#restave

"No? He hasn't?"

Sophie glanced up at him before turning her attention to the other sleeve. "I just find it hard to believe. You've been together for… a month now? Officially, that is."

"He usually comes by my workshop to visit—"

"Ah, so he's only ever seen you covered in grease, hair a mess, and your shirt only partially buttoned?" Her expression grew teasing then, and Gustave could only dip his head and laugh: Sophie was… unfortunately very accurate in her assessment. "Still, did you really need to get a new suit for your first date with him?"

"It… seemed suiting." He opened his mouth and then shut it again at that unintentional pun. "New beginnings, you know? I just felt like after—"

After their own relationship fell apart. After Gustave found friendship in a former enemy. After affection blossomed anew in his chest.

Sophie came to stand before him, planting her hands against his shoulders. "I'm happy for you," she said, a sense of finality in her voice that settled something in Gustave's gut, something that had been churning the entire time he'd been growing this… relationship with one Renoir Dessendre. Sophie carefully adjusted his tie, like she used to before, and automatically, Gustave tilted his chin up to make it easier for her to work. "You deserve happiness."

"Soph…"

"You do." Her smile softened at the edges. "I also hope you'll tell me more about Monsieur Dessendre when you have a chance" —Sophie swept behind Gustave and peered over his shoulder— "and what he thinks of my work."

He chuckled softly and nodded, wringing his hands. "Right…"

Sophie touched his elbow and then headed toward the front of her shop. "Take one more look at yourself in the mirror, but don't linger too long." She paused briefly to glance at him again. "I won't be used as an excuse for being late."

"I know—I… I know."

And so, Gustave looked at himself in the mirror. Really looked at himself.

Clad in a dark green jacket and slacks, he could already hear Sciel saying something about how it would bring out the flecks of said green from his eyes, and Sophie had paired it with a brown waistcoat and a tie that matched the suit itself. His hair could still use a bit of taming, but that battle was often a lost one, especially if the breeze from earlier was still about.

Even so, Gustave had to say that he looked good—perhaps aside from the nervous look that he wore upon his face. He tried on a few different smiles in the mirror before sighing quietly and rubbing at the back of his neck.

He'd chosen the color green as a nod to new beginnings. For himself. For Renoir.

For the two of them together.

Gustave just hoped that he wouldn't fuck things up on their first actual date.

Right.

Straightening his shoulders, Gustave nodded at his reflection and then marched out to the front of Sophie's shop. She was already speaking to another customer, though she did shoot him a brief smile before returning to her task. For his part, he gave her a small nod and then stepped out into the streets of Lumière.

It was a fine spring day with just a hint of chill from a cool breeze coming off of the sea. The sun wasn't setting just yet, and he and Renoir had agreed to a stroll around the gardens before dinner together. Renoir had insisted upon a… laid-back outing, almost as if he were worried that Gustave would flee at the first sign of anything remotely serious between them, and said worry was warranted at the time: Gustave had frozen like a scared animal in his workshop when Renoir had first brought it up.

They were, he knew, an odd pair: a victim and his murderer.

Perhaps it was that very oddness that drew them together though?

Renoir's first words to Gustave upon being repainted into Lumière were a heartfelt apology, and there was a genuineness about his speech and actions that… spoke to Gustave, made him listen and not write him off immediately, as he originally thought he would. Gustave was a stubborn man, yes, but he could be sensible. He might also have a bit of a weakness for individuals who could regale him with tales of times long past and technologies all but forgotten and buried.

But truly, the man had done his part and proved to Gustave a thousand times over that he was earnest and genuine in his desire to court him.

When Renoir handed him a book on the engineering of trains from before the Fracture as a sign of his affection, Gustave had, perhaps, felt his heart did a little awkward flip inside of his chest. The rose that had accompanied it was nice, too.

And now, he was going on a date with Renoir Dessendre. His first date in years.

The man was standing just outside of the entrance to the gardens, hands resting upon the handle of his cane. Gustave could not help but notice the clench of his jaw and the way that he would shift his weight from one foot to the other: Renoir was every bit as nervous as he was.

When the man noticed Gustave approaching though, the relief upon his countenance was palpable, and somehow, that made the twist in Gustave's gut loosen, made the worry ease just a little bit. Pale eyes took him in from head to toe, and then Renoir smiled, appreciative; Gustave could feel his gaze sweeping over him like a caress.

"Good afternoon, mon beau."

The compliment wrapped up in the form of a sweet endearment drew a flush to Gustave's cheeks.

"I… hope I haven't kept you waiting?"

Renoir offered his arm to him, which Gustave happily took.

Since that moment, Renoir has spent his recovered months in the shadows of the town he’d once proudly called home - but that memory of himself feels like another man altogether. What is he now? Who is he now, without a mission, without a home, without his wife, without the family he sacrificed everything for?

But his son is here, barely speaking to him, barely speaking to anyone. There’s nowhere else for Renoir to go.

Approaching the rooftop garden during the day feels like a transgression in itself. His weight rests heavily on his cane as he walks, old pains bothering him more now that there’s no reason to push them away. The painted-in aches have learned how to make themselves inescapable.

The sun is bright and the garden is a private oasis away from the celebration of the city. Renoir expects to be alone - and he hesitates, therefore, when he finds someone else up here.

The quiet man in the garden doesn’t appear to have noticed him yet. He’s bent over to tend to the red flowers, his hands careful and diligent in their work.

Any Lumierian would be troublesome enough; Renoir keeps out of their way when he can, well aware that he’s nothing but a figure from their nightmares and a reminder of a darker, more dangerous world.

But this is no random Lumierian.

This is The Brother.

Half-hidden in gloom, Renoir watches the face of a man he remembers covered in blood. He watches careful hands tend to the plant when he remembers how they once looked clutching desperately to their weapons and fighting for survival.

The man - Gustave, he remembers, while he wishes he didn’t - sighs, and an unwanted memory flutters through Renoir’s mind.

In the darkest corners of his thoughts, he remembers what this young man’s last breath had sounded like.

His hand tightens on his cane. He can’t say that he regrets what he did, any of it, all for the love of his family - but facing down the very man he slaughtered, that’s one cruelty too many. That’s too much for either of them to take.

“You know,” Gustave chimes up as Renoir prepares to make his exit. Gustave doesn’t look up from his flowers. “If you’re here to help, I need someone to weed that bed over there.”

He hikes a metal thumb towards a forgotten flower-bed near Renoir: half in shade, it’s strangled with weeds. Neglected and forgotten, Renoir isn’t sure if he can even see a single real flower in there. Thoughtfully, he nudges the bed with his foot, and then looks back at the young man in his garden.

Gustave’s jaw is clenched. He’s breathing through his nose, slow and steady, only betrayed by the occasional, accidental gasp for air. On the surface, he’s the perfect vision of calm.

Renoir wonders how far down the true panic goes.

He looks at the weeds, then he looks at the kneeling man trying his best to tend his garden.

“There’s a lot of work to be done,” he observes.

Finally, Gustave looks up at him. There’s something steady in his eyes, something that’s as resigned as it is scared.

“Then we do the work,” Gustave says. “It only gets worse if you let it grow.”

There’s nothing here but empty metaphors and careful figures of speech.

Renoir holds his gaze. Moments pass. He could say he’s sorry, he knows. He could stand here and allow the excuses to flow: reasoning and explanations and apologies, every single one overlapping the next, and not a single one would change the fundamental facts. He killed this young man and he’d do it all over again in the same circumstances - and yet here they both are, in the same sun-soaked garden.

He’s the first one to break eye contact, lowering his gaze and feeling his grip on his cane only tighten.

“Let’s get to work,” Gustave murmurs, returning his attention to his own flower bed as if there’s nothing more to say.

It’s a large garden. The list of chores is endless. The work to be done will be hard and unforgiving.

I tend to imagine them enjoying existing in one another's space, maybe co-creating. The pair of them sitting down on one of the benches on the harbour, Gustave leaning against Verso as he's writing in his journal while Verso is scribbling half-planned notes for a composition (or knitting, since I've recently tormented you with my head-canon that Verso learns to knit in Lumiere.) No pressure, no need to talk, no threats, no world-ending-chaos. Just the pair of them and some peaceful silence.

19.1 An ideal free day for them would look like? What are they doing on that day? (there are technically two question 19s, but someone else asked about 19.2 so I'm doing 19.1 here)

Coffee and pastries together on their balcony for breakfast; visiting friends during the morning; duelling with Monoco in the afternoon; back to Lumiere for a romantic dinner date in the evening, both of them trying to spoil the other. Finishing the day with embarrassingly sappy sex.

20. Who likes public displays of affection more?

I think they come far more naturally to Gustave and that he'll do them absent-mindedly, but once something clicks for Verso he's obsessed. He wants to be holding hands whenever he can, he wants to kiss Gustave's cheek even if he's just leaving the room for a second, he wants to basically have some form of contact between them at all times.

22. A headcanon you have for this ship?

I think that Verso read every page of Gustave's journal after he died and before he brought it back to Maelle. I think he read it and another part of him just died over what he'd done, or what he hadn't done (and then when Gustave gets brought back through whatever handwavey method you'd like, Verso's already fallen for him quite a bit through his words alone.)

23. Describe this ship in the most out of context way that you can.

Murder victim falls for murder enabler.

25. Who steals their partner's clothes in the relationship?

BOTH. I may have written a whole-ass fic about it because I am weak for this trope. I choose to believe that they share a wardrobe. And also that Verso absolutely tries to get Gustave to borrow his clothes because he just likes the look of him in them.

Restave

2. Favorite thing about this ship?

There's a moment in Stone Wave Cliffs where Gustave says: "Why are you doing this? We’ve done nothing to you. We should be on the same side," and for me that's the whole crux of the fascination of this pairing. I am fascinated by both characters separately - they're both principled, they're both dangerous, they're both stubborn - and while Painted Renoir is one of the game's antagonists I don't think he's in any way a villain.

There's such an allure for me in the idea of scenarios in which the pair of them have to interact in a way that doesn't leave one of them dead, because I genuinely think that there's scope for them to hugely respect one another.

4. How do you see this ship? Examples: "totally married", "besties who date sometimes for fun", "toxic exes that definitely shouldn't be 10 feet near each other".

My favourite setting to think about for them is some kind of post-game scenario where they've both been resurrected - in which case we're looking at some kind of "guilty situationship that might develop feelings in the long run".

8. If this ship were animals (if they're not already), what animals would they be?

Gustave is very dog-coded to me: he's the scrappy dog with a missing leg that will come for you if you mess with any of the other dogs it's adopted into its family. Renoir, on the other hand, in my head is linked with lions because of his majestic summons.

So I guess for Renoir I have an enormous chromatic lion cuddling up with a scrappy stray dog.

18. If this ship was a dessert, what kind of dessert would they be?

Lemon meringue pie: sharp/bitter at the core, covered with something light and fluffy, then gently and painfully toasted on top.

22. A headcanon you have for this ship?

If Renoir had actually talked to Gustave at Stone Wave Cliffs, he could have talked Gustave into joining them if he'd managed to persuade him that it was for Maelle's safety.

25. Who steals their partner's clothes in the relationship?

Oh no. Renoir just buys Gustave's clothes for him. No need for anyone to steal anything, and Renoir's going to make sure Gustave's very well-dressed.

Lucien/Gustave

11. Who's the big spoon? Who's the little spoon? Do they switch it up?

My anti-spooning agenda arrives when I say neither. I think they would probably switch it up. I bet they also fall asleep holding hands, like sappy nerds.

17. What are the colors of this ship and do you like them together?

In my head I have grey, gold and purple, the Expedition colours for an Expedition couple. Obviously stylish.

21. What would be some pet names they would give each other?

Lucien canonically refers to Gustave (and Catherine) as "les amis!" Casually friend-zoning himself.

He also calls Gustave "you weirdo", which actually fits in with my friends-to-lovers headcanon for them - I feel like they've known each other for so long and have fully grown up together, to the point that affection for them actually comes in the form of teasing and playing around.

22. A headcanon you have for this ship?

I think they've both had a crush on each other for years - and this is my head canon for Gustave even when I have him in other ships, actually. Growing up yearning, pining and wistfully sighing over each other, while always assuming it was unrequited so nothing ever actually happened between them until it was too late ("until it was too late" may mean that the night before the Expedition took off they finally made their first confessions to each other after all those years.)

25. Who steals their partner's clothes in the relationship?