"Ooh, high praise," he snarks, not admitting that he actually prefers the gestrals; that opinion might be the thing that finally turns Gustave off for good. A brief pause, and then— "I guess I'm going to have to patch up the holes in the roof." You know, of his hut. It's one thing to be rained on himself, but it's another for it to happen to Gustave.
It's more of a relief than he'd realized it would be when it becomes clear that Verso doesn't resent the idea of Gustave accompanying him for a while. Research is, genuinely, the primary reason — and it's a comfort, knowing they both prioritize Maelle above all else — but drawing out their dwindling time together is a nice idea, too. Makes it a little more palatable.
"That means you're going to let me crash with you sometimes, then?" He reaches over, just to gently nudge his shoulder. "I'm flattered."
Obviously. He's sick of being alone. After a while, it's less 'noble solitude' and more 'pathetic and sad'. And, as he'd said, he's fond of Gustave; despite everything—the complicated circumstances of their meeting, the way he's positive that he has a net negative impact on Gustave's life, the vague resentment and jealousy Verso can't quite shake—he prefers being with Gustave to being without him.
He's still learning how to navigate this whole relationship thing again, though, and he'd hate to sound weird and clingy by being too earnest. So, he says, "I figured it would be the most efficient set-up, if I'm going to be dragging Nev corpses back for you to study."
"Don't do that. Don't give them a cutesy nickname. Nevs." Gustave makes a face, like that's the most unattractive thing he's ever encountered about Verso, and he glances up at the door, idly wondering if Monoco is on the other side waiting for Verso to wake.
Sciel will get it, he thinks. Lune will, when he explains the academic bent to it. He's going to be absolutely fucked when it comes to explaining this to his sisters, but he's decided already not to back down — he's going to find a way to help if it kills him.
He blinks. "—and hey, I don't need you to kill nevrons for me."
"All right, killer," he laughs. Although he's certainly more of a scientist than a soldier, Verso has never questioned Gustave's competence in killing Nevrons; sure, he thinks Gustave is less competent at it than he is, but he thinks that of everyone. "I just thought you might be busy doing research, and I figured I should make myself useful before I get kicked off the study."
"Sure," Gustave says, idly picking at a strand of Verso's hair. He knows he's not exactly anyone's ideal of a warrior, but he's never felt particularly incompetent. "Don't think you've got much to worry about, anyway. Eye candy is important for morale."
"Right," he drawls, leaning toward Gustave's fingers the way a flower turns toward the sun. "I'll just laze around attractively while you do all the real work." A pause, before his mood dulls slightly. It's visible on his face, expression turning dour. "Maelle won't be happy with you leaving."
She won't be happy with Verso leaving, either, but he has half a mind—maybe more than that—never to tell her, to pretend he plans to stay until the very last moment. It would lessen the amount of time she'd spend dreading his departure, he tells himself, and has nothing to do with the fact that he dreads having that conversation. Gustave doesn't have it in him to deceive like that, though; he'll tell her instantly, and she'll panic, and it'll all go to hell.
Verso isn't wrong. Gustave is able to vividly recall the heated conversations they'd had in the lead-up to Expedition 33, when he'd be unwilling to brook discussion on her accompanying them and she'd worn him down like a rock in a riverbed. He'd capitulated because of course he did — because he almost always did when she was involved.
"I imagine she's going to be more upset about you," Gustave says, droll, and he sweeps Verso's hair back against his temple. "You don't have much practice being the stern older brother, do you?"
No, he doesn't. He'd preferred being the fun older brother. Unlike Gustave, he never had to be father-and-brother in one; there was always someone else to take on the responsibility of authority. Still: "I can be stern," is a little defensive. "You don't think I'm stern?"
The defensiveness makes him laugh, if only because stern isn't usually a complimentary thing. As much as Emma sometimes felt like she had a few years of maturity on him, Gustave had done his best to step up early, to be what his family and what his city needed him to be.
"No, uh. I don't think you've ever been particularly stern." He's grinning slightly down at him, fond. "Or maybe you're just extra gentle with me."
It's difficult to feel as if he's been in any way gentle when the circumstances of their meeting involved Verso's willingness to let Gustave die horribly. Still, it's true that he's struggled to put his foot down with Gustave when he should have; maybe, though, that's because deep down he never really wanted to put his foot down, just felt as if he had to.
"I can be ungentle upon request," he teases, even though Gustave verbally asking for it rough is so vanishingly unlikely as to be impossible. He sobers after that, though, adding, "I was thinking about not telling her, actually." Mm. He scrunches up his nose. "...It sounds bad when I say it out loud."
"I'm pretty sure I remember telling you I'm not made of glass," Gustave teases back, and it probably says a lot about how comfortable he is currently that he doesn't even blush at that.
He doesn't even flinch at the next part, either, because he's not even a little surprised that Verso has been considering a "cut and run" approach. "And I'm afraid we're going to be telling her the truth, mon chéri. I can't protect either of you from it, as much as I'd like to."
It says something, probably, that Gustave doesn't look surprised or even particularly disappointed. Verso frowns, although it's more petulant than scornful; he can't rightly be upset that Gustave has unilaterally decided that we are going to tell Maelle the truth when he's just glad that there's a we to tell something at all.
Regardless, he very much doesn't look forward to the truth-telling. Why would he, when deceit always smooths things over so much more nicely? "Very stern of you," he notes.
It's not a conscious acknowledgement of Verso's nature, at least; mostly Gustave has just been able to read the discomfort in Verso, both with the city and with his sister. And truth be told, he'd thought about doing the same during the Expedition, though that dream had more to do with parking Maelle somewhere safe whilst he rode out to his inevitable doom.
He presses his thumb gently at Verso's forehead, as if he might smooth the frown away. "Guess so. Where does that land on the nerdy to sexy scale?"
When it comes to Gustave, 'nerdy' and 'sexy' are on the same side of the scale. That is to say, Gustave is at his sexiest when he's at his nerdiest. There is something very charming about a complete and utter dork.
Verso takes the hand smoothing down his frown line by the wrist, pressing a kiss against the palm. Smiling despite himself: "Très sexy."
"Good. Exactly what I was aiming for, obviously." Gustave allows himself to tip back onto his side, considering for a moment, and the shift in conversation that follows is as much because he's hoping to keep hold of the warmth of the morning as long as he can before reality chases it away.
"Would you like things to be ungentle?" There's an unflinching, almost scientific curiosity behind it.
The corner of Verso's mouth twitches, and he suppresses the urge to laugh, just in case Gustave would find it offensive or hurtful. It's just a very silly question, made even sillier by the way Gustave sounds as if he might as well be taking notes.
"You sound as if you're developing a hypothesis," Verso accuses, although there's no heat behind it. "I would like anything that pleased you." Gustave is the first person to even touch him in a very long time; he's hardly unappreciative. In fact, he's just glad to be included.
The way Gustave has to briefly fight a grin of his own suggests that it's entirely possible that at the very least some of the silliness is intentional. He schools his expression quickly, however, shrugging casually under the accusation.
"You're allowed to have preferences of your own, you know," he says, like he's exasperated. "Though I suppose we could always just exhaust our options and see what sticks."
"Maybe you're my preference," Verso shoots back, and it's sort of true. Hard to be picky when you've got a grade A hottie like Gustave around. "But I'm certainly not opposed to... rigorous experimentation." Hypotheses, data, trials, all that sexy stuff.
"'Maybe you're my preference,'" Gustave mimics at that total cop-out and he's definitely just being a shit now, laughing as he flops onto his back. "Well. Suppose it'll make an interesting bag to pack for my stay in the Ancient Forest."
It feels a little strange to realize that there will be time to try things at all. Good-strange. Every relationship he's ever had with another human has had an expiration date; this one won't last forever—Gustave will grow tired of his complications eventually, and besides, he'll want to return to his real life in Lumière at some point—but its end isn't looming ominously in the near distance, either. It's nice.
"Hey," Verso complains as he shifts onto his side. "I was being romantic." Don't make fun of him!!
Gustave lifts his own arm, folding his forearm across his eyes as he chuckles again. It's a strange feeling, acknowledging how much this reminds him of lazy mornings with Sophie. She and Verso have very little in common, save for perhaps what feels like razor sharp wit from Gustave's perspective; despite that, the feeling is so similar that it almost aches.
"Yes, and I was being filthy. What's your point?" He wouldn't dismiss Verso's complaint fully out of hand like that if he thought he were being serious.
Trying to destroy the entire universe would be sooo back on if he knew Gustave were thinking about his ex right now, but luckily he doesn't, so he just laughs. Probably not the reaction Gustave was hoping for, but it's hard not to. It's very cute when Gustave pretends to be filthy.
"Yeah, you're a real deviant." It's fine. He loves that Gustave is the sort of impossibly sweet that makes Verso a little worried that he's going to scare him off by coming off as some sort of perverted sex freak. "I would be privileged to be ungentle with you, mon amour."
Gustave's feelings— okay, they're not actually hurt at all by Verso's laughter, because it's probably justified. Hooking up with Verso in the first place had been hands down the most scandalous thing he'd ever done with another person, and that was mostly only even because they were relatively near the camp.
Still, he can pretend. "Why do I feel like I'm being made fun of?" He's so full of mock exasperation!! "It's important to discuss these things."
Well, that would be because he's being made fun of. Affectionately!!! It's all very affectionate.
"Oh, definitely," Verso says sagely, even though he's never extolled the virtues of communication before in his very long life. "Good that we're having this conversation now, before I decided to throw you down and have my way with you in the hut." The sexy, sexy hut. Once Verso puts a door on it, it'll be the biggest turn-on, just you wait and see.
"Not entirely certain where we landed on it, though." This is true! How dare Gustave make fun of him for copping out on preferences when he didn't express any of his own, either. "I can always prepare candles and roses instead, if you prefer."
There is a nonzero chance he'll burn down that whole hut, though.
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"That means you're going to let me crash with you sometimes, then?" He reaches over, just to gently nudge his shoulder. "I'm flattered."
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He's still learning how to navigate this whole relationship thing again, though, and he'd hate to sound weird and clingy by being too earnest. So, he says, "I figured it would be the most efficient set-up, if I'm going to be dragging Nev corpses back for you to study."
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Sciel will get it, he thinks. Lune will, when he explains the academic bent to it. He's going to be absolutely fucked when it comes to explaining this to his sisters, but he's decided already not to back down — he's going to find a way to help if it kills him.
He blinks. "—and hey, I don't need you to kill nevrons for me."
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She won't be happy with Verso leaving, either, but he has half a mind—maybe more than that—never to tell her, to pretend he plans to stay until the very last moment. It would lessen the amount of time she'd spend dreading his departure, he tells himself, and has nothing to do with the fact that he dreads having that conversation. Gustave doesn't have it in him to deceive like that, though; he'll tell her instantly, and she'll panic, and it'll all go to hell.
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"I imagine she's going to be more upset about you," Gustave says, droll, and he sweeps Verso's hair back against his temple. "You don't have much practice being the stern older brother, do you?"
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"No, uh. I don't think you've ever been particularly stern." He's grinning slightly down at him, fond. "Or maybe you're just extra gentle with me."
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"I can be ungentle upon request," he teases, even though Gustave verbally asking for it rough is so vanishingly unlikely as to be impossible. He sobers after that, though, adding, "I was thinking about not telling her, actually." Mm. He scrunches up his nose. "...It sounds bad when I say it out loud."
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He doesn't even flinch at the next part, either, because he's not even a little surprised that Verso has been considering a "cut and run" approach. "And I'm afraid we're going to be telling her the truth, mon chéri. I can't protect either of you from it, as much as I'd like to."
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Regardless, he very much doesn't look forward to the truth-telling. Why would he, when deceit always smooths things over so much more nicely? "Very stern of you," he notes.
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He presses his thumb gently at Verso's forehead, as if he might smooth the frown away. "Guess so. Where does that land on the nerdy to sexy scale?"
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Verso takes the hand smoothing down his frown line by the wrist, pressing a kiss against the palm. Smiling despite himself: "Très sexy."
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"Would you like things to be ungentle?" There's an unflinching, almost scientific curiosity behind it.
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"You sound as if you're developing a hypothesis," Verso accuses, although there's no heat behind it. "I would like anything that pleased you." Gustave is the first person to even touch him in a very long time; he's hardly unappreciative. In fact, he's just glad to be included.
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"You're allowed to have preferences of your own, you know," he says, like he's exasperated. "Though I suppose we could always just exhaust our options and see what sticks."
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"Hey," Verso complains as he shifts onto his side. "I was being romantic." Don't make fun of him!!
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"Yes, and I was being filthy. What's your point?" He wouldn't dismiss Verso's complaint fully out of hand like that if he thought he were being serious.
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"Yeah, you're a real deviant." It's fine. He loves that Gustave is the sort of impossibly sweet that makes Verso a little worried that he's going to scare him off by coming off as some sort of perverted sex freak. "I would be privileged to be ungentle with you, mon amour."
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Still, he can pretend. "Why do I feel like I'm being made fun of?" He's so full of mock exasperation!! "It's important to discuss these things."
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"Oh, definitely," Verso says sagely, even though he's never extolled the virtues of communication before in his very long life. "Good that we're having this conversation now, before I decided to throw you down and have my way with you in the hut." The sexy, sexy hut. Once Verso puts a door on it, it'll be the biggest turn-on, just you wait and see.
"Not entirely certain where we landed on it, though." This is true! How dare Gustave make fun of him for copping out on preferences when he didn't express any of his own, either. "I can always prepare candles and roses instead, if you prefer."
There is a nonzero chance he'll burn down that whole hut, though.
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