tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

"You plagiarized, you mean," is another quip. It had counted for quite a bit, actually; the note is still in his back pocket.

Taking on a more serious expression, he leans in, hand brushing Gustave's arm. "It's okay. You had more important things to do." Verso can't very well get upset about the fact that Gustave has people in his life just because he doesn't, although it does seem a rather stark reminder of what a hollow facsimile of living he's actually doing right now.

"—I'm sure Monoco will find it in his heart to forgive you."

[superniceone]

"I had a brotherly obligation," Gustave insists, but he does seem mollified by the touch to his arm, and he starts slicing vegetables. "But I'm unavailable for the foreseeable future." For the next three and a half weeks is what he'd said, actually, which had baffled her.

He pauses, then glances at Verso, mock-serious. "I'm not dating Monoco, too, am I? If you two come as a package deal, fine, but some warning would have been nice." This is solely in reference to Monoco's make believe hurt feelings; he genuinely doesn't care about the third-wheeling.

[recreatable]

Gustave says dating so casually, and Verso feels a little twinge of anxiety as he thinks about what became of the last person he was in a relationship with. It's good that all of this has an expiration date. Once Maelle brings Julie back and she tells the world what Verso did to her, Gustave won't want anything to do with him anyway.

"You're free to ask him," Verso says, shrugging, "if you're interested."

Monoco, from the living room: "He should be so monumentally lucky."

[superniceone]

Gustave already feels guilty about how much anger he still holds for Verso's father, for Painted Renoir, a man erased from existence; it's likely the knowledge of the way he'd manipulated Verso back at the beginning of this all would only exacerbate those feelings.

But he remains oblivious for now, shrugging one shoulder. "He's only got eyes for you, it seems." Gustave considers something, then, and ducks his head to try to mask his own laugh. "I'm going to have to sleep on the couch tonight, aren't I." To his credit, he doesn't sound mad about it.

[recreatable]

The idea that Gustave is planning on staying over again is a new one to Verso, although he doesn't say so; if he points out his surprise, then Gustave might get self-conscious and decide not to. Instead, he responds as if it was the plan all along. "You're the one who said you didn't mind a chaperone," he points out. "But don't worry. I'm sure we can all three fit."

Joking, joking. If there's anyone who'd relegate himself to the couch here, it's Verso — although he secretly hopes he won't have to, given that drooling on Gustave's leg might have been the most restful sleep he's gotten in ages.

[superniceone]

It's late, and it's going to be much later by the time dinner finishes cooking and they've through actually eating. Gustave will admit only to himself that, yes, it had slipped his mind that Monoco was probably snoozing nightly in the single bedroom with Verso—which mostly means that he's probably going to have to hoof it home at some point tonight.

Oh, well. It's not like he needed to be worried about late night crime on the streets of a Lumière still celebrating its renewed life.

"You look nice, by the way," he says, turning back to the veg. "Or, uh— maybe I said that already? Or maybe I just thought it loudly and launched into apologizing for my tardiness instead."

[recreatable]

Verso laughs at the recollection of Gustave's instant apologetics, but he's clearly pleased by the compliment. He doesn't say so, though, instead saying, offhandedly, "I just threw this on."

Not like he stressed over what to wear for 30 minutes or anything.

"I should return the compliment." Both because it's polite, and because it's true. "No wonder they wouldn't let you go."

[superniceone]

"Oh, so you're into suits now?" Gustave asks, and he's glad he's looking at the cutting board so Verso can't fully see the way he cringes. Their relationship is already doomed; accidentally mirroring his conversation with his ex on the day of her Gommage isn't going to bring the mood up.

He clears his throat, moves on quickly. "I think I saw one of your neighbors peeking through their curtains when I got here. Don't imagine you've met any of them yet?" Yet, like it's just understood that one would know their neighbors personally.

[recreatable]

No, of course he hasn't met any of his neighbors yet. Verso is reluctant to even look at the Lumiérians most days, too much tied up emotionally in what his existence has done to them. They induce guilt, but worse still, they make him feel resentful. They're part of this, even in some small way, and therefore part of the reason Maelle is going to suffer.

He sidesteps the question entirely. "Well, they were probably just investigating the source of Monoco's stench."

[superniceone]

The sidestep is answer enough. Gustave hadn't expected him to throw a block party, but he wouldn't have been shocked to find out at least one neighbor had been nosy enough to try to find out who was living in this little home.

"I find it sort of fascinating that there seems to be a genetic component to the habit of bullying the people you love," he says instead. "I'm really not sure what Monoco gets out of your relationship."

[recreatable]

What Verso brings to his relationship is the same thing he brings to all of his long-term relationships: he looks and acts somewhat similar to somebody they loved. "I'm the only one who puts up with his nonsense." And that.

He should offer to help Gustave with the cooking, but instead he picks up a small bit of sliced vegetable and chews on it. Even with his depression appetite, he can only tolerate waiting so long before he gets hungry. "Should I be offended that you can't fathom what I contribute to a relationship?"

[superniceone]

Gustave snacks on a bite of sliced pepper, too—there'd been more drink than food at this evening's get-together—and he'd mostly abstained for his own sake. The intention had been to take his time cooking tonight, a gesture of affection as much as it would be a distraction for himself, but showing up after dark meant he'd scrapped that plan in favor of throwing together a quick piperade instead.

He sets a pan to heat and hums at Verso's question. "I assumed Monoco had more depth than I do. My interest is entirely superficial, after all."

[recreatable]

The quip would be more offensive if Verso weren't skeptical that Gustave is even capable of keeping it superficial. One semi-drunk handjob, and he'd tried to cuddle. Verso has little to offer beyond the superficial, but he's relatively confident that Gustave has at least deluded himself otherwise.

"Oh, I see," is amused. "That's all I am to you. A handsome face and great hair."

[superniceone]

It's true: he's just one of those people wired in a way that makes separating love and sex impossible. He'd just never had the opportunity to realize that before.

"Handsome other things, too," Gustave says, tipping garlic and onion into the pan to saute. He laughs, then adds a little more earnestly: "I meant what I said before. About not realizing I could be this attracted to another man." Sure, he'd found plenty of them attractive, but it was different. Maybe the surviving death together thing made someone hotter.

[recreatable]

"Flatterer," Verso snarks, although he's pleased by the sentiment. He might offer something similar in return—albeit impossibly more cheesy—and say that Gustave sparks feelings he'd thought long dead, but he's very aware of the fact that Monoco can hear him. He doesn't need more ammo to bully Verso with.

Instead, he says, teasing, "But feel free to keep going." He doesn't mind if Monoco has ammo to bully Gustave with.

[superniceone]

God, this would be a really nice evening if the anxious thoughts would stop. He wonders how many more nights like these they'll get, wonders if they're making an unfixable mistake by playing house instead of approaching Maelle more consistently, more firmly.

"I wouldn't want to embarrass you," Gustave says instead, and tries not to let it be obvious that he's knocked the wind out of his own sails for a moment. "Hand me those eggs?"

[recreatable]

The mood dips almost imperceptibly, but Verso is an expert at attuning himself to others' unhappiness. It's unclear what out of Verso's flippant response, if anything, was the culprit, but it doesn't matter; it's still Verso's responsibility to fix it. Eggs in hand, he approaches, leaning in with a tongue-in-cheek, "You know, chefs are really sexy."

[superniceone]

Damn, Verso, the vanity. Can't a guy suffer some minor existential dread of his own making? The remark makes Gustave snort, though, and he cracks two eggs over the onion and pepper before sliding the pan into the oven. "It's almost done, settle down."

He mostly just assumes Verso is hungry.

[recreatable]

Admittedly, he is hungry, but— "I can't think you're sexy without an ulterior motive?"

To be fair, there is very little he does in life without some ulterior motive, and he does have an ulterior motive now. It's just that it's to make Gustave happy, not to get piperade more quickly. (Although he would not be upset if Gustave cooked a little faster.)

Hamming it up: "Maybe I just think the way you crack eggs is irresistible."

[superniceone]

Being casually referred to as sexy is still absolutely bewildering to him. The kneejerk reflex is to think he's being teased— and, well, he is, but it's not the sort of teasing that gets him called sexy ironically.

"Why don't you go wait with Monoco," he says with a baffled little grin. "You definitely have an ulterior motive."

[recreatable]

Gustave's little grin is a win, even if he's getting kicked out of the kitchen for it. Casual affection still doesn't come naturally to him—and it isn't casual, not really, if he has to think about it this much—but Verso leans in to press a kiss to Gustave's cheek anyway, hoping that Gustave will like that, too.

For a split second, it's faltering, betraying how out of his depth he is, but in half a moment the hesitation is gone. It's brief, and he pulls away after, smile lopsided before he absconds to the living room with Monoco as requested.

"Banished, were you?" Monoco asks. "Understandable. That flirting was pathetic."

[superniceone]

Gustave does, in fact, like it — but the smile drops from his face when he's left alone in the kitchen, and he wonders if he should remind Verso that he doesn't need this. Not that he's unhappy about the little gestures, the words; it's just that, standing alone in this small, quiet room, the artificiality of it settles on him like a too-heavy blanket.

It occurs to him that he'd like more than anything else just to crawl back into bed and just sleep until he can't anymore. Maybe he was just worn out from the inescapable socializing earlier, and he tries to shake it off as he plates the food and brings it out to the living room. "I brought a few bottles of wine from the get-together," he says when he offers Verso his, and Gustave drifts toward the piano bench. "I could grab one before I sit down?"

[recreatable]

Verso seems to perk up when Gustave appears, attentive in a way he currently isn't to Monoco (sorry). There's still a slight weariness in Gustave's body language, even after he'd so kindly complimented him; the sight niggles at him.

"A few bottles?" Kind of excessive. "If you're going to need that much wine to get through the night, you could have cancelled."

[superniceone]

Monoco rolls his eyes, grousing something along the lines of be less obvious under his breath.

"They were brought as a gift, not a necessity," Gustave says in the sort of long-suffering tone that indicates he's just playing along. He seats himself at the bench, stabbing some pepper with his fork. "But I'll keep them for myself if you're not interested."

[recreatable]

"I'd be a terrible host if I dismissed my guest's generosity," Verso points out, even though he sort of just did. "And you know me. I never pass up an opportunity to get you drunk."

Monoco thinks that Verso doesn't need more opportunity to get wine-drunk and in his feelings, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he complains, "You didn't bring me any offerings."