A short Vernoco fic for you! Full text under the link:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows around them. Monoco sat in the violet grass, legs stretched out in front of him. Verso lay next to him, arms behind his head, quietly watching the stars. Pale streaks tracked down his dirty cheeks.
He had been broken when Monoco had found him, battered and bloody after the cataclysmic end of the Lumieran Expedition. It had been strange to see that face again, and during their travels across the Continent Monoco had swung between feeling elated and bereft. It had taken the better part of a year to find their way to the Endless Sanctuary, where they now rested among the swaying palms.
"How do you do it, Monoco? You've been here longer than me. How do you face up to all… this?" He waved his hand vaguely at the sky. They had talked many times about the canvas and his family, late at night when the darkness could hide the tears. Verso carried a deep pain inside of him and was prone to lashing out, sometimes at himself. But slowly, he seemed to be more comfortable sharing his troubles with Monoco. The gestral was still learning when he could prod him and when to be patient, lest he clam up and sulk. Tonight was one of those times.
"We are but dancing animals, Verso. And from what little I know of the Painters they are no different in their respective sphere."
Monoco felt the distance between them become palpable. He had felt the urge to close that gap before, to pull Verso into an embrace and dry his tears. With young Verso they had had the easy intimacy of youth. But that Verso had never been his, he belonged to his family, and to his own world. But this Verso was different.
"They have just one life, as do we. I know it doesn't seem that way, we are both lucky that our bodies are not as fragile as theirs," he continued.
Monoco lay down in the grass, turning towards Verso as he lowered himself onto one hip, propping himself up on one elbow. A mere forearm's length separated them, and he pulled at the grass that filled the empty space. Maybe…maybe he could be mine. And mine alone.
"But when you think about it, Verso, our lives are only as long as the existence of this canvas. One day it will crumble, or burn, or be erased. And whether from the passage of time or happenstance, our lives will end as surely as theirs does."
Monoco's heart hammered in his chest, somehow. He reached towards the human, brushing the stray strands of white hair away from his face with a graceful, wooden finger. He lingered, soaking in the warmth of his skin, feeling the faint tremor of Verso's pulse through his temple. Verso turned his head to look at him, rain grey eyes shining with fresh tears. Monoco steeled himself, but Verso didn't pull away. He held Monoco's gaze as the gestral ran his finger around the curve of his face, and settled to cup his fuzzy cheek. He curled his long, many jointed fingers into Verso's sweaty hair, and wiped away the stray tears with his thumb. They had both stopped breathing.
"So tell me, mon coeur. What will you do with your one wild, precious life here?"
Verso turned slowly onto his side, facing him, closing the gap even further. Monoco could feel the heat radiating off him in the cool night air. The faint sounds of the Sanctuary had faded away into nothing.
"I suggest you explore, and fart around a lot, and dance, and fight," he continued.
Monoco dared. He let his hand follow the outline of Verso's neck, tracing the outline of him across his shoulder, feasting on the sensation of softness under his digits. He trailed his palm over the ridges and valleys of Verso's ribs, reveling in the newness of it. He reached the dip of Verso's lithe waist and settled there. There was nothing left to lose. After all, he had already lost him once. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.
"I would like it if you would do so with me."
Verso looked up at him and swallowed, his throat bobbing. "You would?"
"I would, yes. Would you?"
Suddenly, there was no more space. Only Verso, folding into his long arms. They collapsed into one another like two stars that can no longer withstand the other's gravitational pull. Monoco wrapped himself around his human, clutching him tightly. He smelled so good, like salt and battle and wood smoke. Their feet tangled together, the smoothness of Verso's bare ankles sending a little thrill through his heartwood.
"Yes, yes, I would, M'noco."
Verso grasped at his soft mane with fine fingers and Monoco felt him shake in his arms. The tears came more freely than any night before. He held him close, stroking his bedragled black hair.
"Good." Monoco hummed at him.
Verso let out a small laugh and buried his face into Monoco's ruff. "Good."
The starlight shone down on them, and eventually the fire guttered and faded. The night brought dreamless sleep and long wished-for comfort. The morning brought new landscapes to explore, both within the canvas and between themselves. And they explored and they danced, they cried and they fought Nevrons and they fought each other. And they held on and they kissed and they farted around. A lot. They lived and they loved. Oh, how they loved.
