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."
It was the haircut that had led Emma to gently needle Gustave about shaving, and he won't mention now that she'd been suggesting he let her the shagginess out of his hair. He doesn't hold public office; Verso's opinion is much more relevant than however respectable people he doesn't know find his physical presentation.
He smiles down at the genuine compliment, a little of the warmth there that has mostly been ground out by exhaustion at their general circumstances. Maybe this was a good idea, he thinks, knees settled to either side of Verso's hips as he ducks his head to drag the slow and warm trail of his mouth against Verso's throat. "I'll keep it this way, then," he murmurs.
He doesn't really need to keep it that way, considering Verso's possible plans for his future are currently 1) disappear never to be seen again or 2) die, hopefully, but it's a sweet thought nonetheless.
"I like that, too," he says, because Gustave seems to like the compliments, and it's true. "Your mouth." The words that come out of it, too, even though they're dorky and awkward. "I guess you could say tu me plais aussi."
Bold of Verso to think he has a chance of actually disappearing for good when their entire world amounts to little more than a ten gallon fishtank.
Gustave smiles against Verso's skin at the compliment, shifting up to press a soft kiss to his jaw, just beneath his ear. He wants to say thank you, that he knows this kind of affection isn't second nature to him like it is Gustave, but he doesn't want to shine a light on it. Instead, he just murmurs: "Bit of the challenge gone now that we're not in uniform."
"I could go put a few more layers on," he offers, and it's not his ('vintage') uniform he's poking fun at. "A couple more belts, if that'll spice things up."
Yeah, there's nothing kinkier than Gustave's truly excessive amount of belts. Verso laughs back, an easy call-and-response; it's a relief to see Gustave not in active wallowing, the weight on his shoulders a little lighter. Now Verso just has to keep things like this forever, which is fine and not impossible at all.
He untucks Gustave's shirt before tugging it over his head. "You know, you look a bit devilishly rumpled." From rolling around in bed from a fit of depression, but still. "You're encroaching on my territory."
Hey, Gustave is thinking the exact same thing about Verso! Their weird, depressing feedback loop is only getting worse and there is zero respite in sight.
Not that Gustave really feels like he has any time to spare to ruminate on that right now, what with the way his shirt has been pulled off. "You've had a lot more time to perfect the look, I think." He sits up just enough to navigate Verso's shirt off as well, knees locked gently squeezing Verso's sides to provide himself with leverage.
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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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He smiles down at the genuine compliment, a little of the warmth there that has mostly been ground out by exhaustion at their general circumstances. Maybe this was a good idea, he thinks, knees settled to either side of Verso's hips as he ducks his head to drag the slow and warm trail of his mouth against Verso's throat. "I'll keep it this way, then," he murmurs.
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"I like that, too," he says, because Gustave seems to like the compliments, and it's true. "Your mouth." The words that come out of it, too, even though they're dorky and awkward. "I guess you could say tu me plais aussi."
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Gustave smiles against Verso's skin at the compliment, shifting up to press a soft kiss to his jaw, just beneath his ear. He wants to say thank you, that he knows this kind of affection isn't second nature to him like it is Gustave, but he doesn't want to shine a light on it. Instead, he just murmurs: "Bit of the challenge gone now that we're not in uniform."
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He untucks Gustave's shirt before tugging it over his head. "You know, you look a bit devilishly rumpled." From rolling around in bed from a fit of depression, but still. "You're encroaching on my territory."
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Not that Gustave really feels like he has any time to spare to ruminate on that right now, what with the way his shirt has been pulled off. "You've had a lot more time to perfect the look, I think." He sits up just enough to navigate Verso's shirt off as well, knees locked gently squeezing Verso's sides to provide himself with leverage.
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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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