superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

It does feel a little strange to be given casual affection when he's not even sure what the exact nature of their relationship is, but that makes him no less enthusiastic. He kisses back, of course, before crouching down to pick one of the blossoms and stick the stem underneath one of the Kingdom Hearts-esque straps on Gustave's jacket, patting it to keep it in place.

"See? Perfectly safe."

Ready for my Gommage, Gustave thinks wryly and absolutely does not say out loud, because he's already had to eat one foot on his walk, and he is quickly running out of appendages.

"I'm swooning," he says with a chuckle, and then seems to realize: "Oh. This is a date." Gustave seems surprised by his own revelation, then genuinely pleased as he touches the bottom of the flower's stem. "Sorry. Wow. That was probably obvious, huh."

...Verso stares.

"Yes, it was supposed to be." And yes, he'd thought it obvious that this was a hike with romantic connotations. He invited Gustave to his hut!! Verso rubs at his eyes, trying not to feel embarrassed about the fact that this entire time Gustave had thought, what, that this was a friendship walk? "But clearly it leaves something to be desired if you're just now realizing it."

"No, it's not—" Gustave laughs again, caught a little off guard, not certain how to phrase it. "I just thought it would take more— cajoling. To swing an actual date with you." They're both utter shit at romance, he realizes. Gustave kept pushing boundaries in his own scramble for something to hold onto; Verso perpetually felt like he could disappear at any moment.

Verso is a gentleman, so he doesn't ask if putting out multiple times doesn't count as 'cajoling' in Gustave's eyes, even though it probably should. At a certain number of sexual encounters, it's rude not to be willing to spend time alone with their clothes still on.

"It's just a hike," he answers, as if he somehow needs to feel defensive about the fact that he's willingly spending time with Gustave. "But I can play hard-to-get, if you'd like to do some more cajoling."

Gustave holds his hand up like he's preparing to defend himself, before he drops it and laughs again. "No," he says, trying to catch Verso by the hip to reel him over. "No more hard to get. Please? Please."

Verso allows himself to be pulled in with minimal-to-no resistance, curling his fingers in Gustave's stupid grass-stained jacket, although he still puts up a perfunctory defense: "I don't know. You really got my hopes up about all that cajoling."

"We might be in trouble if you're hoping for classic seduction," Gustave says, reaching up to cover one of Verso's hands with his own, holding it there against his chest. "You may have to wait until I can find a book on the subject back in Lumière." He's grinning just slightly, leaning hard into his own dorkiness.

"Ooh. Nothing sexier than thorough research."

Probably true, in Gustave's eyes. It must be killing him not to have access to what must undoubtedly be his vast library of books. He laughs, then pulls away, although not without tugging on Gustave's sleeve.

"Hike's not done yet."

"I mean, I could name a few things," Gustave mumbles in response to that, but he allows Verso to pull away, indicating for him to lead the way. "You picked a good route. I especially like the part where we haven't been hassled by any Sakapatate."

"You and gestrals," he says with a shake of his head. Come on, Gustave, be nice. "I guess you'll be glad to go back to Lumière where they won't be able to bother you."

"Hey, I was complimenting the gestrals. I don't want to run into their weird defensive death machines." He's such an ass.

Such an ass!!! But Verso is here to charm Gustave, not defend the gestrals, so he doesn't argue — even though, in his opinion, Gustave should be impressed by the gestrals' innovation.

Instead, he points to a small structure in the distance. It's a makeshift thing, slapped-together planks of wood forming something that can be called a hut only by technicality. If it rained, whoever slept inside would wake up drenched. "My humble abode," he says, as if this isn't the worst 'abode' in existence. "At the risk of overselling it, you should know I have books."

Gustave is impressed! He can be impressed and annoyed at the same time. It's one of the reasons why his relationship with Verso works so flawlessly.

He does pause to squint at the hut, and doesn't say what he thinks: is Verso certain he'd helped with the shield dome? "Any I'd like to read, do you think?" Gustave is eyeing it like he's wondering if he can fix the roof while Verso is distracted.

"None on seduction, I'm afraid," Verso says as he draws nearer to the hut. "But if you like fiction, I might be able to find something for you."

The selection is quite narrow, admittedly, but a few books are better than no books. He's probably reread the same four a hundred times over just to stave off the boredom of eternal life alone.

He can see Gustave mentally picking out all of the flaws in the hut's architecture, and he leans in, shoulder-to-shoulder, saying, "Impressed by the construction, are you?" He knows Gustave isn't; he only wants to see how quickly he'll admit it.

"Not exactly the word I'd use," Gustave says slowly, doing the absolute bare minimum to pretend he's not shocked that it's still standing. He bumps Verso's shoulder with his own, shooting him a sidelong glance. "I could probably whip up the blueprints for a nice treehouse, you know. Wouldn't be that hard at all."

It's only a real offer if Verso decides this hut is a better place to live his life than the repainted streets of Lumière.

"Wouldn't be that hard. And he's modest, too," Verso teases, but that's the end of that conversation. If he wanted something better after this, he could have it. There's a whole manor out there that'll be uninhabited, but the thought of living alone within those walls is too painful. A ramshackle hut feels more fitting, besides. Can't let himself have too good of a life.

The entrance doesn't just lack a locking door, it lacks a door entirely. He takes a few steps inside, shoes stepping on uneven floorboards where bits of red grass peek through, and holds out a hand toward Gustave.

"Can I take your coat, monsieur?"

There are a million near-salvageable buildings scattered all over the Continent. Gustave thinks back to the remnants of the farm they'd seen on the Stone Waves Cliff, or the eerie but beautifully lopsided structures in the Floating Waters. Surely Verso didn't lack for habitable spaces. As much as Gustave gripes about the gestrals, he can't say he blames Verso for wanting to keep close to some sort of civilization.

He follows Verso inside what feels like a glorified child's clubhouse, allows himself to look amused as he carefully extricates the flower from his jacket before he peels it off and hands it to Verso. Not a clue where he's going to put it, but it's been through worse at this point. "I can see the appeal," he muses, apparently checking the structural integrity of one of the walls.

Verso watches as Gustave removes the flower, smiling to himself, privately pleased. He takes the jacket, folding it before placing it on a just-as-makeshift table next to a stack of well-read books. He takes his own off as well, a bit less careful with it as he sets it beside Gustave's. This jacket has been through hell and back a few times over. Failing to properly fold it won't be the thing to ruin it.

He leans against the table, then, hands behind him to brace against it. "I wouldn't have taken you here if I thought it was going to collapse on you, you know." With a crooked smile, he adds, "And your lack of faith in me is disheartening."

Gustave leans past him, just to carefully lay the flower atop his own jacket, before he laughs a little sheepishly at Verso's assessment. "Nothing against you," he says, then gently raps his knuckles against the wall, as if accepting that they're sound. "It's just how I am."

He's trying not to think about what an appealing sight Verso makes like that, choosing to instead try to read the names of the books off the spines. "Fiction is your preference, or were these all you could find?" It's curious, not judgemental.

"Both," he says with a shrug, gaze dropping to the stack of books. "I guess... escapism runs in the family."

Bad joke, but not untrue. The only one who ever faced reality head-on was Clea. She didn't much care for fiction, either. Thought so much of it was 'derivative'.

"You can borrow some, if you like. I've got them memorized."

"Maybe we'll have to restart that long-abandoned book club when we're back in the city," Gustave considers. "But I'll pack them up before we leave. Surely reading is a better way to spend my time in the evening than fussing with the journal appendices."

They're as solid as they're going to get— it's likely clear to everyone but Gustave at this point that it's more a channel for his anxiety than anything else.

"Is this the part where I say I have an even better way for you to spend your evenings, or should I wait for more cajoling first?"

Just putting that out there!! Obviously, he's not beating the megaslut allegations.

Gustave laughs at that, shifting to take one of the books. He can't handle not having something to fidget with when he feels a bit awkward, even if it is the pleased sort of awkwardness. "You're not going to tell me it's best to wait until we're back in the city?"

Guilt pangs in his chest at that, the expectation Gustave has of Verso to both keep him on the hook and keep the line long. It isn't unwarranted, and maybe he should. But keeping Gustave at arm's length has done nothing to stop Verso from getting here regardless, and they'll have so little time together, in the grand scheme of things. It can't hurt to experience something good for just a little while before he dissolves from everyone's life like he was never there to begin with. Escapism does run in the family.

He tilts his head, glancing down at the book in Gustave's hands. The Man in the Iron Mask.

"Do you want me to?"

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