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[superniceone]

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[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."

[superniceone]

"I did," Gustave says with a little wince, and a look at Verso that clearly spells apology. "I brought some throwing daggers from the old expeditioners' academy for you." Not like the equipment there is going to see much use now. "They're in the bag in the kitchen."

This is how he's trying to win the approval of Verso's best friend. He's just really sorry about contributing to the existing damage in the home.

"Could get you access to the building if you wanted, you know."

[recreatable]

Monoco perks up. Daggers!! For throwing!!! Inside the house!!! Then he realizes that he's practically puffing up with joy, so he leans back against the divan, trying to maintain his cool exterior. With a shrug, he says, "Well. It would be something to pass the time."

Very chill. A moment later, though, he's hopping up off the couch— "I'm going to go look at something. In the kitchen." Verso pinches the bridge of his nose. "Don't mind any sounds."

As Monoco scurries off, Verso levels Gustave with a Look™.

"Are you trying to destroy my house, or is that just an added bonus?"

[superniceone]

Gustave meets Verso's eyes with a Look™ of his own, unapologetic and amused. What he doesn't say is we both know you're not here for long; instead, he makes a point of chewing contemplatively. "Thought you could use a little more decoration," he says instead. "But I really wasn't going to give them to him until it was time to go." As if that's any actual consolation.

[recreatable]

Verso doesn't ask if 'time to go' means when Gustave leaves tonight or when Verso and Monoco leave forever.

"Luckily for you, I'm feeling very magnanimous." A forgiving soul. He grins at Gustave, faint and sloping. "Must be something about those big, brown eyes." A pause, and he spears a pepper with his fork. "...Or maybe the hanger"—because if they have the word 'bromance', they surely have the word 'hanger'—"is just receding."

[superniceone]

There's a dull thwack from the kitchen, and Gustave cringes visibly. He hesitates, then stands, moving to drop down lightly into the spot Monoco had been occupying until now. He dips down, pressing a quick kiss to Verso's shoulder. "Hey. It really is good to see you. You think your roommate will mind if I stick around to read a while?"

[recreatable]

Verso gets the distinct feeling that Gustave is only saying this to distract him from the fact that a Gestral is currently tossing knives in his kitchen, but, well. He's easy. He sets his plate down on the coffee table before shifting to look at Gustave, blurting out, "I'll kick him out of the bedroom, if you want."

It's a good thing Monoco isn't here to listen to this. Verso can actually feel how pathetic this sounds, but he can't help it; Gustave only just got here, and he doesn't want him to just make dinner and leave.

With a shrug: "There isn't... that much fur on the duvet."

[superniceone]

Gustave doesn't seem to find it pathetic; if anything, he just seems a little guiltily relieved. "I can handle a little fur." He pauses, then laughs, dragging his hand down his face. "God, why is this so awkward? We've had sex in the woods. Why is it weird now?"

[recreatable]

Well, it doesn't feel great to know that Gustave thinks this is awkward, considering how hard he's been trying to be charming this whole evening. He's right, of course, this is awkward, but Verso had at least hoped that he'd been able to cancel some of it out.

Is it weird because you know somewhere deep down that this is a mistake? he doesn't ask, because he doesn't want to ask stupid questions that he already knows the answer to. Instead, his initial response is a flippant, "I thought I was doing a good job," followed by a much more sincere worrying of his lip. "Is it, uh... too weird?"

[superniceone]

Gustave shakes his head at that, nudging Verso in the ribs lightly with his elbow. "You were doing a good job. I'm the one who shouldn't be allowed out in public, honestly." The question seems to catch him off guard, though, and he gives Verso a slightly baffled look. "You're worth a little weirdness. I was just- apologising."

[recreatable]

Verso had asked because Gustave's mood has tipped into 'slightly dour' a few times tonight, and it all being too weird could certainly have been the reason why. He doesn't push, though. It's the Dessendre way to leave a wound alone until it's so badly infected that it can't be ignored.

"A few bottles might have been the right call." Hearkening back to the wine. "A couple of those, and you won't know the meaning of the word 'awkward' anymore."

[superniceone]

"I'm never going to hear the end of it if I go home drunk tonight," Gustave says, but it's not a no. He isn't beating the 'slightly dour' allegations, mostly because he's wondering if he should tell Verso that he's not worth Verso hanging around for; that if he wants to go, he should. But it's a strangely intense sentiment, and he's honestly not sure why he's suddenly struck with this sentiment.

"I think we're just both out of practice. With the 'relationship' thing," he says, and then relents, adding what they both know: "It's not— irresponsible, do you think? We shouldn't be— spending our time more productively?"

[recreatable]

"Irresponsible is my middle name," comes quickly, without thought. "It's a family name."

Honestly, it might as well be. But he feels somewhat chastened by the question, even though he doubts it was Gustave's intention to cast aspersions. A little defensiveness bubbles up in his chest; he's been productive for nearly seventy years, and he's tired. More still, he was going to be productive by never returning to Lumière, but Gustave hadn't liked that, either. No matter what he does, no one is pleased.

Again, he says none of this, because it's much healthier to build up silent resentment instead.

"...I am trying to be productive." By staying away from Maelle. The less attached she is to him, the better.

[superniceone]

"No, I didn't mean— I am, too." But Gustave isn't trying hard enough, is he? He's going on dates, making dinner, daydreaming about Verso sleeping peacefully with his head in his lap. "Don't listen to me, I'm just tired. I can get mercurial. I'm grateful for you."

He'd been vaguely irritated every moment his attention had been required somewhere else; maybe that was part of the problem. Selfishly, selfishly, he resented the fact that he wasn't here instead.