throwmoreswords | [ic inbox]

Surprisingly few, given my best efforts. You're welcome, by the way.

[ he's going to die insufferably smug. so smug they'll have to put it on his tombstone. he kisses the nape of Sam's neck and shifts to sit up, stretching with a quiet pop of his neck. ]

You could stay with me in my actual home, you know. It's large enough that we could go days without seeing each other. [ he'll ask Vergil for forgiveness, rather than permission. ]

Why do you think I'm mentioning them now, despite having a long-standing tradition of pretending I don't know what food poor people eat? They're delicious little piles of grease.

[ ...he lays there for a long moment. staring at gil with a confused look on his face.

okay, he knows his hearing is just fine but he's wondering if his brain got scrambled last night as gil folded him in half because he's sure he didn't hear what he just thought he heard.
He sits up a little stiffly--putting a finger in his ear and making the motion of clearing it out as he leans in. ]

...You're inviting me to come live with you?? Just like that?? Are you-- [ crazy ] Are you okay??

I mean, the idea of living in a mansion is great, but are you. Sure?

You were an acceptable roommate in our college days. Have you picked up some sort of atrocious habit that makes you a pain to live with in your dotage?

[ he says as if it's all casual, eyes lidded as Sam leans in, brushing a kiss over his nose when he's in striking distance. ]

I have an abundance of space and it's nestled in a den of devils that've never been... particularly wowed by the Black Order's doings. You'd be well protected.

...Well, nothing different from our college days, no. Sometimes I have to store items I plan on selling but I try to keep away from the illegal stuff. For the most part.

[ he doesn't sell weed anymore.
his fingers move up to brush a thumb against the line of Gil's cheek, running it down his neck to where a small series of bruises have failed to take real hold, already healing. hm. ]

I like the idea of being protected. I'd be an idiot to turn down your offer. But I need it said, that isn't why I did this.
I'd go back to living in my halfway houses for a while if it meant proving my sincerity about this.

Whole thing.

You.

[ weed is barely illegal anymore ]

Then if you have the same amenable demeanor and interesting goings on, there's hardly a problem, is there?

[ and then Sam has to make it sincere, and Gilgamesh does nothing by halves. he leans into the hand on his face, his neck, and closes an eye as the other man moves falteringly through his thoughts, offers his sincerity on bent knee, and he just... laughs. a humming, soft thing, as if Sam's not seeing the obvious answer. ]

Samuel. [ soft, almost gentle, shifting to lay back with him, turning the full heaviness of his red-eyed gaze on the other man, like a serpent that means to pin its prey down under the weight of its presence alone. ]

If you want to make it a matter of 'fair'--of 'earning' back my trust and affection, that would logistically take years. Years of me keeping you at arms length, of punishing you for not listening to me--and it'd be years of me keeping myself closed off and alone waiting for you to 'earn' my affections again.

I've already lost fifteen years with you. What sense is there in watching you flagellate for another fifteen? What do I gain? There's no justice in an eye for an eye--only bitter retribution. It's a bad deal, Sammy.

I don't need to hang you in the past's noose or choke you with your transgression's collar. If I had my choice of things, I'd rather be your friend than your jailer, and your lover above that. Everyone will say I'm foolish and making a rash decision, but. [ a shrug. ] It's easy to tell other people to burn down their bridges when you'll never cross them.

[ it was hard to be sincere when you have the world's most self-interested joke living in your brain. it hated serious shit, but--everything about this situation was hilarious to the being, for now. Like some sort of insane sitcom-romcom that it couldn't get enough of.

It's so fortunate for him that it found it funny.
He finds himself trying to look away from Gil's eyes as the man lays out a heavy, over-affectionate truth. It's been so long since he had someone who sincerely cared about him that this is. Dizzying. startling. Wonderful? terrifying. heart-scouring. warm, hilarious--there's too many emotions and its making his head want to explode.

He finds himself curling in and hiding his face in against gil's neck as he's held.

Maybe his hunger can wait.
Maybe he can just stay here, and sink into the other a little furthur. Like a terrible barnacle. ]

I've missed hearing you call me Sammy.

[ the wetness on gil's neck is from his mouth and lips and nothing else. ]

[ and like any other god, if the Laughter tried to enforce anything resembling its will or desires over Gilgamesh, he would spite it just to do so

so he forges on in his absolutism, laying down his truth with no fear or apprehension, his heart laid bare and his words raw and unfettered. Sam seems--frozen, like a mouse caught before a viper, and Gilgamesh watches him dispassionately, letting him internally writhe, staying still when Sam finally breaks his spell to dive in against Gil.

he gives a low hum, wrapping an arm around him as he curls up, paying no mind to the wetness on his neck, lips finding the top of Sam's head and pressing an affectionate little kiss there. ]

... I've missed you. More than I've ever admitted to myself.

[ic inbox] - Kaisou

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