let it get in the way of our jobs." She's got enough to worry about, he thinks, without involving their ridiculous situationship.

[recreatable]

She's going to think that Verso has done something wrong when it ends, but it wouldn't hurt to spend a little more time trying to figure out how to avoid that outcome, so he acquiesces, shrugging. Dryly, he starts, "I guess 'secret boyfriend' is preferable to—" 'Huge mistake'. He stops himself. "Well, it's a flattering descriptor. Sounds suave."

[superniceone]

It sounds ridiculous, considering Maelle's father is the only human in this whole canvas who doesn't know they're hooking up — but Gustave won't point that part out. "Suave suits you," he agrees. It looks like the rest of the camp is starting to pack up, and he stalls for a second, cutting his eyes to Verso. "Thanks again. For yesterday, I mean. I, uh— I really needed that."

[recreatable]

Only Gustave would say 'thanks for the sex' multiple times. Verso's mouth twitches in amusement.

"You make it sound as if I was doing you a favor." Like it's community service. He had thought that Gustave needed it, and that had been a significant factor in providing it, but it wasn't a selfless act that he got nothing out of. Certainly not deserving of any sort of gratitude. "I'm flattered you think I'm so altruistic, but I'm not that charitable."

[superniceone]

Verso had only agreed to resume their private endeavors like a day before, and it had been... strangely intense. Part of Gustave also just wants to acknowledge it as a pleasant little shared memory, and has no idea how to do that, so. Thanking it is.

"Cut me some slack," he says, chuckling down at his own hands. "The apology was just a vehicle for me to say I really enjoyed myself. And I'm looking forward to our next, ah, secret date." It's impossible to know when time will allow, but his point stands.

[recreatable]

The compliment is so incredibly dorky that Verso can feel his shriveled heart grow three sizes in real-time. Very fucking dangerous. He can't help but smile fully then, laughing and shaking his head. "I'll be sure to light candles next time."

For days after, the promise of another rendezvous does feature prominently in his thoughts. It wouldn't be right to say he's looking forward to it; that's too unequivocally positive of a description. It would, however, be right to say he ponders it to the point of perhaps obsession — he thinks of the prospect with mixed feelings, but he thinks of it often.

Time doesn't allow, though, until after they've felled another one of his family members. It's hypocritical, but he feels perhaps the lowest he's ever felt with Alicia gone forever without so much as as word exchanged between them. A not-insignificant part of him wishes that he were with her out in the ether. Once they've made camp and Verso has argued with Maelle and ruminated in depressing silence for most of the night, he seeks out Gustave and pulls him into the trees under the guise of a private conversation.

"I would very much like for you to take your clothes off." Sue him. He can't always be charming.

[superniceone]

Gustave never allows himself to become a priority. Whatever is going on between him and Verso is relegated to the quiet hours, downtime between working toward Expedition 33's goals. He does occasionally flirt a little at camp in an awkward, playful way, whenever the group spirits are especially high, but it's never more than a brief touch or nudge.

Then they approach The Reacher, and things go to absolute shit. Gustave checks on Maelle when she and Verso finish their private conversation, and as much as he wants to check in on Verso— he gets it. He prefers to process his grief alone, too.

He honestly isn't sure what direction the interaction is going to take when Verso leads him out to the trees, but he's not expecting a request to strip.

"Uh," Gustave says. He half shrugs his jacket off as if to indicate that he's not dismissing the request, but his face is creased with concern. "Are you sure that's what you want right now?"

[recreatable]

He wants his sister to not have just evaporated into nonexistence, but apparently, he can't always get what he wants. This is probably only going to make him feel worse in the long run, but Aline didn't include healthy coping skills when she brought him into existence. Probably because she has no concept of them, either.

Verso tugs the rest of Gustave's stupid jacket off. So much fabric. If only Gustave were wearing a slutty little V-neck, it would already be off!

"I thought you liked making huge mistakes." Not that he internalized Gustave's offhanded comment and made it a part of his self-image, or anything.

[superniceone]

Merde, Gustave wishes he knew what the right thing to say here was. He can't actually fathom the pain of losing a sister; he'd been in shock after the beach, in a bit of a suicidal fugue state the entire time he'd thought Maelle dead. He'd never had time to actually swallow that particular flavor of grief.

"Verso," he says, voice quiet but firm; and he reaches up to catch the back of Verso's neck, crowding him slightly as he does. "Whatever you need— if I can help you feel better, I'll do it. If that's fucking, then fine, just— as long as it doesn't hurt you more." I don't want to be something you regret is what he almost says, and bites his tongue. It's really not about him right now.

[recreatable]

It's not really any of Gustave's business what hurts him, so he chooses not to acknowledge that comment. Besides, at this point, he struggles to see how things could get much worse. He reaches down to work on Gustave's belt buckle, saying, "He calls it 'fucking' now. And here I thought it was just community service."

[superniceone]

Gustave flusters slightly, more at the call-out than the actual phrasing. They're well past the point of polite euphemism, he thinks, and he gently knocks Verso's hand away so he can deftly undo his own. "You get yours," he says, all business now; his mechanical arm is great for most things, but does add just a little bit of conplexity when it comes to pulling loose someone else's belt.

He is not even slightly aroused by what has so far just been standing in the woods and watching Verso suffer, but he'll figure it out.

[recreatable]

This is not even a little bit sexy, and pales in comparison to the near-sacrilege they committed by the Sacred River. Verso undoes his belt anyway. What else is he going to do, go off by himself and cry? He'll probably do that later.

Once he's dealt with his own belt, he reaches out to unbutton Gustave's pants like this isn't the weirdest, saddest sex in the world. He at least has the decency to feel a little bad about it, mumbling, "Sorry I forgot the candles."

[superniceone]

Gustave exhales a sound that's almost a laugh, surprised by the apology. "Hey, come here, slow down a little," he says, gentling his voice. He's trying to coax Verso's face up, wants to pull him into a kiss if it's possible at all, but he'll settle for just trying to skim Verso's jacket off in turn if he's denied.

He'll spin it as just needing a little time to get the metaphorical engine going, will fully accept the mantle of guy who kisses too much if he has to.

[recreatable]

Gustave is sweet. He's not feeling particularly deserving of sweet right now, but Verso has taken a lot of things he's not deserving of, so he lets Gustave kiss him anyway. He likes it when Gustave kisses him first, too, but saying that would mean exposing that he's been replaying their last encounter somewhat incessantly, so he keeps it to himself. His fingers still on Gustave's waistband, and he laughs humorlessly against Gustave's mouth before pulling back.

"It would probably be too much to ask for this not to be a turn-off, wouldn't it?"

[superniceone]

Gustave feels way more like he's floundering than being sweet. He can say with all honesty that this is the first and only time in his life that someone has sought him out for an angsty trauma hookup. More than anything, he's just worried about Verso, but he has no idea how well saying that out loud would go over.

"Mostly I'm thinking that the grass is a little damp," he says, leaning in to sort of brush a kiss against Verso's shoulder, before he kicks his own jacket out a bit flatter. "Sit down. My knees are too old to do all this standing up." He's— okay, well, he's rambling a little bit; he doesn't want to be sent back to the camp alone while Verso is transparently in pain.

[recreatable]

Damn, Gustave really hasn't lived. A good 50% of Verso's hookups have been the angsty, trauma-fueled kind, at least on one side. Lots of Expeditioners afraid to die.

He settles down on the jacket that Gustave very romantically kicked around, smoothing it out a little in an attempt to make this situation not the least appealing one Gustave has ever been in. The back of his neck is a little hot with embarrassment now that the uncomfortableness of the situation is sinking in; maybe he should have gone off to cry alone, actually, instead of trying to engage Gustave in grief-sex.

"Yeah, you really are an old fart," he says, an attempt to lighten the mood.

fuck don't look at me

[superniceone]

"That's what I hear," Gustave agrees softly, and he really does stare down at Verso for is what an inappropriately long moment while he tries to decide what his own next move is going to be. In a strictly practical sense, the ground really is a little too damp to just comfortably park on. Under a less practical lens, he's aware awkward advances are always much easier to overlook in the heat of the moment... and this moment is still pretty much room temperature.

He decides to just do it. If Verso laughs in his face, well— that's better than seeming fully devastated. Gustave doesn't quite park in his lap; he straddles Verso's thighs with bent knees, keeping all of his weight off him. "Uh. We can stand back up if this is— insane."

now all of china knows that was gonna be your first sentence

[recreatable]

Against all odds, Verso does laugh. It's not at the verifiable unsexiness of it all, not malicious. It's just so laughable that Gustave would have any uncertainty about this when not long ago, Verso crawled on top of him, pinned him down, and bit him like a feral animal.

"Insane," he repeats, incredulous. Although the moment is, yes, far from heated, he'd be lying if he said his body temperature didn't raise a degree from having Gustave in this position. He presses a hand against the small of Gustave's back, encouraging him to rest his weight on his lap. "Deranged, I think. Can't believe they haven't locked you up."

[superniceone]

Gustave had neither crawled on nor pinned nor bitten at Verso, which were all verifiably sexy things to do to a partner as saw it. What he had done was make Verso sit on his jacket and then awkwardly hover over his legs while he was grieving the death of his younger sister. The vibes were entirely different.

"Shut up," he exhales, clear as ever that he doesn't mean it as he gingerly eases himself down into an actual seat on him. (He's not a man who has ever been particularly hung up on masculinity, but it's something to unpack later— the way he didn't bat an eye at Verso on his lap, but how self-conscious he felt about the inverse.)

There's another moment of hesitation, before he props his forearm on Verso's shoulder, gently sliding his fingers through the root of his hair at the base of his skull. "I imagine centenarians must have fragile bones," he says, mock dead serious. "Had to be sure I wasn't going to crush anything delicate."

[recreatable]

Verso feels the urge to lean into Gustave's touch and, instead of anything sexual, have him comfortingly pet his hair all night. That's insane.

The teasing does lift his spirits a bit. There's a dampened quality to the energy he gives back, tired, but it's there all the same as he lets his hands rest on Gustave's thighs. They're skinnier than he'd expect under those baggy trousers, so much so that Verso has to wonder if Gustave didn't come on this Expedition a little physically unprepared, but certainly not unappealing.

"You are very robust," he says, droll. "It's a wonder I didn't shatter into a million pieces."

[superniceone]

It's something Sophie used to do for him when he was ill or tired or a victim of his own anxiety. She always claimed that it was just because she liked to play with his mop of soft, fluffy hair, but they both quietly knew it was always more to soothe him than anything else.

"Robust," he muses, tipping in to rest his forehead lightly against Verso's, blunt nails gentle now against his scalp. "First you compare me to Monoco, and now to a solid red wine. Not sure how I should be taking all this."

[recreatable]

This, finally, is an area where Gustave has significantly more experience. It's been decades since he felt tender human touch, the closest thing to it—embarrassingly—huddling with Monoco in the cold. It's horrific how readily he responds to it now, forehead leaning into Gustave's. He wants to stop himself, but he can't override the base human desire for closeness.

"Handsome," he says quietly, trying not to commit the feel of Gustave's breath on his face to memory. "I also said handsome."

[superniceone]

"Mm. Yes, I did like that one." Gustave keeps his own voice low, like speaking too loudly might shatter a part of the moment they're sharing now. He lapses into silence after that, privately hoping that Verso will just allow this for a little while.

It's a different sort of intimacy than the sort they've shared already, but no less intimate all the same; it's deeply comforting, and he feels a little guilty for that, like he's taking advantage of Verso's vulnerability. Regardless, he won't stop what he's doing until there's some sort of indication that Verso wants him to.

[recreatable]

It doesn't make it any more respectable, but Verso still feels pathetic the whole time. He closes his eyes and lets Gustave soothe him for several long seconds, the gentle scrape of his fingernails pacifying in some difficult to describe way. He has a sense-memory of being young and emotional and being consoled by people who loved him; maybe it isn't really his memory as much as it is one that he stole, but he leans into the nostalgia of it all the same.

"Putain de merde," he exhales in chagrin after an extended moment, hanging his head against Gustave's shoulder. "Don't tell the others I made such a fool of myself."

[superniceone]

There's brief hesitation in Gustave's touch, before his hand settles firmly on Verso's neck again, his thumb carefully sweeping bare skin in a way that's meant to be consoling.

"How so?" He asks, nudging a kiss against Verso's temple through his hair. It's soft, casual, like he's done it a million times before, and not like his heart is hammering too hard in his chest. "You're foolish because you... have emotions? Because you asked me to undress? That's hurtful, Verso."