tfln overflow / open post

[superniceone]

(open / overflow)

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[recreatable]

Shhhh you're not supposed to know that my entire motivation behind getting Gustave back on the Continent is so I can finally have that sweet Gusgus h/c I've been DEPRIVED OF.

But for now, Gustave is neither hurt nor in need of comfort; it's Verso who's using him as a scrawny, knobby-kneed teddy bear instead. It's a little awkward given how foreign it feels, but it isn't bad. Gustave is warm, and his hair smells good. Like Verso's shampoo.

As for the arm: "It might. If it falls off in the morning, you'll have to help me stick it back on."

[superniceone]

"You always know just what to say to make me feel better," Gustave says in a tone that's wholly mock-dry, before he closes his eyes and takes a breath. They've come a long way from awkwardly holding hands in neighboring sleeping bags.

"I'm going to need you to snore a little, maybe, if you don't want me to get used to this." Because it's actually quite nice???

[recreatable]

Obviously, he wishes he could tell Gustave that he's completely welcome to get used to this, but that isn't the dynamic here. In fact, he's being very selfish by even doing this. Verso needs to stop indulging in the pleasure of being liked by someone and start getting his shit together, but— he'll do that tomorrow. He's wine-drunk tonight, so clearly he can't be held responsible for his actions.

His eyes close, too, and he falls into (companionable!) silence for a moment before letting out an exaggerated snore.

[superniceone]

Gustave's shoulders tremble in silent laughter, before he gently tries to drive his elbow back into whatever he can nudge of Verso. He settles after that, though, and spends just a little extra time awake, relaxed and allowing himself to appreciate the calmness of the embrace, the peacefulness of the quiet room.

Verso should serve as a stark and constant reminder of his own existential dread, but somehow it's only in shared spaces with him that he's able to drift off without it creeping in. He's going to angle to spend as many of the nights of their remaining two weeks together pretty much exactly like this.

[recreatable]

Sleep is usually difficult to come by, but Verso doesn't mind lying awake listening to Gustave's gentle breathing at all. Eventually, he finally falls asleep, too, arm still slung across Gustave's torso, and the night passes without incident. It's late morning by the time that rays of sun peek in through the curtains—that he's finally opened up a bit, after all this time—and wake him, and in his sleepy daze it's easy to forget that there's anything fraught about this at all. Half-asleep, with his nose pressed against Gustave's hair, it feels deceptively simple.

He lies there for a good while until Gustave's breathing changes from the steady, slow breaths of sleep and he begins to stir. Only then does he let his own breath tickle the back of Gustave's neck, saying, "Hey." Very impulsively, he presses his mouth to the aforementioned back of Gustave's neck; he was wine-drunk last night and he's still half-sleeping today, and that's his excuse. "I would offer breakfast in bed, but I'm not sure burnt eggs go with the sheets."

[superniceone]

Gustave had slept deep and well for the most part, disturbed by nightmares only during the tail end of his rest. He wakes with a sense of overwhelming relief, and the swing from the aching grief manufactured by his own sleeping mind to the impulsive press of lips against the skin of his neck is almost enough to give him whiplash.

"Hey," he echoes, shifting to turn in the arms around him, still slightly groggy. "S'alright. Your arm still attached?"

[recreatable]

"Mm," is Verso's noncommittal response. His arm is fine, actually. Sandwiched between his body and the mattress, but fine. Still, he grins lopsidedly, saying, "You might have to amputate." With a gentle flick of Gustave's robotic arm, fingernails clinking against the metal: "Get me one of those cool arms, too."

[superniceone]

"Not a chance. Everyone would think I'm the copycat." Things are good. They're— warm, comfortable. Nice, even, in this little shared sliver of time, but the dread from his dreams sticks to him still like wet clothes. It's fading, but he touches Verso's jaw and gives him a (closed-mouth) kiss anyway, like he thinks it might help it fade faster.

"Gonna stay here today," he says, a statement and not a question. "You might have to let me know what else I can bribe Monoco with."

[recreatable]

Verso's certainly not upset about the prospect of Gustave hanging around, although eventually Maelle's going to be the one who needs bribing when she inevitably gets annoyed about Verso keeping her favorite person from her. Ugh, Maelle. It finally feels as if he might not combust on the spot if he speaks to her, although he still hardly knows what to say. He should tell her he's leaving, probably. God knows how she'll take that.

But that's still in the future—and will remain so until he can't avoid it—so he pushes the thoughts out of his mind to be ruminated on later, when he's alone. "You could give him a gun," Verso jokes offhandedly, before quickly adding, "—Don't give him a gun."

A gestral with a gun is the last thing Lumière needs.

"You look a little shaken," he points out then, the observation light and casual. "Was the cuddling that bad?"

[superniceone]

"Well, I'm not using mine anymore. How's his aim?" It's just a little toothless stalling; it feels juvenile, almost, to admit that he's troubled by bad dreams. He imagines that it's probably rarer to find anyone involved in an Expedition in any capacity who isn't.

And complaining about it to Verso, specifically, seems cruel.

"Just a nightmare. Not even an interesting one." Just one that had thrown him back to the Continent with the nonsensical sleep-logic, where he'd looked around and realized that everyone was gone again, that they'd never been back in the first place. Gustave's expression creases slightly in thought, and he really does seem just more tired of it than distressed. "You sleep alright?"

[recreatable]

"Like a baby," he says, offhanded, because he's not the one they're talking about here. Verso rarely dreams at all anymore; the endless nothingness is a bit depressing, but at least he doesn't wake up in a cold sweat. "You want to talk about it?"

[superniceone]

Gustave squints at Verso for a moment, trying his best to see if he can recall a moment when Verso let himself ask for help for himself.

"It was— stupid, honestly, in the way dreams always are." It's not a refusal, just a little warning. "We were mid-Expedition, and I'd, uh— made it all up. Everything after the Paintress, I mean. Everyone was gone, and I had to grieve them all over again. Tedious more than horrifying."

[recreatable]

Mmm. Verso carefully doesn't mention that Gustave's nightmare—that all of this is just made up, that this isn't the sort of world where you can just repaint someone who's gone—is his dream come true.

"That sounds hard," he says, sincere in the fact that he knows it must have been painful to experience loss like that both in reality and the dream, and rubs Gustave's shoulder. "There's nothing stupid about grief." A thoughtful hum. "I'll have to hold you tighter next time."

[superniceone]

Gustave doesn't mind the notion of death in itself; he had very much accepted the impermanence of life when he was young, as much as it had drawn him towards his interest in history. Having it happen so abruptly, though — and everyone all at once, for a second time — had just been a punch in the gut.

But it would be hard to hold onto those fading feelings if he wanted to right now, and he doesn't particularly want to. He's closing his eyes instead, smiling sedately at that little remark. "I should probably start a list today," he murmurs. "Imagine packing for a field study is going to be quite different than doing it for an Expedition."

[recreatable]

"Field study?" Verso asks, expression blank, without recognition. He runs through his memories, looking for a clue, then— "You're talking about the Nevron thing?"

Gustave had said he'd help, but he'd thought that meant helping on an intellectual level, not actually getting his boots on the ground. Maybe Verso should have asked, but Gustave had been in such a surprisingly good mood that he'd gotten... distracted. With other, equally important things.

[superniceone]

It's going to be difficult bringing this up with Maelle — she's been giving breathing room to adjust to this new reality, but he can sense her growing frustration.

"Mmhmm," Gustave says, eyes closed. "Can't actually bring the entire workshop, much as I might like to. Too much delicate equipment."

[recreatable]

Probably better that Gustave has his eyes closed, because Verso goes on a bit of a face journey. "Oh," he says, eyebrows raised before he tries to school himself back into a more neutral expression. Feeling a little stupid, he continues, "I thought you'd want to stay here. In Lumière."

That's what all of this agonizing has been about. Wishing things could be different, but knowing that Gustave's loyalty is and always has been with Lumière.

[superniceone]

Gustave does blink his eyes back open at that, his own expression slightly puzzled. He realises then that maybe this is the sort of conversation that merits sitting up a little bit, and shifts back to push himself up onto his elbow.

"The Expeditions are over. Lumière needs Emma now, not me." And it won't need either of them if it's burnt to ashes by the Dessendre family. He hesitates, then adds: "Not sure how I'm meant to help you out from here, anyway."

[recreatable]

"Figured you'd just use that big brain of yours to tell me what to do," Verso admits, a little sheepish, because maybe it was a silly thought. He just hadn't expected that Gustave would ever want to be anywhere but here, the place he's spent his whole life trying to protect. Casually: "How long are you planning for this field study to take?"

[superniceone]

Gustave wrinkles his nose at that, because research-by-proxy like that sounds - well. Either 'less than ideal' or just 'straight up miserable,' depending on how candid he feels like being. "Not really something I'll have an idea of until the work starts."

He's being extremely careful not to use words like we here; he's made the assumption that Verso is looking forward to a life of quiet privacy again, doesn't want to spook him into fleeing early.

[recreatable]

Verso picks up on that, actually! It's a little confusing, the way Gustave only refers to himself when he's certainly not the only person who's going to be on the Continent. He would have thought that, if Gustave were planning on leaving Lumière, this whole thing they're doing might unwisely continue. Would have hoped that, if he's being completely honest. Judging by the way he's talking, though, one has to wonder if Gustave has other ideas.

"Oh," he says again, stalling for time until he can think of what to say. "You should, uh, wear one of those little explorer outfits."

Like this.

[superniceone]

"Only if you do the same." Gustave hesitates slightly then, because— well, he might be dense, but not so much that he's missed the slightly awkward shift in tone. "Sorry, I'd thought we were on the same page about all of this."

[recreatable]

"No," he says quickly, loath for Gustave to think he's somehow overstepped or done something wrong here. Maybe it's been obvious this whole time that Gustave planned on making an excursion to the Continent, and Verso was just blind, or perhaps distracted by the impending orgasm. "You're fine."

A moment of consideration, and then he flops onto his back, sigh-laughing in embarrassment. "It's just that I've spent the last two weeks agonizing over wanting you to come to the Continent, and then you just— decided to come on your own."

[superniceone]

God, they suck at communication. Gustave relaxes when he hears the laughter in Verso's voice anyway, embarrassed in his own right as he is. "Agonizing over it? I told you I was thinking about it before we even left the Continent." Of course, that was just when he'd been trying to run away, not when he had an actual goal to work toward.

He watches him for a moment, then pushes up from the way he's leaning on his arm to sit up properly, shifting back to rest against the headboard. "Honestly, I thought you might just need some space after, uh—" Weeks of Gustave glued to his side. "Lumière."

[recreatable]

That had been Gustave's idle fantasy of not having to face reality, not an authentic desire to be there on the Continent. It wouldn't have mattered where he was, as long as he wasn't in Lumière. He'd been sure that once Gustave spent a little time back in Lumière, his opinion would change; then again, he'd also been relatively confident that he'd get dumped the moment Gustave got to see his ex-girlfriend again, too, and that hasn't yet happened.

"I've had 67 years of space," he points out, turning his head to peer up at Gustave from his pillow. It's been an incredibly lonely several decades, and although he'd resigned himself to several more incredibly lonely decades henceforth, it isn't as if he'd been excited about it. It had just felt like the sort of self-harm he deserved to engage in. "...And this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm sort of fond of you."