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[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

Unfortunately, Gustave having practiced dancing after their little lesson is the cutest thing he's ever heard in his life. Despite having looked absolutely miserable only a few minutes earlier, his eyes brighten a little with amusement and pleasure. Less 'scary Husky', more 'regular Husky who's excited about going on a W-A-L-K'.

"Did you?" He grins, charmed as he imagines Gustave practicing his steps. Did he put on music, or just count out the rhythm? Was it alone, or did he rope his sister in? It doesn't matter; either way, it gives Verso a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

"All afternoon? You should know that my expectations are sky high." He pushes off the bookshop storefront, glancing back at Gustave as he holds out a hand for him to take. "Maybe you'll be the one teaching me now, monsieur."

[superniceone]

Gustave makes a mock-annoyed sound, but he'll take a Verso's hand, oddly touched by the offer after such an objectively stressful night. "Alright, maybe for a couple of hours, not exactly all afternoon," he protests, like 'a couple of hours' is any less objectively embarrassing.

"I just thought it would be nice to manage one dance with you," he says, giving his hand a little pull, apparently already aware of the closest entrance to the gardens from where they are. "I don't like to let my effort go to waste."

[recreatable]

Verso allows Gustave to lead the way, primarily because he's still a little spent from attempting emotional openness and honesty. He needs a moment to recharge so that he can be properly charismatic when they dance. If Gustave doesn't swoon, it'll be a failed evening in his books.

So, he lets Gustave be his guide for once, following without any complaint. "Just be careful of my injured leg," he jokes, embarrassment at having made such an obvious excuse entering his voice. "Wouldn't want you to have to carry me back."

[superniceone]

Verso isn't the only one sort of spent — it's been a Long Fucking Day in every possible way — but Gustave is happy enough to lead them up some narrow stairs.

"You can stand on my feet if you'd like," he says, tone dry but still in good humor.

[recreatable]

"You know," Verso says as they start up the stairs and toward the gardens, "the first time I asked a girl to dance, I was so nervous that I stepped on her feet three times."

At least, that's the memory he has of it. He was young enough that it must not have really been him—but is it even an authentic memory of anyone's, or is it just something that his mother thought would add a suitably coming-of-age flavor to his backstory? He pushes the thought out of his mind, unwilling to linger on unpleasantness when Gustave has given him a second chance to salvage the evening.

"...And she wasn't half as good-looking as you are," he concludes. "So I'd be careful with your feet."

[superniceone]

"I had an... unyielding crush on a girl when I was young. She was a few years older than me, the daughter of my parents' friends. She came around fairly often when they did."

The story has little to do with dancing, but everything to do with embarrassing himself, and he's both cringing and laughing as he recants it.

"I was so nervous about asking her out that I was— sick. Sweaty. And then when I finally worked up the nerve, I threw up all over her. Turns out the 'sick and sweaty' part had actually been a stomach flu."

Gustave scans the roof for a suitably empty space, quietly hoping no one else had the same idea. "I'm quite a catch, it turns out."

[recreatable]

Ooh, Gustave really likes them older, huh. Cougar hunter over here.

If the aim was to make Verso laugh by embarrassing himself, it works. It's amusing, yes, but also incredibly endearing. Not the vomit—that part's a little gross—but the sheepishness with which he tells it, the complete earnestness. If something like that ever happened to Verso, he'd probably take it to his nonexistent grave, but here Gustave is telling it freely.

"I would have thought so," he says as he breaks away from Gustave to step a little closer to the ledge, peering down at the party below. Gustave was right; he can still hear the music up here, albeit faintly. "I would've seen you here and said something like—"

He turns his attention back to Gustave, affection tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Gustave, right?" As if this is just another night pre-Fracture, as if they're meeting for the first time and Verso isn't a billion years old and too messed up for this. "I, uh, couldn't help but notice you from across the room."

[superniceone]

If Gustave laughs, it's because the approach catches him by surprise. The way he flusters a little is genuine, but he's also amused; whilst the attraction is very obviously mutual, he can't imagine that Verso would have looked twice at him if the circumstances were different. More normal.

"It's alright," he says with a little laugh. It's too sweet not to play along. "My sister put you up to this, didn't she? She thinks being a wallflower is a sin."

[recreatable]

Verso's grin grows wider, pleased that Gustave is giving this stupid little pretend scenario the time of day. Part of him wishes that this could have been the way they met, before every good thing in his life was put on a ticking timer. Another part of him knows that it would have just prolonged the inevitable, but he lies to himself as easily as he lies to others, so he disregards the truth of that.

"Ooh, that obvious?" he says, grimacing as if he's been found out. Even in this fake scenario, he knows that he would be lying. Emma wouldn't have told him to do anything, but he'd readily use her as an excuse to get closer to Gustave.

"I've been tasked with forcing you out onto the dancefloor." Despite being far too old to be doing anything boyishly, he gives a boyish grin, one that's self-aware of how charming it is. "Unfortunately, my hands are tied."

[superniceone]

Gustave slips into self-indulgent thought of his own, allows himself to think about what this sort of life might have been like. It's a pleasant little daydream—one where Verso is able to smile like that without effort, where his laughter is easy and unburdened by second-guessing and self loathing.

He would have been utterly defenseless against this charm, he thinks.

"I don't know," Gustave sighs, like he's being really put upon here, and he offers out his hand for Verso to take. "I've got one dance in me, I guess. I'd hate for you to have to suffer Emma's wrath, after all."

[recreatable]

Verso tugs on Gustave's hand, pulling him in so that he can press his other palm to the small of his back. "Very selfless," he teases as he begins the dance, relatively effortless on his part. Although it's been ages since he's danced with anyone—save for the small practice in his living room—his body remembers the steps, muscle memory from countless parties where he was anything but a wallflower.

"So, Gustave," he says casually, leaning in like he has to talk over the music when in reality it's just selfishness. "I hear you're a very successful inventor."

If they're going to pretend their lives don't suck, they might as well go all the way into fantasy. "Singlehandedly made a machine that turns water into wine? Impressive."

[superniceone]

"Just white," Gustave answers, tutting once like he's disappointed in himself. "I'm still working on red, but it'll happen soon. I can feel it." He's trying not to watch his feet, his back a little too rigid, but it's obvious he's very earnestly trying.

"And I've heard whispers about you all night. You're quite the genius composer, aren't you?" Focused as he is, he gives their joined hands a squeeze. "I hear your arrangement of Chopsticks has changed lives."

[recreatable]

Verso lets out an involuntary huff of laughter at that, exasperated and fond. What a dick. He told Gustave about Chopsticks in confidence!

"Only a few lives," he says with a little shrug, because he's very modest. His hand presses more firmly into Gustave's back, urging him to relax and follow Verso's lead; perhaps an impossible task, considering he's not sure if he's ever seen Gustave fully relaxed in the entire time he's known him. A coil, tightly wound.

"I don't know, though." Even in his most indulgent fantasies, he can't quite imagine a world where he doesn't feel like something is missing. "It's been a while since I wrote something."

His mouth twitches with sentiment, though, and he says, "Guess you could say I've been looking for a muse."

[superniceone]

It's true that Gustave isn't quite relaxing, but — he does trust Verso, so he'll lean a little more into his guidance. He's genuinely pretty fucking surprised when he realizes he's kind of having fun here.

"Well," he stalls, his eyes scanning Verso's face with open fondness, "if you need someone to brainstorm with you, I'd be honored." But they're close, and Gustave will partially drop character just long enough to murmur: "You smell nice."

It's been driving him weirdly crazy off and on all day, the fact that he's smelled like Verso's shampoo enough to instill a strange sort of yearning in him.

[recreatable]

Born to be annoying: "Bold way to come on to a man you just met." But the sentiment is returned, so a moment later he adds, "So do you."

He'd sort of liked the way Gustave smelled even when he most frequently smelled like blood and wilderness, but since returning to Lumière, Gustave has smelled like fresh laundry and soap and—now—the fancy shampoo that Verso had decided to splurge on. Floral top notes with a woody, masculine base; it smells better on Gustave's hair than his own, somehow.

"It suits you." The scent, that is. "You're going to have to come around and— use my shampoo again."

[superniceone]

Gustave's shoulders shake with poorly suppressed laughter. Tonight has been — well, a fucking roller coaster, really, but isn't it always? Not just with Verso, but in general. Maybe it was naive to think that their lives would ever hit a truly even keel. Regardless... he's having fun.

"Monsieur," he says, mock-scandalized, happy to match that annoying energy. "You mean to suggest I abandon my current beau for you? I think you're the bold one."

[recreatable]

Verso raises his eyebrows, then laughs. Sure, why not? He'll steal Gustave away from himself.

"He left you here all on your own," he points out, like that wasn't what he was about to do to Gustave when he'd tried to foist him off on Lucien. He's kind of a bad beau, as it turns out. "Where any handsome rake could sidle up and charm you."

There's a crescendo in the music, and although it's not exactly a traditional part of the dance, Verso lifts his hand to spin Gustave out. "But I'm open-minded—your boyfriend can come, too."

[superniceone]

It's a clumsy sort of spin, if only because it takes Gustave a moment to figure out what Verso is trying to get him to do, but he'll duck into it after a second with a laugh that's louder than what he means.

"How generous of you," he says, eyes bright as he gives Verso a little nudge backwards. He has, apparently, decided that it's his turn to lead. "I'll have to think about it. Could be that I want to keep you all to myself."

[recreatable]

Gustave looks especially handsome when he's happy. It's a version of him that Verso hasn't had much opportunity to see, owing to grief and exhaustion and, well, the fact that Verso's pretty sure he has a knack for unintentionally making Gustave miserable. This is what he'd meant, though, when he'd asked how to make him happy; he'd wanted to know how to make Gustave look like this.

"Good," he says, backleading a little (mostly inadvertently, and a little bit in an effort to help Gustave not to fumble). "Taking multiple lovers is very cosmopolitan"—as if serial monogamist Gustave would ever be the type to do so—"but sharing's overrated."

He'd know. He's had to share everything he's ever had, up to and including his entire life. "I'm all yours."

[superniceone]

It's true that Gustave hasn't had an abundance of reasons to be loudly joyful in a long time—but it's equally true that he's found himself taking more comfort in Verso than anyone else. He thinks sometimes about what it is that binds them now that the Expedition is over (knowledge, mostly, of the Canvas's situation, of the dire circumstances of Maelle's continued existence here), and wonders with a pang if Verso's interest will hold when that problem is resolved.

Ridiculous to think about now, maybe, with Verso in his arms, with the growing confidence of his own meticulously counted steps.

Gustave ducks his head to hide his own smile at those words. The music tapers off; he doesn't stop dancing just yet. "And I'm all yours, mon couer."

write it cœur with the ligature like a real frenchie or get out of here

[recreatable]

The music stops, and he feels reluctant to let the evening come to an end. Reluctant to let any of this come to an end, really. A strange feeling; normally he spends his life wishing it was over.

"Then come with me," Verso blurts out and quickly regrets. He fumbles a step, goes forward when he should have gone back and steps on Gustave's toes. "...Back to my place. I'll, uh—" With a cheeky sort of delivery meant to help recover after his blunder: "Kick my roommate out again."

you literally cannot make me

[superniceone]

It doesn't hurt, but it does startle him. The impulse, admittedly, is to tease—Gustave was meant to be the clumsy one, right?—but the look of regret on in Verso's eyes makes it feel like maybe he shouldn't.

"Okay," he says instead, voice gentle, and loops his arm around Verso's waist to squeeze him closer for a moment. "I did sleep extremely well last night."

only bc i lack the power to freeze the thread 😔

[recreatable]

Verso's heart beats a little too fast from the plea that he didn't mean to make. It's a relief in many ways that Gustave doesn't pick up on—or at least outwardly acknowledge—any underlying meaning to come with me, and yet—

Selfishly, he wants to know what Gustave would say. 'You're so convinced that things are going to fall apart,' he had said, 'that you're pulling the linchpin and making the wheels fall off early just so you can say you did it on your own terms'. Maybe that's what this is, this fear of asking. Or maybe, Verso thinks to himself, it's just realism. Someone who's dedicated his life to Lumière would never be happy elsewhere for long. Asking for more than Gustave can give would spoil the time they have left.

"I think you would have slept like that with or without me," he says, because Gustave was so fatigued that he hadn't cared that Verso was literally on top of him and kissing his face with licentious intent. (He's still vaguely put out about that.) "But I'll take the compliment."

Idly, he smooths down a wrinkle in Gustave's collar. "Sorry about your foot. Just not used to following."

[superniceone]

It is that exact devotion causing Gustave the stress and frustration that he's been carrying around with him since the truth of the Canvas had been revealed. It was one thing to dedicate his life to Lumière, maybe the last fragment of humanity left after the Fracture had scattered everyone far and wide. To preserving its history for future generations, because there was knowledge too valuable in those stories to risk losing.

It was something else entirely to devote himself to Lumière, the ant farm the same age as the man in front of him. Gustave still loves his city, and always will — but it's harder to center his entire identity around it anymore, knowing their existence was never meant to be anything more than set dressing. Even more: knowing how fragile the existence of their world was at all. There's no longer a timer on the Monolith, but when things are quiet he's certain he can still hear the ticking of a clock.

"Well, we'll test it again tonight, then. And if I sleep like a baby again, you're going to have to just deal with being my safety blanket for a while." He lightly taps the top of Verso's foot with his own, before finally releasing him. "And it's harder than you think, isn't it?" Doing it all backwards!!!

[recreatable]

The dance ends, and Verso is a bit rueful. He'd been dreading going to the party, but up here, alone with Gustave, he'd had fun. Felt light, even, like he wasn't dragging around a century's worth of emotional baggage. Although he steps back, he lets his fingertips linger lightly against Gustave's wrist.

"Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes, but— "Hey." He smiles, crooked. "Nice to meet you for the first time."