Gustave leans up slowly, hand flexing as he resists the urge to make a mess of the hair that Verso so kindly just (mostly) fixed for him. "I get... a little in my own head sometimes," he starts awkwardly; it feels greedy, in a way, to be disclosing this at all when it's really not about him and his issues right now. "It gets hard to think. It's like my brain is—"
He cuts himself off, shakes his head. Recalibrates.
"What I mean to say is— I would have picked up on it immediately, most of the time. I'd like it if I could be home for you."
How quickly he sidesteps anything having to do with his own struggles. Gustave's insistence that he's had a good life despite the looming specter of the Gommage rings in his ears; Verso wonders now if he was telling the truth or only saying what he thinks he's supposed to say.
Backtracking: "Perils of being a genius, I'm sure." A mind in constant movement. It must be overwhelming at times. Particularly when Verso is there adding to his troubles.
Gustave had allowed the touch of his hair, so Verso reaches out for that mechanical hand, fingers wrapping around the cold metal. "You're the one bright light in the darkness," he says, humiliatingly sincere in a way that suggests he's definitely written poetry about this. "That's why I didn't want to tell you." Contrite: "I didn't want you to leave."
Gustave knows that this isn't right, the way he locks up, freezes entirely; but he isn't sure what choice he has other than to just push past it. He'd found himself again on the Stone Wave Cliffs, at least, when the ringing in his ears had only made it easier to step forward and accept his own swiftly approaching death. He doesn't mind talking about it in theory, but in practice - it feels awkward, attention-seeking. He hasn't been through it worse than anyone else.
Just easier to focus on the now, and on the way he can feel his face flushing hot at the remark like a smitten schoolboy. He ducks his head slightly, like he hopes he might actually hide some of the color on his face. After a moment, he leans with a tired playfulness into Verso's side. "I don't plan on it. If that helps at all."
Gustave's face flushes faintly red, and Verso experiences some cute aggression flow through him. If he weren't nursing a pounding hangover right now, he'd be inclined to shove Gustave down and kiss all over his warm face, but he's really not up for any sudden movements right now; instead, he lifts Gustave's prosthetic hand to press his mouth to the metallic triangles of his knuckles.
"Good to know. Neither am I." It's weird to feel like this relationship isn't teetering on disaster. Weird, but not bad. "Did you sleep at all last night? You fell asleep sitting up like an old grand-père."
"An hour or two maybe," Gustave confesses, and the sweet way Verso kisses his knuckles makes his stomach flip in a pleasant little flutter. "I was anxious about clearing the air with you, I think."
There's still a stiff line of tension in his throat, a part of his mind stuck in a hypervigilant state of alert that he can't quite turn off — but it's easier when he's here.
"But I'll be fine after some coffee." In case Verso doesn't, actually, want to go back to sleep.
"You and coffee," he manages to laugh out softly, despite everything. There's still an underlying sense of anxiety, the fear that one day Gustave will wake up and feel differently about the horrible things Verso has done, but it's at least lessened now. A dull thrum of worry in the back of his mind, ignorable if he tries. "I'm afraid you have a dependency."
It's a gentle reminder that he still needs to figure out what they're going to do coffee-wise on the Continent. Perhaps, with Esquie's help, they could make a shopping trip every once in a while.
Setting Gustave's hand back in his lap, he says, "Personally, though, I could stand to sleep."
"Comes with being an engineer, I'm afraid." It's not like a vintage wine will help keep you bright eyed and bushy tailed when in the middle of a complex project. There's also a significant part of him that's content to just enjoy what he can while he can; rations are going to be sparse until he gets some sort of farming setup established.
The idea of sleep is appealing, though, and he makes an agreeable little noise, shifting around to scoot up the mattress. "Not good to drink alone, you know," he says like he's not a professional of doing exactly that, and he lifts an arm like he's offering Verso the space to cuddle up.
"I know. Esquie's been telling me that for decades."
There's nothing more sad than being on the receiving end of an Esquie intervention, honestly. He has very few other coping skills, though, and no one to really talk to about these things. Monoco couldn't understand, things with Lune have been awkward and tense since they confronted Renoir, Sciel is busy being deliriously happy with the love of her life, and even if he were in a better place with Maelle, he's absolutely not discussing the troubles in his relationship with her foster brother.
He settles down beside Gustave, pressed in next to him, too tired to come up with an excuse for it other than wanting to be close to somebody that he loves. "I promise I'll only do all of my excessive drinking with you from now on." Until the next time that they have an argument and he convinces himself that it's really over this time.
Mouth quirking up: "It worked to seduce you the first time." As if any part of that awkwardness counted as 'seduction'.
Gustave's limbs are heavy with his own tiredness, but comfortably so with Verso's warmth and weight pressed into his side. He touches a soft kiss to the side of his head, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary. The relief that he's not doing this alone hits him like a wave that breaks seconds before it crashes onto the shore, and he can feel just the littlest bit of that tension relax.
"I really don't know if the drinking worked in my favor that evening or not," he murmurs, eyes closed. "I seem to remember having to convince you that I was of sound mind."
"Yeah, well, I was worried you might regret it," he says, taking the opportunity to trace the contours of Gustave's face with his eyes while he isn't looking. "That I was going to make things— weird. And I..."
Still felt guilty about what he nearly let happen on the Cliffs, doubly so after getting to know Gustave. Triply so after Gustave started doing strange-but-pleasant things like 'excessively kissing' him.
"I lied about my fraternization experience," he admits, laughing sheepishly. The truth comes out!! After everything he just confessed to Gustave, it feels silly to try to keep that bravado up. "It had been... a lot longer than I let on."
"What, seriously?" That gets his eyes to pop open again, because of every possible thing he thought Verso could have maybe embellished, that wasn't actually on the list. Gustave is trying so hard not to laugh, but it's such a stupid, inconsequential thing, absurd to the point of peak comedy after what was actually a very stressful night. "But you were so— confident."
Sure, there had been the occasional hiccup, but Gustave had imagined it to be a combination of less cumulative experience with other men and trying to safely manage fraternization in the woods like a pair of horny animals. "And I was the one you chose to end your dry spell with?" He's shaking a little with suppressed laughter, squeezing Verso with the organic arm wrapped around him. "Sorry, I just— You're such an appealing man, so I just assumed."
Verso can feel the little tremors of Gustave's poorly stifled laughter, and he can't decide whether to be flattered or offended. It's complimentary, he supposes, that Gustave thinks he's so attractive that he'd be that— active. After the disappointment and disillusionment of recent years, even the prevalence of speaking to another human being dropped significantly, much less anything else. For a while, he'd entirely given up on the Expeditions. If not for Maelle, he probably wouldn't have spared this one a second glance, either.
"Let me do it over. On the Continent." It kills him to think that that's Gustave's memory of their first time. Awkward and halting and probably not even very good. He definitely doesn't want to admit how long it had been since he kissed a person before that. "I'll ply you with wine, ensnare you with my charm. Blow your clever mind."
"I don't need a do over," Gustave says with another little laugh, and he gives Verso a pull, trying to urge him up for an actual kiss. "I like the way we started. I mean—"
Okay, maybe not every moment of it. Maybe parts of it were miserable, but it definitely doesn't warrant a massive do-over.
"Je t'aime," he murmurs softly. "You don't need to prove anything to me."
Verso kisses him, closed-mouth and chaste, because he's not going to not kiss him after spending a large chunk of the last twenty-four hours convinced it would never happen again. It feels odd to still be treated so nicely and told such sweet things after what he had been certain was an event horizon, and he surreptitiously pinches his own thigh to make sure this isn't some pathetic wish-fulfillment dream.
Right after pulling back, though, he does argue, "Oh, it's not for you." A lie—of course it's for Gustave. Verso happens to think the sun shines out of his ass, and the thought of someone having the gall to make him a no-strings-attached wilderness fuckbuddy really grates at him, even if that someone was himself. Regardless, he says, "The do-over is all for me. It was over way too fast."
Gustave doesn't say what he thinks: that it been so casual, the lead-up to their hookup so— well, incidental, he has trouble imagining that same scenario not playing out for him dozens of times.
"Okay. Sure." He swallows down another soft laugh. "We can make plans when we're out there." Gustave pauses, idly stroking his fingers against the back of Verso's neck, an idle attempt to be soothing as he lapses into silence. After an uncertain pause, he asks: "What do you think will happen if Maelle can fix your— immortality thing? D'you think you'll just start aging normally, or will you just turn into a shriveled little grand-papa all at once?"
Gustave falls into silence, and Verso assumes that means he's drifting off, so he closes his eyes, too. They're still closed when Gustave asks his question, which is probably a good thing, because otherwise his brow would raise skeptically. If he were going to age all at once, he imagines it would probably end in keeling over, but he doesn't say so for fear of making Gustave anxious about the possibility.
Instead, he corrects lightly, "Great grand-papa." He's old as balls. "Don't worry. I won't hold you to anything if I turn out a wrinkled old raisin."
Gustave snorts at the correction, leaning his cheek into Verso's hair. "I don't like the implication that I'm so superficial," he murmurs, and maybe this isn't a conversation they should be having when they're both half-dozing, but it can't be helped: it's one of those things that his ceaselessly churning mind has locked onto.
"Still not really sure how— the rules of all that work." Maelle hadn't been able to help the Clea who had been painted into this world, after all. "But if she can—?" Is that something he'd even want?
There's truly no lore explanation for why Maelle would be able to do that, so Gustave should avoid hurting himself trying to wrap his head around it.
As for whether he'd want that— sure. Maybe. It would be strange to see himself age after decades of staying exactly the same, but 'strange' isn't bad. Experiencing something different, something that the Verso outside the Canvas never got to, wouldn't be unpleasant. He does wonder, though, if Maelle might be hesitant to gift him something like that out of fear that he might end things prematurely. Then again, if he did, she'd only have to bring him back. He's dubious whether she'd even be willing to let him go when his proper time came.
A lot of things to consider. Including, "Would you want me to?"
Gustave has honestly never really given much thought to the idea of his own aging past a certain point. He was hopeful about his Expedition, of course, had enough faith in their chances of success that he'd eventually stopped fighting Maelle in the face of her determination to come along — but even then, the day before departure, he'd felt compelled to remind her the years ahead of her were only promised if she stayed behind. He'd hoped, of course, to see his forties someday, but it was never something he had actively counted on.
He hums a quiet, thoughtful sound. "Could be nice to have company for the whole 'growing old' thing. But I don't think my opinion should be worth much here."
Verso can't help but smile. He constantly lives in fear of this one good thing turning to dust in his hand, but it's nice that Gustave doesn't seem to feel the same. That he can imagine a world where this lasts long enough for them to age, and that he can think of the future at all in any way that isn't the hazy darkness Verso can only assume most Lumièrans picture when the subject comes up.
"I look forward to your outsides matching your insides." Old!!!
"...I should let you get older first," he says after a moment. Older physically, if not chronologically. He's not opposed to silver fox Gustave. Playful: "Then you can be the genius inventor and I can be the trophy."
Gustave has no idea if the two of them are going to work out, or for how long — or, really, if they're even going to be able to somehow save Maelle and the Canvas alongside her. Regardless, he can't just assume they won't.
"You know I'm already obviously older than you, right?" It's probably less obvious than Gustave actually thinks, but whatever. "But I'll have to start wearing glasses full-time to really sell the 'genius inventor' thing, I think," he says, because they're canon now.
Gustave's mad scientist hair that looks as if it's never seen a brush in its life sells that plenty well, he thinks, but better not to say that.
"Sexy," is half a tease and half the truth, because it turns out he's very into the whole genius-inventor-tenured-professor-librarian vibe. He does, after all, actually like the unbrushed mad scientist hair. "If you'd worn them on the Expedition, I would have tried something much sooner." This one's a full tease. Gustave's looks, librarian-coded or not, were never the issue.
Gustave laughs out loud at that. Merde, they're meant to be sleeping, but there's something soothing about a no-stakes conversation. He still has questions: is Verso still going to bring Julie back? Is he going to let the others know what happened, way back when?
But, for now at least, it feels okay to let that lie. Maybe just for a few hours.
"I really only need them when I'm tinkering," he exhales — and maybe reading, a little, too, but he's reductant to admit that for some reason. "And I didn't plan on doing much tinkering on the Continent."
"You'll be doing more now." Out of practicality, but also out of enjoyment, he assumes (and hopes). There's only so much research to be done in a day, particularly when their research question is so very vague. He likes to imagine that their daily schedule will be something like— wake up, do degenerate things to each other, kill some Nevrons and drag their corpses back for study, dinner, Gustave tinkers with a project while Verso tries to master the guitar, do degenerate things to each other again, sleep.
He's open to suggestions, though.
"We'll have to hide you from the gestrals or they'll be all over you begging for you to build them a new Sakapatate."
Gustave has only ever lived in Lumière; he still hasn't quite thought in too much detail about what the specifics of a life anywhere else might look like. The idea of having time to tinker just for fun again, though? It's appealing.
"You know, I might not actually mind that," he muses. He pauses, then adds: "Know I said you didn't have to prove anything, but it's not nice to be left in limbo."
He said he loved you!!! And you left him on read!!!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
superniceone) wrote2025-06-23 06:53 pm
no subject
He cuts himself off, shakes his head. Recalibrates.
"What I mean to say is— I would have picked up on it immediately, most of the time. I'd like it if I could be home for you."
no subject
Backtracking: "Perils of being a genius, I'm sure." A mind in constant movement. It must be overwhelming at times. Particularly when Verso is there adding to his troubles.
Gustave had allowed the touch of his hair, so Verso reaches out for that mechanical hand, fingers wrapping around the cold metal. "You're the one bright light in the darkness," he says, humiliatingly sincere in a way that suggests he's definitely written poetry about this. "That's why I didn't want to tell you." Contrite: "I didn't want you to leave."
no subject
Just easier to focus on the now, and on the way he can feel his face flushing hot at the remark like a smitten schoolboy. He ducks his head slightly, like he hopes he might actually hide some of the color on his face. After a moment, he leans with a tired playfulness into Verso's side. "I don't plan on it. If that helps at all."
no subject
"Good to know. Neither am I." It's weird to feel like this relationship isn't teetering on disaster. Weird, but not bad. "Did you sleep at all last night? You fell asleep sitting up like an old grand-père."
no subject
There's still a stiff line of tension in his throat, a part of his mind stuck in a hypervigilant state of alert that he can't quite turn off — but it's easier when he's here.
"But I'll be fine after some coffee." In case Verso doesn't, actually, want to go back to sleep.
no subject
It's a gentle reminder that he still needs to figure out what they're going to do coffee-wise on the Continent. Perhaps, with Esquie's help, they could make a shopping trip every once in a while.
Setting Gustave's hand back in his lap, he says, "Personally, though, I could stand to sleep."
no subject
The idea of sleep is appealing, though, and he makes an agreeable little noise, shifting around to scoot up the mattress. "Not good to drink alone, you know," he says like he's not a professional of doing exactly that, and he lifts an arm like he's offering Verso the space to cuddle up.
no subject
There's nothing more sad than being on the receiving end of an Esquie intervention, honestly. He has very few other coping skills, though, and no one to really talk to about these things. Monoco couldn't understand, things with Lune have been awkward and tense since they confronted Renoir, Sciel is busy being deliriously happy with the love of her life, and even if he were in a better place with Maelle, he's absolutely not discussing the troubles in his relationship with her foster brother.
He settles down beside Gustave, pressed in next to him, too tired to come up with an excuse for it other than wanting to be close to somebody that he loves. "I promise I'll only do all of my excessive drinking with you from now on." Until the next time that they have an argument and he convinces himself that it's really over this time.
Mouth quirking up: "It worked to seduce you the first time." As if any part of that awkwardness counted as 'seduction'.
no subject
"I really don't know if the drinking worked in my favor that evening or not," he murmurs, eyes closed. "I seem to remember having to convince you that I was of sound mind."
no subject
Still felt guilty about what he nearly let happen on the Cliffs, doubly so after getting to know Gustave. Triply so after Gustave started doing strange-but-pleasant things like 'excessively kissing' him.
"I lied about my fraternization experience," he admits, laughing sheepishly. The truth comes out!! After everything he just confessed to Gustave, it feels silly to try to keep that bravado up. "It had been... a lot longer than I let on."
no subject
Sure, there had been the occasional hiccup, but Gustave had imagined it to be a combination of less cumulative experience with other men and trying to safely manage fraternization in the woods like a pair of horny animals. "And I was the one you chose to end your dry spell with?" He's shaking a little with suppressed laughter, squeezing Verso with the organic arm wrapped around him. "Sorry, I just— You're such an appealing man, so I just assumed."
no subject
"Let me do it over. On the Continent." It kills him to think that that's Gustave's memory of their first time. Awkward and halting and probably not even very good. He definitely doesn't want to admit how long it had been since he kissed a person before that. "I'll ply you with wine, ensnare you with my charm. Blow your clever mind."
no subject
Okay, maybe not every moment of it. Maybe parts of it were miserable, but it definitely doesn't warrant a massive do-over.
"Je t'aime," he murmurs softly. "You don't need to prove anything to me."
no subject
Right after pulling back, though, he does argue, "Oh, it's not for you." A lie—of course it's for Gustave. Verso happens to think the sun shines out of his ass, and the thought of someone having the gall to make him a no-strings-attached wilderness fuckbuddy really grates at him, even if that someone was himself. Regardless, he says, "The do-over is all for me. It was over way too fast."
no subject
"Okay. Sure." He swallows down another soft laugh. "We can make plans when we're out there." Gustave pauses, idly stroking his fingers against the back of Verso's neck, an idle attempt to be soothing as he lapses into silence. After an uncertain pause, he asks: "What do you think will happen if Maelle can fix your— immortality thing? D'you think you'll just start aging normally, or will you just turn into a shriveled little grand-papa all at once?"
no subject
Instead, he corrects lightly, "Great grand-papa." He's old as balls. "Don't worry. I won't hold you to anything if I turn out a wrinkled old raisin."
no subject
"Still not really sure how— the rules of all that work." Maelle hadn't been able to help the Clea who had been painted into this world, after all. "But if she can—?" Is that something he'd even want?
no subject
As for whether he'd want that— sure. Maybe. It would be strange to see himself age after decades of staying exactly the same, but 'strange' isn't bad. Experiencing something different, something that the Verso outside the Canvas never got to, wouldn't be unpleasant. He does wonder, though, if Maelle might be hesitant to gift him something like that out of fear that he might end things prematurely. Then again, if he did, she'd only have to bring him back. He's dubious whether she'd even be willing to let him go when his proper time came.
A lot of things to consider. Including, "Would you want me to?"
no subject
He hums a quiet, thoughtful sound. "Could be nice to have company for the whole 'growing old' thing. But I don't think my opinion should be worth much here."
no subject
"I look forward to your outsides matching your insides." Old!!!
"...I should let you get older first," he says after a moment. Older physically, if not chronologically. He's not opposed to silver fox Gustave. Playful: "Then you can be the genius inventor and I can be the trophy."
no subject
"You know I'm already obviously older than you, right?" It's probably less obvious than Gustave actually thinks, but whatever. "But I'll have to start wearing glasses full-time to really sell the 'genius inventor' thing, I think," he says, because they're canon now.
no subject
"Sexy," is half a tease and half the truth, because it turns out he's very into the whole genius-inventor-tenured-professor-librarian vibe. He does, after all, actually like the unbrushed mad scientist hair. "If you'd worn them on the Expedition, I would have tried something much sooner." This one's a full tease. Gustave's looks, librarian-coded or not, were never the issue.
no subject
But, for now at least, it feels okay to let that lie. Maybe just for a few hours.
"I really only need them when I'm tinkering," he exhales — and maybe reading, a little, too, but he's reductant to admit that for some reason. "And I didn't plan on doing much tinkering on the Continent."
no subject
He's open to suggestions, though.
"We'll have to hide you from the gestrals or they'll be all over you begging for you to build them a new Sakapatate."
no subject
"You know, I might not actually mind that," he muses. He pauses, then adds: "Know I said you didn't have to prove anything, but it's not nice to be left in limbo."
He said he loved you!!! And you left him on read!!!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
when i realize this poem is anachronistic but i commit to it anyway bc i like it
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
forgive me i died
lmao i didn't get a notif for this...
my white man yaoi is being silenced
are they the first case of yaoi heads
stop i try to forget about their giant heads
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)