superniceone | tfln overflow / open post

"Really?" she asks, looking perplexed. "Hmm." A moment of thought, and then she pats Gustave on the shoulder. "I think you've had a little too much to drink, you wild child."

She opens her mouth to continue, but then— "Monoco!" To Gustave: "Sorry, I need to deal with this." Calling out again, as she rushes over: "You're going to take someone's head off!" Probably Verso's, though, so they can just stick it back on.

Monoco, in argument, says, "It would be a warrior's death."

"No, it's fine," he says, waving her off. Gustave isn't actually upset - just drunk and a little antsy. He doesn't mind this, though, the (relative) peace of their camp.

God. He's never going to be able to look Verso in the eyes again, is he? That's a realization to have, and he settles himself by just watching the good-natured chaos.

Sciel and Monoco quibble over the scythe a bit while Verso looks on—"Oh, I'm not getting involved"—before the night finally winds down. A surreptitious check to make sure Maelle is sleeping soundly, and Verso lies down for his own sleep, only glancing across the fire at Gustave once.

Then, once day breaks and Maelle insists, "Get up, you lazy drunks," there's not really much opportunity to connect with Gustave and make sure he isn't absolutely traumatized by the drunken events of the night prior. Lune rubs a hand over her eyes, bemoaning the hangover. Honestly, Verso feels great—immune to all poisons, apparently, including the alcoholic type—and Monoco even comments on it, saying with a tone of suspicion, "Why are you in a good mood?"

"I'm always in a good mood," he argues back, even though they both know that's not true.

It's not until midway through the day, when they've taken a brief break in journeying, that Verso speaks to Gustave at all. "Hey," he says, holding out a waterskin.

It's not really the mutual masturbation that Gustave spends most of their (thankfully mild) morning hike dwelling on, or at least not that by itself. It's the memory of fondling Verso's wrist, the still-hungry way he'd kissed him when he was working him over in his hand - the conversation with Sciel after that, of which he really has no idea if it was actually innuendo filled or not.

Despite the hangover, the morning goes quick, and he takes that waterskin with only a brief glance at Verso's face. "Hey." A pause, and then: "You alright?" God, he didn't need more help being awkward.

"Great." The way Gustave barely looks him in the eye suggests that maybe Verso is the only one whose mood was improved by an orgasm, so he quickly corrects, "Just good."

The vibe of this conversation is painfully uncomfortable, and it really shouldn't be. There's nothing weird about blowing off a little steam together. ...Admittedly, there were some weird moments, but he's choosing not to dwell on those.

So, in a horrifically blunt attempt to lighten the mood: "Traumatized, actually. I got taken advantage of last night."

Gustave's head snaps up at that, and he's horrified for just a split second before it realizes that Verso is not being serious, actually. "Merde," he whispers, taking a drink and holding the skin back out to him.

"I assume you're referring to the fact that we robbed you of all of your wine," he says after a moment, and - well, he's slightly exasperated, but at least he's looking at him again.

"Yeah," Verso says with a grin. This is better. More comfortable. He takes the waterskin back, corking it and asking, slyly, "What else would I be referring to?"

The grin is both endearing and absolutely infuriating. "Couldn't tell you. Think I was a bit discombobulated after our- what did Sciel call it?" Gustave stares at him, and then deadpans, "Tussle. Right. She said she could tell I lost the fight."

He can't quite tell if having described it as a tussle irritates Gustave or not. He had told Verso to say whatever he wanted, and he'd assumed that Gustave wouldn't want him to share what actually happened. It was really the only reasonable explanation for why they had looked as if they were rolling around on the ground. Gustave had pretended he didn't mind if everyone knew the truth, but Verso, as always, knew better and made the decision for him.

"It discombobulated you, did it?" His voice is light, teasing, although there's a slight probing nature to the question, an attempt to figure out Gustave's thoughts.

If pressed, Gustave wouldn't be able to explain, exactly, just what had him rankled. Objectively, he's not ashamed; he knows that Verso was as enthusiastically willing as he was, and seemed to enjoy himself just as much.

Maybe he just didn't want to admit his own loneliness to himself, or maybe it just felt like weakness, admitting he was still beholden to such extremely base desires when they were marching toward the Paintress.

Or maybe it just felt guilty in the way any boy would, hooking up in potential hearing range of the rest of his family.

"Think so. Or it could just be the hangover, I reckon." He flexes his hand, busies himself by stretching his wrist, before he adds more quietly: "I'm fine."

"Okay," is all he has to say for a moment, because he's not sure how he's actually supposed to take that. A quiet little I'm fine like he maybe isn't totally. Verso probably should've tried harder to turn him down. "I'm fine, too." Not that anyone asked.

Feel like doing some more community service later? probably isn't going to fly, so instead he says, "Good talk. I've got to go... trim Monoco's fur."

Not really, although maybe he should. It's looking unruly.

"No, wait." It comes with a grimace, one that's fully at himself, not at Verso. "I realise I'm not doing a great job of it, but I'm trying to act casual."

He clears his throat, tries again. "I am actually. Great. As well. Since you were asking."

Gustave admits that he's trying to be casual, and Verso tries to suppress a look of horror. This is the least casual anyone has ever been, ever. A moment of silent realization passes, and then he takes the burden on himself to make this casual.

"Great." Aggressively not awkward despite his feelings to the contrary; he injects as much dry humor into the word as he can manage. Then, with a hand over his heart: "It, uh, feels good to service the community."

Gustave fixes him with a slightly bewildered look at the phrasing, before his own look of utter horror arrives. He swears under his breath and groans, pressing his closed eyelids hard with the pads of his thumb and index finger.

How had that worked? How had he gotten laid, literally ever?

"I said that, didn't I." His voice is miserable; his shoulders are trembling with barely-suppressed laughter. "I used those words."

This feels better. For one of them, at least — maybe not Gustave. But it feels as if perhaps some of the tension is broken, and now it can be, as he'd said, casual.

"It's possible." He smiles, a menace. "Hard to remember. Think I was discombobulated after all the... impolite things."

He shakes his head from side to side, trying to be subtle about checking to see how easily they might be overheard. "I gave you ample opportunity to go find company with someone who- who can have a normal conversation," he says, but the defensiveness is still amused.

"Yeah," he agrees.

If Gustave hasn't figured out by now that he only pulls on those metaphorical pigtails because the awkwardness is strangely charming, he never will. It's very earnest, very real, qualities Verso isn't particularly familiar with himself. It's a nice change of pace.

"Normal conversation is overrated."

Gustave doesn't ascribe any malice to it, but he mostly just assumes that it's because he makes the easiest target. (It's easier to recognise it as good-natured after the night before. Verso could be glib, sure, but he was undeniably careful with Gustave when he didn't have to be.)

"Suppose 'normal' gets harder and harder to define these days." He actually looks at him then, the strange anxiety almost entirely gone now. "I- really, though. You're alright?"

That really makes him laugh. "Traumatized, remember?" The question is light, amused. He's in no way damaged by a casual handjob from possibly the world's most non-threatening person. It was casual. It's still casual, even if Gustave seems incapable of acting so.

"...I wouldn't mind doing some more community service," he adds, broaching, "for the right cause."

Maybe just the continent's least threatening person. He's way scarier than at least most of the children back in Lumiere. The statement gives him pause then, like he's briefly unsure if he's being made fun of, before he clears his throat and straightens his posture unconsciously.

"It's good of you to give back," he says finally, eyebrows up, and then adds - a little pitiful: "But we might have to think of a more believable excuse."

It's not a no, so he'll take it. But: "I thought I could tell them whatever I wanted." It's only teasing, though; Gustave had looked like he had just lost a fight, but Verso doesn't particularly want to repeat that excuse. They're going to think he's beating up on Gustave every chance he gets.

Not that he's trying to do this every chance he gets. Just, you know. It's a good way to pass the time. Almost makes one forget about his bucket loads of existential grief for a second.

"Tell them whatever you want."

Gustave chews on that for a moment, though he doesn't seem particularly thrilled about the conclusion he comes to. "We should be honest if we're going to- do that sort of thing," he says, stumbling around real description a bit. If only for practical reasons; sneaking off alone could get dangerous, and quickly. (Who knows when Renoir is going to just appear again, after all.)

He tilts his head slightly at Verso, brow furrowed in thought. "... I want to say something else, too, but I'm not yet sure if it'd be relevant or just slightly offensive."

Verso doesn't really believe 'being honest' about the fact that they're sticking their hands down each other's pants is the right idea, but he rarely thinks being honest about anything is. It's no skin off his back, but it does sort of put a damper on any relationship Gustave might try to pursue. Makes it all a little weird and complicated.

But, again, that's not his problem, so he lets it pass by, placing his hands on his hips as he stares warily. "Oh, good. I love irrelevant, offensive things."

Gustave isn't proposing that they go into detail - he's not sure his heart could take it - but Lune and Sciel are smart. They'd understand with a little implication.

But, funnily enough, his thoughts aren't too far from Verso's. "If you've got your hopes set on fraternization with anyone else, this might kill your chances. Worth having a think about, at least."

They should probably stop calling it fraternization, but he can't exactly think of something better that won't make Gustave turn as red as a tomato, so—

"What, you aren't going to talk me up?" A joke. He's pretty sure Gustave would rather die.

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