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Summary
Astarion realises that he cares for Merezhen. Not even that he cares more than he should. Just in general. He's Totally Fine about it.
(My friend wanted me to call this fic 'cockhumping', so shout out to him)
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“It’s… fine. I simply… worry.”
“You say that like you’re incredibly constipated,” Merezhen noted. “Like, ‘dies on the toilet’, constipated.”
“You know, I deserve a medal for putting up with you. You have the romantic inclinations of a castrated troll.”
“You and I both know, from personal experience, that trolls can be romantic and virile.”
Astarion laughed. It was neither loud nor raucous - lest Wyll throws a shoe at their tent again. It surprised him, however. Strange to have such a turbulent gut and fluttering, terrified heart and still find it within himself to laugh.
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