There's nothing out of the ordinary on the bookshelf, really, but Gustave might notice that they're all books Maelle is fond of.
"That's a little presumptuous. The smiling and hair-twirling could mean anything."
Joking, of course, as he returns with two bottles in hand — one already half-depleted, for himself, and a new one for Gustave. He's a gracious host who won't make Gustave drink his backwash, because he didn't exactly buy wine glasses, either. Until yesterday, he hadn't expected to ever have anyone over, and last night's conversation really hadn't left him with the desire to go shopping.
"I feel like it's fair to point out that's just the way she is," Gustave says, continuing to absolutely miss the flashing neon signs right in front of his face. He doesn't seem bothered by being handed a bottle directly; he did have wine glasses, and he'd still forced Verso to drink like a philistine anyway.
He clears his throat, though, because it feels a bit silly to talk about someone Verso doesn't know, and moves on. "It's a nice place. Do think your hut had a bit more charm."
Uh, yeah, you think that's just the way she is because she's always flirting with you, he absolutely does not say, because if Gustave has dropped the subject, it'd be pretty stupid to try to convince him a beautiful woman wants to have sex with him.
"Everyone's a critic," he gripes even though he actually agrees, taking a seat on the piano bench, turned around so that he can look at Gustave. "But there's far more things to lounge handsomely on here."
He slides the fall board down behind him, making a point of leaning an elbow back on the piano so that he can do the aforementioned handsome lounging. It's the first time he's even sat at this piano, actually; much like Gustave, he's experiencing some creative block.
Gustave has really picked up so well on the applause that Verso needs to survive. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he lifts his bottle back. "You're not so bad yourself, bel homme."
Bad at being intentionally attractive, maybe. Very talented at being accidentally so, though.
Gustave does look a bit accidentally rakish — his hair has grown out just enough to be slightly shaggy after that gestral cut, there's already a five o' clock shadow after yesterday's shave, and his slutty little casual clothes are clean but slightly rumpled from spending most of the day in bed.
Of course, the impression he assumes he gives is total slob, which is why he's assuming Verso is teasing him (and also falls entirely in line with his usual skill at only ever really being comely by complete accident.)
Gustave closes his eyes for a moment, amused, just trying to recall Verso's specific phrasing once back during the Expedition. "You should probably know you're not as hard up as you think you are," he says, all in clear good humor.
Then he'll get another piano bench??? Not that he really believes Gustave has ever pounced on anyone in his life. He's fairly sure they're not commensurate in horniness, just as people.
But he removes himself from the bench, if it's going to be such a cockblock. "It's not a salient point, actually." Essentially: What part of ghosting you for a week don't you get? I'm obviously crazy about you. Settling down on the divan, arm extended across the back, still very shamelessly trying to 'lounge handsomely', he adds, "And I was hoping for a little swooning, at least."
"Oh, but I've swooned. I was swooning and flattering you just a little while ago, and for it I got teased for having a baby face."
The arm across the back of the divan is — absurd to the point of amusement, honestly, reminds him so much of his awkward friends in their youth trying to cozy up to girls they fancied. Gustave will lean into Verso regardless, because - well. He wants to, and because he's decided to take what he can get when Verso is running hot instead of cold.
Gustave's not supposed to feel crushed under the weight of his own knowledge, he's supposed to feel happy. Or at least like his spirits have been lifted a bit. Otherwise, what was all of this for?
It isn't that this is wholly to cheer Gustave up, but that's certainly a motivator for Verso to lay it on thick with a, "Not as much as you, mon beau." There is, of course, truth to the words—he thinks Gustave is very, very handsome—but they're still said more out of a desire to make Gustave smile than because he's overcome with tender feelings.
Gustave laughs again, gently grabbing Verso's face and kissing him soundly. He sits back up after that — slouching into Verso isn't really conducive to drinking wine — and smiles down at his own hands. "You're a— goddamn ridiculous man." I missed you is what that means, and also something he worries will spook him.
Gustave is smiling, which is a win. Verso smiles back, pleased with his achievement. "All right, all right," he says, as if Gustave is really twisting his arm. "You can be the most handsome one."
"Oh, that is how I'm known throughout Lumière," Gustave says wryly, and he closes his eyes — not tired, just comfortable. "You were right. This is much better than staying locked in my bedroom."
Casual affection with other human beings is not something he's wholly acquainted with anymore, and he's not quite sure how to do it without it being strange, but it is something Gustave seems to enjoy. He places his hand on the back of Gustave's neck, letting it rest as a warm weight there. Very normal and casual, like it's not something he has to think about.
"I'm right about a lot of things," he says, echoing that wry tone. "Probably as a consequence of being so old and wise."
Well, if nothing else, it's immediately clear that Gustave relaxes into the warmth of Verso's hand even if he doesn't quite clock it himself. It just feels nice, and he tips slightly toward him again.
"It is a bit alarming to think that you could have known my grandparents," he says, "but I've gotten over it."
Ew, he probably definitely did know Gustave's grandparents. There is nothing about this relationship that isn't a red flag.
"You know, some find an older man sexy," he complains, although there really has to be a limit at some point. 'Call me grand-daddy' is significantly less hot.
Gustave very gently knocks an elbow into his side. "I think it is very well established fact at this point you are sexy," he says, a little incredulous. "But you could continue to lounge alluringly if you'd like my to be sure."
Gustave can't help the reflexive way he rolls his eyes, leaning over to put the wine bottle down. "Wouldn't want to break any brittle old bones," he says, twisting around to face him more fully. "Forgive me." He's kind of annoyed by how hot Verso is, actually!!
"It's all right, you know," he adds, "if you don't feel like... pouncing." His voice is still light, and his thumb brushes the little hairs at the nape of Gustave's neck. "I'm pretty good at talking, too." A beat, and then he adds, "Debate club champion."
There is absolutely no telling if he's lying. Gustave can't prove anything.
The hand on the back of his neck continues to feel really nice, actually. It's possible that the idea of just stretching out on the divan, accompanied by Verso and the rest of that bottle of wine and inane conversation, is actually more appealing than sex — but the truth is, he's not entirely sure if that's the case or not. He wants something in that vague way that happens when an unsteady mind causes the shine to dull on the things you usually love.
He doesn't know what that something is, but the hand on his neck is a good start. Gustave shakes his head no, a gentle dismissal of Verso's offer, and does what is probably the closest thing Gustave does to 'pouncing': he kisses him hard and without the sweetness from before, hands firm as they grip his upper arms and move to push him down onto his back.
"Or pouncing is good, too," he says as he complies easily, since he doesn't want Gustave to think he's not in support of whatever way Gustave chooses to try to forget about how awful everything is today. It's a good thing they didn't go to the bedroom, he thinks, because it's even more sad and pathetic in there. At least out here, there's a veneer of respectability and plausible deniability that he hasn't just spent the last week wallowing in self-hatred.
He lets his hand slide up to Gustave's hair, just getting long enough again to actually grab in any meaningful way. He likes it better this way, a little longer and more wild; it's soft and pleasant to the touch, sort of like Gustave. He says as much, a complimentary, "I like your hair like this."
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"That's a little presumptuous. The smiling and hair-twirling could mean anything."
Joking, of course, as he returns with two bottles in hand — one already half-depleted, for himself, and a new one for Gustave. He's a gracious host who won't make Gustave drink his backwash, because he didn't exactly buy wine glasses, either. Until yesterday, he hadn't expected to ever have anyone over, and last night's conversation really hadn't left him with the desire to go shopping.
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He clears his throat, though, because it feels a bit silly to talk about someone Verso doesn't know, and moves on. "It's a nice place. Do think your hut had a bit more charm."
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"Everyone's a critic," he gripes even though he actually agrees, taking a seat on the piano bench, turned around so that he can look at Gustave. "But there's far more things to lounge handsomely on here."
He slides the fall board down behind him, making a point of leaning an elbow back on the piano so that he can do the aforementioned handsome lounging. It's the first time he's even sat at this piano, actually; much like Gustave, he's experiencing some creative block.
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Except Gustave is one of those boring aggressively monogamous kind of guys, and where he hadn't really seemed to take actual notice of Ophélie's flirtatious overtures, he is clearly dialed in to Verso's. He makes a point of inspecting him, then lifts his bottle of wine slightly. "You are the reigning champion of handsome lounging, after all. I really should be taking notes."
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Bad at being intentionally attractive, maybe. Very talented at being accidentally so, though.
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Of course, the impression he assumes he gives is total slob, which is why he's assuming Verso is teasing him (and also falls entirely in line with his usual skill at only ever really being comely by complete accident.)
Gustave closes his eyes for a moment, amused, just trying to recall Verso's specific phrasing once back during the Expedition. "You should probably know you're not as hard up as you think you are," he says, all in clear good humor.
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"It's a salient point! And you're sitting on a piano bench, it's not like I can just pounce you." What if he breaks it!!
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But he removes himself from the bench, if it's going to be such a cockblock. "It's not a salient point, actually." Essentially: What part of ghosting you for a week don't you get? I'm obviously crazy about you. Settling down on the divan, arm extended across the back, still very shamelessly trying to 'lounge handsomely', he adds, "And I was hoping for a little swooning, at least."
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The arm across the back of the divan is — absurd to the point of amusement, honestly, reminds him so much of his awkward friends in their youth trying to cozy up to girls they fancied. Gustave will lean into Verso regardless, because - well. He wants to, and because he's decided to take what he can get when Verso is running hot instead of cold.
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It isn't that this is wholly to cheer Gustave up, but that's certainly a motivator for Verso to lay it on thick with a, "Not as much as you, mon beau." There is, of course, truth to the words—he thinks Gustave is very, very handsome—but they're still said more out of a desire to make Gustave smile than because he's overcome with tender feelings.
"Well." A beat. "We'll say it's comparable."
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"I'm right about a lot of things," he says, echoing that wry tone. "Probably as a consequence of being so old and wise."
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"It is a bit alarming to think that you could have known my grandparents," he says, "but I've gotten over it."
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"You know, some find an older man sexy," he complains, although there really has to be a limit at some point. 'Call me grand-daddy' is significantly less hot.
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There is absolutely no telling if he's lying. Gustave can't prove anything.
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He doesn't know what that something is, but the hand on his neck is a good start. Gustave shakes his head no, a gentle dismissal of Verso's offer, and does what is probably the closest thing Gustave does to 'pouncing': he kisses him hard and without the sweetness from before, hands firm as they grip his upper arms and move to push him down onto his back.
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He lets his hand slide up to Gustave's hair, just getting long enough again to actually grab in any meaningful way. He likes it better this way, a little longer and more wild; it's soft and pleasant to the touch, sort of like Gustave. He says as much, a complimentary, "I like your hair like this."
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verso when he gets called out on the problematic age gap https://tinyurl.com/4b23jztk
holy shit that's hilarious
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