superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

Gustave snorts, and isn't proud of his own abrupt and intrusive thought: maybe adoring Verso and Maelle is inevitable. Maybe it's coded right into their genes. He chases that away, quietly horrified at himself, his hand tightening slightly on Verso's leg.

"We've got these amazing things in Lumière," he says, holding up his free hand like he's imagining a marquee. "'Locking doors.' Can't wait to introduce you to all of their practical uses."

Verso's not quite sure how he went from trying to gracefully dump Gustave to promising him a whole month, but when he laughs involuntarily at Gustave's dorky, charming humor, he has an idea. Gustave makes things seem not so dire, somehow, like maybe there's a chance that everything isn't horrible forever. Verso, in all his selfishness, can't help but chase that feeling.

"Hmm," he says, staring into the fire as the corner of his mouth twitches up. "Never heard of them. Are they related to this fraternization I keep hearing so much about?"

You can't break up until you've both hit the streets of Lumière in matching slutty little ensembles, Verso, it's basically law.

The fact that they're on an even enough keel to joke around is a massive relief, anyway. Gustave wasn't sure how this conversation was going to go, but— the outcome could have been worse. "Mm. Frequently, yes. I'll have some stinging nettles brought into my room if you need a reminder of home."

Catch-22, no one could ever break-up with Gustave while he's wearing a slutty V-neck!!

The wilds of the Continent aren't home, but the concept of home is too heavy of one to discuss here, now. He's still recovering from Gustave having seen him at his most miserable and pathetic. He may never recover, honestly.

Instead, he keeps it light. "Sweet of you. But I'll admit, I imagined your room to be too full of nuts and bolts to be used for extracurricular activities."

"My bedroom is extremely normal," Gustave protests, then grows quiet for a moment. "Or was, I suppose. Emma said she'd handle my things if I didn't come back. Really the only time it felt like she actually believed in the mission."

He glances at the rest of the camp, then back at Verso, before he'll once again channel Sophie— hoping more than anything to summon her ease and elegance as he parrots the sort of thing she used to say. "Hey, lay down. Let me play with your hair." Surely eight thousand belts will make a nice pillow.

"Um," he says, very suavely. "Okay."

This is all— not new territory, but certainly territory that he hasn't tread in long enough that it might as well be. He scoots to the side, moving to hover awkwardly over Gustave's lap, a ridiculous echo of the way Gustave had been hesitant to rest his weight on Verso. He's not at all nervous about crawling into Gustave's lap, but putting his head into it feels significantly more intimidating.

"Family can be... challenging," he says to distract from how faltering he is, before finally setting his head down on Gustave's thighs. "But—ow—" The belts are very pokey. He readjusts. "—She's your sister. I'm sure she believed in you."

Not the mission, maybe, but at least her brother.

"Hard not to, when you have all the determination of Monoco detaching a Nevron foot." It's not pretty!!

Okay, maybe 'put your head in my lap' is the kind of thing that a young, beautiful woman can get away with saying without it being strange; it probably has a different vibe coming from a dorky, mustached man in his thirties. He's preparing to apologize, to tell Verso it's fine, but then he settles and— okay, yeah. Still kind of weird, but also nice, too. Gustave slides his hand into Verso's hair, sort of just gently petting him, and he can understand why Sophie was so fond of doing this to him.

"She believed that I was an idealist," Gustave muses, his hand steady, and then he exhales an abrupt laugh. "She hit the roof when I blew up my arm. Nearly got banned from my own workshop forever, you know."

The vibe of it coming from a dorky, mustached man in his thirties hadn't been unappealing, but it does feel strange. Always painfully aware of the way he's perceived, he can imagine Maelle or Lune or Sciel looking over and seeing this, and he isn't certain what they'd think. It's one thing to think the world's most questionable man is just sleeping with your friend, but it might be another to see him laying his head in said friend's lap.

He links his hands together over his abdomen and tries not to let himself get carried away. Instead, he thinks about how Esquie will probably be jealous that he wasn't invited.

"Mmm," he hums disapprovingly. "Well, I wouldn't know about that sort of thing. I've always been an angel."

Obviously not, but at least he never blew anything up.

Gustave is by nature neither a jealous nor a possessive man, but there's no denying that a small part of him is making an intentional statement here. If Verso is going to return to Lumière with them, if they're going to trial a thing, whatever shape that thing ends up taking — he doesn't want it to begin and end as some kind of shameful secret.

"What a load of absolute horseshit," Gustave says, tone affectionate as his hand sweeps gently over Verso's brow. "You know I had to fix all that shoddy work you did on the shield dome myself, right?" Spoken like Verso's involvement with the shield dome isn't the sexiest thing about him as far as Gustave is concerned.

"Shoddy seems harsh," he gripes, although— yeah, it was probably shoddy. He's not scientifically minded like Gustave, hasn't spent the better part of his life taking things apart and putting them back together. Creative, sure, imaginative — but the actual implementation probably left something to be desired.

"And you don't know it was my work. It might have been"—hell, he almost says Papa's—"someone else's fault."

Gustave chuckles down at him, gentle as he scratches his nails against Verso's scalp. "Hmm. Maybe," he hums, trying his best to telegraph that the picking on is flirtatious!! "Suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt just this once."

Sort of absurd to be sitting here and relaxing like this, but he'll take it.

It is absurd, and Verso feels a twinge of guilt for enjoying it. He closes his eyes for just a moment, inhaling. Gustave's fingers feel different from Julie's: little calluses on his fingertips from working with machines, less slender and elegant. And, he supposes, Julie's would be very cold now.

"We should sleep while we can," he says, opening his eyes. "I have second watch, and Lune may find the cure for immortality if I don't relieve her on time."

Gustave wants to protest, to ask Verso if it would kill him to just relax there a little while longer, but he holds it back. "Get some sleep," he encourages quietly, bracing both of his hands behind him and stretching his back. "I've got some writing to do tonight." Religiously.

As he sits up, he says, dryly, "And here I thought you'd be begging to cuddle." Kidding!!! He is absolutely kidding. They haven't even had the what are we conversation, and Verso definitely doesn't plan on being the one to venture there.

But he does make an overture, reaching over to—briefly—place a palm on the back of Gustave's neck. "Stay up too late, and I might have to volunteer you for my watch instead."

Gustave leans his head back just very slightly into the touch, obviously enjoying it. "Well. If you need help staying warm, I would be happy to step in if Monoco's not feeling up to the task."

He hesitates, then leans in, trying to be extremely casual as he bumps a kiss against the side of Verso's mouth and murmurs a goodnight. If he pretends he's extra cool and chill about all of this, maybe he can convince himself.

It's objectively ridiculous to feel flustered about being kissed good night when Gustave's mouth has been far more scandalous places on his body, but he does anyway. "Well, you are furry," he says fondly, gently flicking one of those sizeable brows, but leaves it at that.

While Verso absconds to lay out his bedroll, Esquie approaches Gustave with a dejected, "Verso never lets me pet him." Because Esquie messes up his hair, for the record. One of Esquie's hands pat-pats Gustave's hair. Maybe Gustave will be more amenable to pets. "But humans are just the right size for petting."

"You saw that, did you?" Gustave cringes just the littlest bit, but he won't swat Esquie off. Is he exasperated beyond measure at the sheer whimsy that seems to radiate at times from Esquie and the gestrals? Sure, of course. At the same time... he doesn't like that Esquie sounds dejected. 😩

"He's just very particular about his hair, I think," says Gustave, who is Not. "Don't hold it against him." As long as Esquie doesn't accidentally crush him, he can tolerate most things for a little while.

Esquie is a gentle soul!! He clumsily but gently strokes the top of his head, like a child with questionable motor skills showing affection to a puppy.

"Best friends don't hold things against best friends," he says, like everything really is that simple.

Despite the gentleness, he is tousling Gustave's hair to a degree that would certainly irritate someone as image-conscious as Verso. "See? You're good for petting. That must be why he likes you so much."

"You think so? He's a difficult man to read." It's probably a good thing Gustave's hair is just always a nightmare, but he will reach up to tokenly try to smooth it down as he glances Verso's way.

Opening up to Esquie is not something that's ever come super naturally to him, but as he pulls out his journal and thinks on it— he figures this is the sort of sentiment that he probably can't easily share with anyone else. "I mean, I do. Want him to like me, that is. But I'd— like him to just find happiness at all. Whatever that looks like for him."

"Verso is so silly," Esquie says, voice full of affection. If Gustave wondered about fondness for the Dessendres being built into him, there's no wondering about Esquie. He was made to be Verso's true and loyal companion. "He likes you so much it makes him feel bad."

Not that Verso has told him such, in so many words. But best friends know these things!! He 'helps' smooth down Gustave's hair when he notices the attempt, although his hand is so large that it just makes everything worse.

"It's okay. I like you so much it makes me feel glad."

That sure is an Esquie answer. But Gustave has endured much more agonizing things than a rats' nest being made of his hair whilst in the pursuit of knowledge, so he'll pretend like he's not halfway to being bowled over by the assistance.

"Why would he feel bad about that?" Gustave asks, Extra Casual. He's the one that has things to feel bad about! That's Maelle's brother! Who didn't even want to return to Lumière in the first place!!

"Hmmm," Esquie says, genuinely contemplative. Verso hasn't always been honest with him, either. He knows this, and he doesn't hold it against him — as he'd said, best friends never do. It does, however, make it more difficult to accurately answer Gustave's question.

"Maybe he's thinking about Julie. She used to pet him, too." A sigh, then, "I liked Julie, too."

Oh. Well. It hadn't occurred to him that the impulsive little gesture of affection might actually dredge up bad memories. Verso had reassured him that it was understandable if he was nervous, thinking about seeing Sophie again; projection, maybe, about Julie.

Ah.

"Hey, I'm sure Maelle will find a way to bring her back. You know she wants all of us to be happy."

"Oooh," Esquie says, removing his hand from poor Gustave's head to clap lightly. "Then we can all be friends." He's genuinely excited about the prospect of bringing everyone he's lost back. Losing the Expeditioners has been hard on him, too. Luckily, he never has to be alone, because he has such a good friend and neighbor in Francois. "I was so sad when Julie had to go away."

"Mon ami," Verso calls from the other side of camp, holding up a pebble between his thumb and forefinger. "I have a gift for you."

"A baby rock," Esquie coos.

"You'd best go meet your new friend," Gustave says, and he awkwardly waves an arm in brief gratitude Verso's way as soon as Esquie's back is turned. He has no idea if this was an intentional ploy to distract their mutual massive marshmallow friend, or if Verso was just genuinely excited to give him a pebble — both felt equally likely — but he's glad to have a little space now all the same.

When he pulls out his journal, it's more to distract himself, to keep himself from catching up with Verso and trying to start another conversation.

Even from her own relative distance, Lune could not roll her eyes harder if she tried, and she pledges to continue keeping out of it.

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