throwmoreswords | [ic inbox]

[ sometime After this conversation, Sampo's going to eventually find his way home--...to Gil's home, and wander around a bit.
The man's probably locked into work on his laptop and in 7 different meetings at once, so

he takes his time, he gets a drink to calm his nerves, he eats some cheese and fruit from Gil's fridge that definitely costs more than what it's worth, and after putting some of said cheese and fruit on a plate, he's going to go sneak into wherever gil is hiding in his massive teapot house.

if he's in a meeting, he'll linger outside for a bit until it seems to be over, but. If the king is silent--or soon becomes silent--he's going to sneak his way over and crawl into his lap.
Pushing his laptop out of it like he's some big cat, and not actually some six foot tall man with big shoulders who really has no business doing this sort of thing.

here. he brought cheese and fruit. peace offering, don't be mad. ]

[ Gil's voice is a pleasant murmur from the second floor of the teapot manor--he's doing a rather passable back and forth in French, actually, his regular bold tone of voice only occasionally broken by searching for a word, or considering a turn of phrase, so Sam will have plenty of time to mull over what he wants--to splash some water on his face, have a glass of wine, eat cheese acquired by dubious means.

by the time the Fool plucks his courage up and makes his way upstairs, peace offering in hand, Gil will be back to simply typing, his headset pushed to the side as he glances up at Sam's entrance, gives him a pleased little crook of his lips, and continues with what he's working on

it seems to be a pleasant collection of sounds--the quiet pieces of domesticity--until Sampo mounts the bed and slowly wages a campaign against Gil's lap desk, and Gil, ever willing to let him cook, watches it happen as Sam slowly edges some several thousand dollar piece of technology softly and slowly off to the side, replacing its presence with himself.

he probably could've held onto the computer a little firmer, if it mattered, but for now his fingers rest on the home keys on Sampo's chest, eyebrow firmly cocked as he considers the man in his lap. ]

I feel like there's a message you're trying to send me.

[ He doesn't want to think about the price of the laptop. truth be told, the thing probably costs more than the money he himself had made in the last three months, and its the only reason why he didn't simply reach out to close it and toss it aside despite how FUNNY it might have been.

No, here he is, curled on gil's lap on his bed, and he's lifting up the proffered offering of sliced cheeses and halved strawberries and grapes like it's seriously some sort of peace offering. ]

[ don't be mad ]

If I had a message to send, surely I'd have done it in an email or text message, right? Maybe a guy just wants some quality head-petting time.
It's definitely, 100% not weird for a man to want to be comfortable for five minutes.

[ he's so fine ]

[ it's not anger that's registering in Gil's mien, truth be told--more a sort of. confused bemusement. his head is just slightly cocked, like a cat trying to figure out something weird outside the window, a little grin crooked on his lips as Sampo waves his snacks like a white flag. ]

Why are you wielding fruits and cheese like I'm a lion and you're a beef shank in a trenchcoat trying to seek passage across the border?

[ sometimes you see the dance a man wants to take you on and sidestep him entirely because it's funnier to see him go off the balcony.

... and almost as a gesture of mollification, he leans down to catch one of the strawberry halves with his teeth, delicately flicking it into his own mouth with the kind of tongue deftness usually reserved for the tying of cherry-stem knots. ]

Because you are a lion and I am a beef shank, and you know it. [ he can say this with such a plain face because of who he is and how comfortable he is with the man; and because, you know, gil is here making mouth motions at him that he KNOWS the man is fully aware of

what he's doing

and it's making the oddly pensive look on sampo's face curl into something else
something... almost warm, amused
that little bit of joy that Gilgamesh always brings coming forward as he's reminded exactly why he likes being in the company with this ridiculous golden creature.

He can't help but to chuckle. ]

Usually, when I'm about to have a heavy conversation with Hua Cheng, we usually do it over a plate of expensive food because something like--good food makes uncomfortable conversation palatable, or something like that.

As long as you know it, I'm content. [ there's probably a joke to be made here about Sampo being a snack, but Gilgamesh lets it go in favor of really getting to look at Sam

considering him with his fingers relaxing, stretching out on the man's chest to rest there, eyes lidded as he takes in the tension still very present in Sam's face, his eyes--he's calmed, but that doesn't make him calm. ]

A heavy conversation, is it? Whatever could be on your mind that would make words hard for a man that plays with them like they're clay in his hands? [ he takes a moment, letting his expression grow serious, cupping Sampo's cheek as he considers the Fool and his pacification measures. there's no way he could begin to guess what's got Sam's back against the wall so.

so he doesn't try. ]

So the baby's not mine, I take it.

[ ...The silence in his head is blessed. he knew he should have come sooner, instead of idling with the headache of those bells and whistles just behind his eyes for the last hour or more.

because as he lays out on gils lap, the man cracks a joke at him that is so out of nowhere, with such sharp wit and humor layered over it despite how Sampo is clearly trying to bring up a serious conversation with him--it makes Sam's shoulders shake as he quietly lays the cheese plate on gils lap desk alongside his laptop as he allows himself to fully go into that peal of laughter, a hand wiping an actual tear of amusement from his eye. ]

The baby's not yours. I know this might be the bump in the track thar comes between us--

[ he can't do it. he's gonna cackle a little more as he hides his face in against gils thigh with a wheeze. ]

I might be free from the Black Order.

[ and for a moment, Gilgamesh just basks in the pleasure of Sampo's laughter--of watching the tension shake from the man in his raucous laughter, shifting to settle into more of a sprawl as the man gives up on having bones and puts his cheese plate on top of Gil's expensive laptop, audacious as anything.

he smirks, letting his hand rest on the back of Sampo's head as the man finally blurts at least some of his problem, letting that sudden rush of freedom swing between the pair of them, letting it have the levity it deserved.

and then he's going for it from the top rope with a steel chair. ]

I suppose making a cuckold of me is a fair enough trade for your peace of mind; was it at least one of the handsome ones? It'll be easier to pass the babe as my child if it's at least got facial symmetry and a regular amount of eyes.

[ as he strokes his fingers through Sampo's hair, letting his nails drag lightly over his scalp. ]

Edited 2024-06-20 04:35 (UTC)

[ ...and because gil KEEPS GOING on the bit, Sampo's not going to have but a minute to let go of the laughter that's getting his ribs shaking.

He was stupid for being worried about talking about all of this, of course Gil was going to take it easily, and with amusement... ]

Venti and Zhongli. From what I've been told, they're gods. And I very much believe in 'gods' in human skin, before you ask--I've been to enough worlds and seen enough things to be convinced of something like that, no problem.

...

And both of them are very pretty if you ask me, so don't worry. Symmetry is preserved!

[ don't mind if he just
curls in a little towards that hand that's offering even the barest amount of comfort. he doesn't super need it rn or anything. ]

[ and he is terribly pleased with himself as Sampo wheezes his way to being able to speak again, running his fingers through the man's hair at a lazy, back and forth pace.

Sampo manages words, finally, and Gil listens attentively--eyes glinting when the names come up, smirk still not having left his lips. as if this whole admission is just... easy. correct. how it should be. as if Sampo hasn't rolled his boulder up the hill and gotten it to stick somehow. ]

Ah, I'm familiar with Mr. Zhongli. He's like a father to Vergil. [ ... and his expression flicks towards wicked again, as he shifts to roll them--to put Sampo beneath him and stretch out on him like the great cat he'd already been compared to, companionably boxing Sam in with his arms. ]

You know, the tyrant king of the Epic was said to be two-thirds god himself. Some people speculate that since his father, Lugalbanda, was elevated to godhood to be worthy of the goddess of wild cows, Ninsun, it made Gilgamesh only a third human--others say that Anu had a hand in Gilgamesh's conception, and therefore, since the man was born of two gods and a human, he was two-thirds god, one third human.

[ it's an easy way to flex that you could be divine yourself, if you so cared for it--but Gilgamesh doesn't. he has no stake in gods, divinity, or a power greater than himself. ]

So congratulations on bringing another freak baby into the world. Hopefully they have your sense for money, and not Mr. Zhongli's.

[ic inbox] - Kaisou

action; sometime in early june

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject