the sound of waves

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"You know what one of my favorite things is?" Lancer asks, looking up at Gilgamesh from his spot on the floor. It is another summer day, nowhere near as painfully humid as some of the others have been. There is a large shell in his hand, something he snagged while fishing, and he is turning it about as though it is some sort of jewel.

"No," Gilgamesh replies, not showing interest with a question but allowing space for the dog to continue. He does.

"The sound of waves, when you put a seashell to your ear." Lancer grins.

Gilgamesh smiles slightly, amused. Such a simple and childish joy, and yet it does not seem out of place for him. He studies the shell, its ridges and curves as it coils in on itself, spiking out along its edges. Sea creatures certainly knew how to adorn themselves- survival was not a fool's game, and aquatic life had turned protective measures into an art.

"It is not waves, Lancer." he informs the man, leaning back on his arms. "You can hear the same sound if you cup your hands over your ears- it's the sound of blood rushing, bounding back from the inside of the shell." A smirk tugs at his lips at his eyes the tie-dyed man. He doesn't wear his armor around the house as much as he used to, and though he pretends he does not notice, he does. "Surely even you should know that a single shell could not contain its own ocean." He cannot help but smirk. He expects Lancer to scowl, and he does, but it is not one of disappointment and surrender.

"What makes you say that?" he asks, tossing the shell at him. Gilgamesh catches it, instinctively. It is rough against his hands, crannies created by years of rolling in the sands, its insides pearly smooth. "You can summon forth an infinite chain from a bunch of floating portals. We were brought here by a cup. You aren't in any position to be saying what is and isn't possible."

"There are simple explanations for those," Gilgamesh retorts, but Lancer cuts him off, a mischievous glint in his dark red eyes.

"Yeah, magic. There's an infinite amount of realities out there, right?"

"Are you implying that this shell holds an alternate reality within it?" Gilgamesh scoffs- he snorts, actually, but he tries to pass it off as a scoff. Lancer smiles coyly, reaching back for the shell- a simple thing but a treasure in its own right, if its value was weighed by sentiment -he tosses it once more, before placing it on the ground.

"Sure. At least, for the crab that was living in it."

Gilgamesh blinks. Lancer's gaze is unshakeable, a shimmer of pride dancing through his irises, disguised as shifting light. He could easily argue the inaneness that was Lancer's point, but he can't bring himself to. The dog has a point. Stranger things have existed than an ocean in a shell, and stranger things exist even still. Who is he to dispute such a thing?

Lancer is a simple man, but even in that simplicity, he can still see the world for all it is worth. It is a different set of lenses and a different sort of clarity than that which Gilgamesh views life through, but a view nonetheless.

He's missed being able to talk like this. He lives for the thrill and loves a good debate, but sometimes it is nice just to converse.

With a soft chuckle, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the edge of Lancer's mouth. He looks up, almost startled, warmth emanating from his face as Gilgamesh pulls away.

"What was that for?" he asks, hesitant, as though expecting some follow-up attack of a harsher nature. Gilgamesh smiles gently, though his eyes are still narrowed in a playful manner.

"Nothing, I was just struck with the whim and decided to follow it." He shrugs his actions away, a long slow blink conveying his lack of concern. When he opens his eyes, Lancer is there, still warm, returning the favor. Gilgamesh allows it, as Lancer cups his face in his hands, waves rolling softly in his ears. His eyes close, and he lets the sea swallow them both.