superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Gustave will firmly stand by the fact that he'd meant physical affection like this, not necessarily sex. He sighs, turning his face to press another idle kiss into Verso's hair. "Don't praise me too much," he says like he's telling a secret, just sheepishly scrambling to lighten the mood. "One or two moments I'll probably be revisiting in my head when I'm alone later."

Verso cannot think of a single moment that Gustave might want to replay. A wet kitten is sexier than Verso is right now. This whole thing has been a mess from start to finish, and it couldn't possibly get worse—

Maelle calls his name in the distance; understandably, since she probably thinks he's gone off to try to test the limits of his immortality. He doesn't mean to shove Gustave off, it's just that Gustave happens to be on his lap and his belt is undone and he really doesn't want to sear that image into poor Maelle's brain. Apparently, she has the same idea, because she calls, "Please don't be doing anything weird!"

Rudely jostled back into reality, he curses under his breath as he scrambles to do his belt up. "We should get back."

Okay, so there weren't many, but there was a moment or two that — if thought about in complete isolation from the events and emotions on either side of them — he would argue were fine.

Not that he has a chance to justify himself; instead, he's just making an undignified noise and shooting Verso an incredulous look when he lands in the wet grass. "You go," Gustave says finally, expression relaxing as he waves Verso on. "I'll catch up when the pins and needles stop in my leg." It's a transparent lie — Maelle is looking for Verso, and he doesn't want to stymie their conversation by being there.

Verso does up his belt and stands. He should probably say something, acknowledge in some way this strange sort of intimacy he feels as if he forced onto Gustave with his emotions, but he hasn't the first clue of what to say. He reaches down to swipe up Gustave's slightly damp jacket, holding it out for him to take.

"Thanks," is all he can think of to say. Then, he turns his head and calls, "I'm here, Maelle," taking off in the direction of her voice to lead her back to camp.

Fuck, Gustave thinks as he watches Verso go. Fuck, he's in trouble, and he cannot for the life of himself figure out why he thought willingly signing himself up for heartbreak again was the right play to make.

It's good for the both of them that Maelle is seeking him out. Over the next few days Gustave is careful to keep an eye out to make sure Verso isn't overtly spiraling, but Gustave also never seems to leave any openings to be approached alone. It's not a fully intentional thing; he's spooked himself a bit with the intensity of feelings that were never meant to exist.

He cracks eventually a few nights in, drops to a seat by Verso like he hasn't been acting uncomfortable and evasive since their last encounter. "Hey. How are you doing?"

Unintentional or not, being avoided for days after daring to show vulnerability makes Verso want to curl up and die. He physically can't, though, so— here he still is, warming his hands by the campfire when Gustave settles beside him. It's not a particularly welcome visit at this point, but he tries not to show it.

"I haven't made any more foolish advances," he says lightly, pleasantly, although he can't quite meet Gustave's eyes. If he just gets it out in the open, puts all the blame for any uncomfortableness on himself, then maybe he can still salvage the situation. "I'd like to consider that a win."

The entirety of their not-relationship is predicated on the idea that there are no feelings attached. Verso hadn't even agreed to let him approach again until that had been firmly established; he doesn't know what to do with the fact that he's violated that agreement. Certainly the way he'd been cradling Verso's head to him had to have made that obvious.

"I didn't think you were being foolish," Gustave says, and it probably says something for how distracted he is — and how much he regards his prosthesis as a genuine part of himself — that he holds it up in front of the fire. "Sorry. I just— got into my own head a bit, and you had more important things to worry about."

Verso watches as Gustave heats the metal of his prosthetic arm for a beat, then reaches out to lower it for Gustave. He doesn't have any idea how it works, but he can wager a guess that it's probably not supposed to be exposed to fire.

"Yeah," he agrees. More important things to worry about. Gustave says that quite a lot, like he's trying to convince himself, too. "I'm the one who should apologize. I shouldn't have put you into that position."

Verso gets a violent flashback of clinging to Gustave like a child. Horrible. "Sorry."

Gustave's arm is somehow, inexplicably, able to transmit lightning; a little radiant heat from a bonfire won't do it any damage, but he half-smiles and lowers it anyway when he realizes what it is he's done.

He remembers Verso clinging to him, too, and it makes his heart ache with the desire to protect him; he thinks Verso has probably done a lot more protecting than being looked after himself in his decades on this continent. It's probably an idiotic thing to think about a grown, competent man, but the memory of Verso's head on his shoulder weighs heavy on his mind.

Gustave hesitates, eyes back on the fire, then tries: "You haven't done anything wrong. I'm already dreading having to say goodbye to you. I don't... I've been a little afraid of making it weird." Because everything is so normal right now.

Verso speaks the narration into existence: "Makes sense. Everything else is so normal."

It's a relief in some ways; Verso had expected Gustave to be put off by his display of authentic emotion. In other ways, it's very much not a relief. He remembers Gustave scolding him for thinking that he needed to be protected from himself, and he swallows down the burgeoning urge to say I told you so. It wouldn't help, and besides, Verso is the one that should have kept things 'cordial'.

It is and always has been his job to make things better, so he rests a comforting hand on Gustave's shoulder. "Saying goodbye... it'll be easier than you think." For one of them, anyway. He'll forget all about you, Sciel had said, but Verso has a long memory.

Gustave makes an affronted little noise and, on impulse, reaches up to cover the hand on his shoulder. His eyes remain stubbornly ahead. "I was thinking I might stay on the Continent a while, actually. There's a lot of lost history here. And the Nevron population should probably be kept under control."

And it has nothing to do you, Verso, or how you're the only person who seems to understand why the change in his world has sent him crashing out.

Verso is still trying to be comforting, so he doesn't say you will fucking not, even if it's what he thinks. He does raise a skeptical brow, though, and say, "You're going to singlehandedly maintain the size of the Nevron population?"

Gustave gives him a wry sidelong smile. "I'm saying that it couldn't hurt. I'm not trying to solve the whole puzzle, Verso. Happy to just contribute a piece somewhere."

Gustave's hand tightens on his.

"Anyway, my point — I hope you'll forgive me. If I bruised your feelings."

A little honesty is perhaps owed here, but Verso doesn't fancy the idea of admitting his feelings were bruised. He splits the difference with a shrug and an irreverent, "Yeah. I almost turned Monoco loose on you."

Monoco really would have taken Gustave to task if Verso had asked, and only partially because he's always raring for unnecessary violence. Of course, Verso never would, even if he might have liked to see Monoco turn into a Stalact and send Gustave flying during the several long days he'd spent distancing himself from Verso.

He squeezes Gustave's shoulder. "I guess that's postponed for now."

"Mm," Gustave hums, shifting to bump his leg into Verso's. What he wants to say is why don't you give living in Lumière a shot at least, or I'm not crazy, isn't this a mutual desire or maybe even just I'm still worried about you. Instead, he settles for: "And I forgive you for dumping me on the ground and running away. I was enjoying that seat."

Flustered and trying not to seem it, Verso argues, "It wasn't— running." He removes his hand from Gustave's shoulder with some reluctance, turning his gaze back to the fire. "—A brisk walk, maybe."

He has no defense for dumping Gustave on the ground. He'd panicked like a surprised deer.

Now would be the time to offer a redo, a chance for Gustave to utilize that seat in a more alluring way. He wants to, and he even opens his mouth to do just that, but not before he stops himself. "That... probably shouldn't happen again." He sounds like he's scolding himself more than Gustave. "If it's making things difficult for you."

No mention of it making things difficult for him. After all, it's been difficult for him this whole time.

Gustave considers that for a moment, seems to weigh his own response, before he blows a brief, dismissing raspberry. "No, sorry. Not letting you dump me a second time on this Expedition, actually."

His hand brushes a stone on the ground next to him. He picks it up, turns it around in his fingers as if inspecting it, and then casually chucks it at the treeline. You don't avoid peaches because you'll eventually be left with a pit. He'll keep Verso for as long as he's allowed, he thinks; it would be greedy to ask for anything more.

Verso looks at Gustave, opens his mouth, closes it, tilts his head.

"Did you just deny my self-sacrificing?" Is that allowed???

"Yep." Gustave glances over, his expression fond but challenging. "It's too inconvenient for me. Is that a problem?"

Verso stares, contending—for a long moment—with the fact that he actually finds this cute instead of deranged. The rational part of him thinks that he should put his foot down, end this trainwreck now before he does more damage than he's already done. The emotional part of him feels privately pleased at being wanted, and he turns his attention back to the fire to hide the twitch of his lips.

"I guess not."

Gustave relaxes a little at that reaction, and he leans in to press an idle kiss against Verso's clothed shoulder. "Good choice," he says, but doesn't press things further verbally.

He will definitely try to hold his hand for at least a few minutes while they both watch the fire, but he won't push things any further than that for the night.

There's very little more embarrassing than the speed at which his heart beats over a held hand. Thank god Gustave can't hear it, although it feels so deafeningly loud that it's almost shocking that he can't. He says nothing, looking into the fire in that companionable silence Gustave had been seeking ages ago, but his mind works overtime. Everything feels a million times more fraught and confusing, and he doesn't know how to ask about it without making things worse.

Finally, he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling. "You're not actually going to try to stay on the Continent, are you?" This, at least, is a question he feels equipped to ask. "It would break Maelle's heart."

Part of Gustave's unfortunately timed distance had come about because of an almost desperate need to sit with his own thoughts and examine them. He's never handled helplessness well, never had an easy time with the unknown, and the last few weeks have sent him spiraling into both for myriad reasons.

But Verso had broken down, had been held and held him back, and that had meant more to him than the sex. It was a problem, right? Why was it a problem? Verso had been clear about his boundaries early, and Gustave couldn't change them — so what could he do?

His fingers flex, move to interlace with Verso's. The answer doesn't come right away, but it's obvious he's taking great pains to consider his own words. "I missed— four long years with someone I loved because I was too afraid of the future to chase after her," he says. "There were other reasons, at first. But that's what it came to ultimately."

Gustave isn't in love with Verso. There's not been any time for that, no space. But feeling how desperate he'd been to do anything for the pain radiating off him the other night— he can't deny that he could be, someday.

He realizes that he hasn't actually answered the question, and he clears his throat a little awkwardly. "So I might stay on the Continent, yeah, if that's where you are," Gustave says with a confidence he clearly doesn't feel. "At least until you're sick of me following you around like a lost gestral kid."

Oh, wow, Verso is ruining Gustave's life without even trying. Mère de dieu.

He rubs at his face with his free hand, frustrated. It's very sweet, of course, and he likes it, but it's also crazy. Everything Gustave has done is for Lumière, and quite frankly, he rarely shuts up about it. Verso knows what's best for him more than Gustave does, and clearly, he's the only one here who's going to take responsibility for it.

He exhales, then squeezes Gustave's hand comfortingly, schooling his tone to the kind he uses when trying to reassure Maelle. There's definitely something questionable about using his Maelle tactics on Gustave, but at this point, it's probably the least questionable thing about this relationship.

"It's all right," he says, softly, "if you're... nervous about seeing her again." But don't throw it all away for the worst person alive!!!

It is with a strange little lurch that Gustave realizes it's not Sophie he's nervous about seeing — it's all of Lumière. He's spent his life thinking of it as the last bastion of safety and humanity after the Fracture, but still just a sliver of human life, of human history. It's hard to swallow how different the truth really is, to accept that all of human history as far as this world goes is pretty much the same age as Verso.

They are people. But also— they're just art. How is he meant to reconcile this? He will always love Sophie—she's a part of his makeup, just like Maelle and Emma—but trying to capture what they'd had before felt naïve.

All of that to say: Verso's answer makes him roll his eyes. "I'm not, actually. But thank you for the reassurance, mémère."

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