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If it were up to Gale, he would be putting as much distance between Lae’zel and Shadowheart as possible. The back and forth that they had formed at one point appeared to be heading in a direction of a strange, camaraderie rivalry, but out of seemingly no where had vaulted itself in the opposite direction. They appeared to genuinely dislike each other. Sometimes with the faces that Shadowheart would pull while Astarion spoke to her, the pair of them looking over to Lae’zel as they did, Gale wondered if that dislike wasn’t a little too close to hate.
But it was not up to Gale. They seemed to have all fallen in line behind Wyll. None of them had much experience in leadership, but Wyll seemed to actually know how to handle troops, or at least had enough charisma and sense to make it up on the spot, even with the devilish appearance.
In Wyll’s expert opinion, Shadowheart and Lae’zel just needed to find some common ground. He made a fair point, Gale supposed, in that it would be easier if the pair of them got on. Especially given that their hunt for a cure seemed to be taking considerably longer than any of them would have liked.
“They both have a common goal,” Wyll had said to him as they set up their tents side by side. “They just need to share common interests. Common ground. Learn about each other’s positives despite their flaws and differences.”
“Your unending enthusiasm is inspiring, truly. I can only hope that you efforts are not in vain.”
“I’m hoping that Karlach may be able to act as a sort of mediator between them. Neither of them seem opposed to her.”
“She is the only one of us tough enough to be willing to put herself in the middle.”
Wyll laughed, something fond and appreciative. Gale paused in adjusting his telescope to spin to face Wyll with a frown.
“Wait, does that mean you intend for me to stay behind tomorrow? With Astarion?”
He had a feeling that, despite the fact he traveled with Wyll a considerable amount since they joined up on the hunt for a cure, he and Astarion were both about to find themselves staying watch at camp a whole lot more.
Karlach was pleased at least. The next morning when the plan was announced she gestured wide with both arms and a wide smile on her face, asking Lae’zel and Shadowheart who was ready to knock some goblin heads together. Lae’zel specifically asked that if it meant they were finally going to her crèche. Wyll said it would be a good idea to make tracks to see if they could be found.
Gale and Astarion were stood side by side as they watched, with Shadowheart close to them.
“He cannot be serious,” she muttered. “We’re actually going to pursue that line of thought?”
Astarion snorted. “You have spent days complaining about being stuck at camp with her, and now you’re complaining at going out?”
“At least when I’m at camp I can ignore her, for the most part. It won’t be so easy when I’m forced to walk by her side.”
“Think of it this way,” Gale started with a smile. “At least if you’re there while she takes us to her crèche you’ll be able to provide some kind of pragmatism to Wyll’s point of view. I imagine Karlach would be all too willing to go along with it.”
Shadowheart gave a long suffering sigh. “I hate it when you make sense. I feel like it is never in my favour. Very well, I’ll go and keep an eye on her.”
She finally took her eyes away from the trio preparing to leave to meet Gale’s gaze. There was something uncertain in her expression. A twist of her brow as her round eyes searched his face.
“If…you are here keeping watch on camp, does that mean…you will be cooking for us, also?”
Gale raised his brows at the question. “I suppose so, yes. Not that I don’t frequently.”
“Yes, but if you have the whole day to prepare…”
“If there’s something specific you would like, you need but ask, Shadowheart. I’m more than happy for you to put my skills to the test.”
She seemed a little more confident to ask after that. There had been a day, early on, when Lae’zel first joined them that Gale stayed at camp alone. He spent the time slow cooking. He had been eager to. It wasn’t often that he got the opportunity to cook for a full group of people, and the sooner he impressed them the easier this journey would be. Her request was for him to make that stew again, specifically.
It meant he would have something to occupy his time with while they were at camp. It did mean that he was the only one who had something to occupy his time with.
It didn’t escape his notice how dramatic their resident vampire could be, not when Astarion ensured that when he was being dramatic it was hard to ignore him. At first the day started as normal; Astarion returned to his tent to busy himself with whatever vanities he usually did, but Gale would also usually move to his own tent as opposed to preparing food at the heart of their camp. The heart of their camp also happened to be next to Astarion’s tent.
Apparently, having someone within his line of sight encouraged Astarion to bother them.
The pale elf moved to sit opposite where Gale was around the campfire that he was starting up. Karlach and Lae’zel had managed to move a few larger logs and stones to create some form of seating area round it, and it was one of these that Astarion decided to drape himself across. Like he was some sort of model for a melancholic painting, ready to have his visage immortalised forever.
He gave a sigh. The kind that only he seemed to know how to do. The kind that sparked something inside Gale that he was desperate to push against. Gale decided to ignore it. He was growing to find it to be a little more fun not to indulge Astarion in his various whims. The response he got could be much more entertaining.
So, he sighed again. Louder. Gale continued to prepare the vegetables and herbs that were due to go in the broth. He tried not to smile. He expected Astarion’s eyes would be on him and he didn’t want to ruin the fun by giving away that he was actually paying attention.
“Fine!” Astarion eventually bit out. “Have it your way! Make me beg for attention like a pet, why don’t you?”
Gale chuckled as he finally glanced up to meet Astarion’s glare. “Good afternoon to you too, Astarion. So pleased to see your manners are as wholly absent as usual.”
“How you manage to consistently be so unendingly patronising illudes me. How long do you think Wyll will keep up his new efforts to bond Shadowheart and Lae’zel?”
“Bored of camp already?”
“Insufferably so.”
“You act as if this is the first time you’ve been left here.”
“Usually Shadowheart is here to entertain me. You, however, seem perfectly willing to sit near me without engaging me in any meaningful conversation.”
Gale rolled his eyes. “You know, you can make the first move? The responsibility doesn’t sit entirely upon my shoulders. You are able of standing up and walking over to me to instigate said meaningful conversation.”
“That’s what I’ve done, isn’t it?”
Hardly without complaint, but Gale decided it wasn’t worth chasing that thought. He turned to Astarion’s unanswered question, instead. “I rather got the impression from Wyll that this was something he felt was important for being able to keep our little rambunctious team functional. He seemed determined, honestly. He intends to make them friends.”
“You think his determination will outlast their stubbornness?”
“Quite possibly. It’s hard to really say, as I’ve never had to see them go head to head in a battle of perseverance or tenacity. Wyll does seem the type that when he believes he has found the right answer, he will march towards it with an intransigent drive.”
“Ugh, you could be correct. Lae’zel seems malleable enough that she would eventually kneel to his whim.”
“If that is the case, and Shadowheart finds herself unable to stand up to his tenacity, perhaps it will be less a matter of how long Wyll intends to keep up his efforts and more a matter of how long they will last against him.”
“Not long, I hope. There will be only so many days I am willing to sit here and watch you cook on endless repeat.”
“You could help, you know,” Gale huffed as he glared across the pot to the man lounging on the log opposite him. “A little kindness from you wouldn’t go amiss. I’m assuming you are capable of kindness, yes?”
“What, help you cook?” Astarion scoffed. “I’m not the one who’s going to be eating it, and it’s not like you can feed me anything else, is it?”
“That’s not the point.”
“I think it’s entirely the point. You want me to help you cook. Have you ever helped me hunt?”
Gale narrowed his eyes.
“See? Don’t get all high and mighty on me, dear wizard. Besides, I haven’t cooked anything in decades. What makes you think I even know how.”
“It’s not difficult to stir a pot.”
“Ugh, do not tell me you can’t magic it to stir itself.”
“It’s the principle of the matter. When was the last time you helped anyone around the camp?”
Astarion sat up properly and leaned in towards Gale with a raised brow. His voice dropped, speaking lowly as if there was more than the two of them in the camp with Withers off in the distance, unable to hear them at normal volume. “Is it truly? I understand if the issue is a matter of…talent. You do not need to pretend for me, Gale. It is just the two of us. I appreciate how these tadpoles in our heads have affected our bodies and our skills more than anyone. I would be cruel of me to judge you for it. It has not escaped my notice that not everyone has…benefited from these affects.”
Gale felt a flare of annoyance. “It is not a matter of talent.”
“Are you sure? Or, is it not something you’d like to admit?”
He stood, and with a flick of the wrist and low spoken words, Gale set things up to do themselves - including a hand to stir the pot he had been trying to get help from Astarion on. Within seconds he knew the mistake he’d made.
When he had watched Astarion play strangers they met like a fiddle, the man never showed his hand. Not even on securing his victory. Even their companions - he had once watched Astarion draw sympathy from Wyll with those puppy dog eyes he seemed so practiced at and never admitted to the game he was playing.
He didn’t know why Astarion treat him differently. Maybe there was some kind of satisfaction he got from Gale’s face on the realisation of what Astarion had done. He didn’t understand it - surely if he wanted Gale’s trust, he wouldn’t so openly admit to his manipulations, lest they fail the next time?
But he did. As soon as Gale gestured with the words on the tip of his tongue about questioning the talent of an archmage’s ability to use basic magic to provide himself assistance with chores, they died at the look on Astarion’s face. Gone was any concern and sympathy. Gone was the hushed, secretive way he spoke. It was instead replaced by a lopsided smirk as the red eyes looked up through a half lidded gaze.
Gotcha, it said. Gale’s irritation only rose.
“You are insufferable.”
“It’s what makes me so lovable, surely,” Astarion argued with a growing smirk that flashed a fang. “I’m so pleased to see that our tadpoles haven’t left you bereft of talent, my dear wizard.”
It was the tone of their growing friendship. That Astarion would follow him with barbs and teases until he cracked. Like a child throwing stones at his window until he was willing to chase them. Or pulling the pigtails of another child. When it roused his emotions enough, Gale found he stopped contemplating it and fell into the easy back and forth.
It probably didn’t help his case that it was difficult to keep the smile off his face while it happened.
——
Shadowheart at least did appreciate the effort he put into making her the very dish she requested. The four of them returned to camp bloody and not too bruised, along with the difficult news of finding out Wyll’s father had gone missing on their way to seeking out Lae’zel’s people. It made Gale feel like his day had not been wasted when Wyll took his first bite of their dinner and a smile formed on his face.
“I needed this,” he said as the two of them sat side by side. “Thank you, Gale.”
As Shadowheart and Lae’zel ate on opposite sides of the fire the tension dissipated from their shoulders. It wasn’t to last forever. As soon as Lae’zel was finished eating however, she excused herself to her tent as usual. Not without first shooting a glare across the fire to the cleric sat down.
Shadowheart shut her eyes. Took in a deep breath. Forced a smile on her face as she complimented Gale on his cooking before finishing her meal and retiring for the night.
Eventually the evening took Wyll away from his side. Gale found himself sat with a book with the campfire his light in the darkness to illuminate the words on the page. In the distance close to the water and directly in his line of sight, Wyll and Karlach were talking together. She was asking about his adventures as the Blade of Frontiers. He was more than happy to indulge, going as far to get up and enact scenes for her with his chalice sat on the driftwood they were sharing as a seat, long since forgotten.
It was sweet. Gale couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face as he took sly glances at them between paragraphs. It was hard to concentrate.
Only made harder as an increasingly familiar companion arrived by his side. He attempted to school the smile on his face into something more neutral.
“Yuck.”
When Gale looked up to see Astarion’s face, what he caught was the most undignified expression he’d ever seen the elf wear. As opposed to his usual haughty expressions of mild indifference and flamboyant flirtation he was wearing a face akin to disgust. His nose scrunched up and his upper lip raised to bear his left canine, brows lowered to darken the red eyes which were pinned to Wyll and Karlach.
“What’s the matter?” Gale asked as his lips twitched upward involuntarily. “Something you want to say about our esteemed companions?”
“Yes.” Astarion gestured to them with a flick of his wrist. “Look at them. Being all… like that. It’s foul. They can’t find somewhere else to make eyes at each other? I can see them from my tent.”
“It’s sort of sweet, really. That they have become so close after spending so long with one chasing the other. That, despite their history, now that they’ve had an opportunity to get to know one another it’s given them a chance to find some kind of companionship between them.”
“I should have gone to find Lae’zel. I forgot that you were a romantic. You have so many other flaws that it’s easy to overlook that one.”
The red eyes finally met his. Gale raised a brow in an attempt at disapproval.
“You must be thoroughly enjoying seeing them bond in such a manner.”
“I do think it’s nice to see, though it-?”
He cut himself off. He had a tendency to speak his thoughts out loud with little care for who heard them when he was relaxed. He was used to it, with Tara. Being able to just speak whatever came to his mind. He was growing into a similar comfort around his new travel companions. He needed to remember that it wasn’t always appropriate.
“Though it what?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Oh no, you can’t start that thought process and not finish it, darling. Please, enlighten me. What could be the thing that you, who enjoys reading and romance and poetry, don’t like about this display?”
Gale looked from Astarion to the pair across the camp. Watches as Karlach laughs with her whole body at something Wyll says who, in turn, smiles softly to her as he watches the way her face moves. The way her eyes close and her head is thrown back. A moment where he allows his affection to show on his face while he thinks she won’t catch it.
“It leaves one feeling a little…melancholic, I suppose.”
Astarion doesn’t respond to him. He finds he’s nervous to look over and find the expression painted across the elf’s face. Is the disgust still there? Perhaps pity, in the most sincere way that Astarion could have it. Disappointment?
“Wish you were on the receiving end of someone’s attention?”
When he finally looked over to Astarion’s face he was surprised to find it unfamiliarly blank. There was nothing to give away on his face. No sign of any emotion. Nothing to hint Gale at how the conversation was going to go. At what the best thing to say was. Which foot he should put forward.
“I suppose. It would…be nice.”
Astarion’s red eyes continued to focus on him with that blank face. A master at cards, no doubt, Gale mused as he started to feel an itch form on his skin. An unfamiliar sensation. He felt the need to keep talking. He needed Astarion to react.
“We all crave companionship in some form, don’t we?”
The red eyes finally left his. Gale felt like he could breathe again. The blank face shifted into something a little unimpressed.
“I suppose so,” Astarion drawled. “Though they can crave each other out of my view, thank you very much. I’ll keep in mind that you’re craving something when I next come across a lonely, desperate individual on our travels so I may point them in the right direction.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
“Well, it’s not like you’ll find your companionship here, unless you want to put yourself between those two, or - gods forbid - between the other pair.”
Gale gave a dramatic shudder at that. “Perish the thought. I’d like to think I have more sense than to put myself into that impending eruption. I do not need to become a catalyst for another threat of explosion. One is more than enough weight to carry.”
Astarion chuckled. Gale was oddly pleased when he looked up to see the unimpressed look had been replaced with something more… appraising. “I’m pleased to hear you are not so lonely that you would make any thoughtless decisions. No more than what you have already made in the pursuit of love, at least.”
The laugh that escaped him at that was a little more strained than he hoped it would be. “Yes. Quite.”
“Distract me from them, would you?” Astarion asked. He leant into Gale’s side. Their shoulders brushing together as he peered at the book long forgotten in his lap. “Read to me.”
“You…want me to read to you?”
“Do not pretend as though you do not enjoy the sound of your own voice, Gale. Modesty does not suit you nearly as well as a little pride.”
He wanted to argue. Defend his character. There was an odd tone in Astarion’s voice - a total lack of sarcasm and flare that left him feeling as though maybe, it wasn’t meant to be an insult.
So he agreed. He found a good place to start, and the two spent the evening together by the fire, with Karlach and Wyll’s laughter as the backdrop to Gale’s voice as he read the story he had chosen for the night aloud.