Chapter Text
Astarion listened to the pitter-pat of rain falling against their window. He curled into himself tighter on their bed, smooth silk sliding against his skin and complimenting the comfort of the rhythmic tap of rainfall.
Tav had been hesitant to set up their bed next to a window - they’d set up a curtain thick enough to block the sun, though it was nonetheless risky - but Astarion had insisted, for the moments like these. The curtain was parted now, and Astarion watched the grey sky far above. Their manor had bordering buildings, but from the top floor, they didn’t block much of the view. Astarion had made sure of it before letting Tav accept the offer.
The aftermath of the Absolute left so many residences without live bodies to fill them, and as the heroes of the city(and because most of the people in charge were dead), Tav and Astarion had practically been left their pick of the city.
Astarion reached forward to rest his hand on Tav’s empty spot, running his fingers idly over the wrinkles left there. It was imagined, Astarion knew, but it always felt like his warmth lingered even after he was gone, clinging to bedsheets so as to never Astarion truly alone.
It was rare for Tav to go out at night without Astarion, but the rain forced Astarion to remain behind. He didn’t worry for Tav’s safety, nor his charismatic guile, in dealing with this new contact, but it was the itch of not knowing that clawed at him.
Astarion scooted over to press his face to the abandoned spot. Tav’s smell clung to the silk like heat and copper, and Astarion let it wash over him, calming his flighty nerves.
The rain continued to beat at the rooftops while Astarion watched the clouded, starless sky through one eye. What faint moonlight survived the cloud cover fell over his face in a gentle wash. Tav would be home soon, either with a lead on how to let Astarion walk in the sun again, or with new blood on his hands.
Astarion’s fist tightened in the sheets. Soon.
No sooner had the thought left his mind than there was a click from downstairs. Astarion’s heart jumped and he threw himself from bed. It took a moment of rushing to the door with wild abandon to remember his sensibilities, to slow down before darting out of the room. He stopped, donning his calm, collected demeanor before moseying out into the foyer with renewed panache.
Astarion leaned one hip against the top of their bannister and crossed his arms over his bare chest as Tav shuffled in on the floor below, dripping with rainwater and clutching a strange cloth bundle to his chest.
The sound of the rain and world outside shut off with the snap of the door shutting closed behind him.
“You’re dripping everywhere, my love,” Astarion said from his place above. Tav looked up and ran his eyes over Astarion’s shirtless frame. The quick dart of his eyes away from Astarion wasn’t subtle enough to hide his appreciation, and Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the sweetness of Tav’s decency.
“You sound so pleased to see me,” he chuckled at Astarion with demure poise, slicking his hair back with his free hand. Astarion uncrossed his arms and placed a hand on the bannister, letting his fingers slide down the fine wood as he descended. Tav’s tracked him with interest every step down the stairs.
“What news of our new friend?” Astarion asked, casually. He was sure to keep traces of anything beyond passive interest from his voice; he wouldn’t show how the question ate at him.
“Never showed up.”
Astarion’s heart sank silently, but he smiled.
“Mmm, a shame,” he said, feigning disinterest as his fingers left the bottom of the bannister with a flourish. He sidled across the floor with sultry languidity. “I would have liked to meet him.” Astarion raised a hand and tightened it into a claw- underlying intention made clear with a smirk.
“Terrible business for him, really,” Tav said, matter-of-fact, as Astarion closed the distance. “Men always taste better when drunk with vengeance, after all.”
And there was the coy grin, so subtle on his lips that it would be lost on anyone else, every statement whimsy for the two of them to laugh about.
Astarion pressed his palm to Tav’s cheek, letting his fingers thread through wet strands and cup around his jaw. “You know me so well.” Astarion eased forward, teasing his lips at Tav’s own, when movement caught in his lower vision and he stopped.
He’d forgotten about the strange bundle Tav held.
Did it just…move?
Astarion untangled himself from Tav’s side, distracted from the half-tense of Tav’s hand as he stopped himself from reaching out.
Astarion’s brow furrowed as he saw the tiniest squirm of the bundle.
“Ah, yes,” Tav began, sheepishly, after he saw what drew Astarion’s attention. “I did find something else.” The tiefling began to rummage around the cloth folds, seeming…
Bashful? Astarion stepped back and crossed his arms, as though that couldn’t possibly be the conclusion he’d come to. What in the Hells would make Tav, of all people…embarrassed? Even in his mind, the notion sounded ridiculous, comedically so. Genocidal scourge and former Bhaalspawn - timid like a blushing virgin. Hah! That was almost more intriguing than whatever was in the cloth in the first place, but not quite. It only made Astarion more painfully intrigued.
Tav paused in his rifling, seemingly come to the precipice of whatever it was, and shot Astarion a nervous, sidelong glance.
Astarion quirked his brow and nodded towards it, impatient. Go on, then.
Gently, Tav pried a final layer of cloth away to reveal the head of a dirty, sopping wet kitten.
“Oh,” Astarion breathed.
The kitten glared at him through bleary eyes, so covered in dirt and grime that he couldn’t even tell the color of its coat. Its head wobbled, and it narrowed its eyes at Astarion. Tav held it awkwardly in his arms and stared at it like he wasn’t sure quite what to do. Tav had lost his animal speech when he’d lost Bhaal’s patronage, and now didn’t understand how to behave around them, acting like they were some alien creature beyond comprehension. The awkwardness was endearing, if a bit of a pain.
“I uh-” Tav started, voice betraying his uncertainty as he stared at the little thing. The kitten grunted and shifted around in its blanket prison, prompting Tav to hold it a little further out from his body. “Well. Figured you might want a companion. Y’know, to keep you company during nights like these- or for the day, when I’m asleep,” he added with an uncharacteristically expressive nod of his head to the side.
Astarion creeped towards the kitten, trying to assess the pit in his stomach. He teased Tav with comfortable ease of habit - “Oh please, you just don’t want to admit you’re the ‘saving kittens’ hero type now,” came easy - but his throat clogged.
Tav grumbled but didn’t deny the accusation, and watched as Astarion extended a finger in front of the kitten’s nose. It lifted its head and sniffed, and Astarion saw hints of - well, what might be white fur, beneath the muck. After a moment of sniffing and pondering, the kitten pulled back and gently, wobbly, butted its forehead against Astarion’s knuckle. The poor little wretch was filthy, but Astarion found that fact easy to ignore for now as he scratched his fingernail behind one of its ears. The kitten stretched its neck and purred.
Astarion’s heart seized. The kitten’s purr was weak and broke off momentarily often, but it was enough.
He found it troublesome to speak.
“Well,” he said, voice wavering. “No one else will take care of the poor thing, so we might as well.”
He stated it like sheer simplicity of fact, rather than a proposition of kindness. Tav smiled at him in a way that told him he didn’t at all believe Astarion’s act of practicality, but he nodded, unwilling to break the unspoken illusion. For that, Astarion was grateful.
*
The kitten was, rather noisily and with great displeasure, sitting in a small tub of rapidly dirtying water while Tav gently scrubbed her with his hands. They’d moved to the empty space of their bedroom - Astarion sitting comfortably on the bed and watching while Tav pulled up a stool and began to work. Tav’s clothes dried next to the hearth that crackled at the back end of the room, and their respective dinners for the night sat on the nightstand. Astarion placed his fingers on the neck of his chosen definite-not-wine bottle and lifted it to rest next to him on the bed top, while Tav’s hot but uncooked cut of raw meat sat in a puddle of its own juices on a porcelain plate. Astarion looked at the grisly slab over his nose and sniffed with displeasure. Tieflings.
Astarion sat back against the headboard and raised the bottle to his lips while watching Tav. He eyed the muscles in his arms as they tensed and the tendons of his hands flexing as his fingers worked out the mud and gunk from the kitten’s fur. She squirmed in his hands, mewing indignantly as Tav handled her.
It was all well and fine, of course, Astarion knew those hands well. Despite the claws and gnarled knuckles, Tav had a gentle, if firm, grip, and Astarion was as happy to watch it as he was to be subject under it.
He watched with growing amusement as the kitten flailed about wildly, her indignant rage mounted to a high. She sunk her teeth into one of Tav’s knuckles and growled. Growled! Astarion loved her already.
Tav’s brow furrowed and he frowned. He was cute like that, all stoic consternation and hard eyes. He held the kitten up in the air with one hand, both bodies dripping water as the little she-devil continued to sink her little fangs into his finger, eyes narrowed and boring into his.
“It’s not nearly as charming as when you do it,” Tav said, his voice level. If Astarion hadn’t known his monotone humor so well, it would’ve been lost on him that he was joking.
“I don’t know,” Astarion said, smirking and gesturing with bottle in hand. “She’s got some spunk. I like it.” He made a show of dragging his eyes up Tav’s bare neck. “Now, if you’re wanting a more practiced predator, I can oblige.” Astarion bared his fangs in the light.
A slight flush rose to Tav’s face, but he kept his face unresponsive and returned to dunking the kitten without giving Astarion his pleasure in a reaction. Astarion smirked and rolled his eyes. You darling man, you’re not nearly as subtle as you think. Astarion would just have to try harder.
Tav pressed his thumb into the kitten’s forehead and rubbed, and the little thing seemed to have trouble deciding between being mad about it or enjoying the attention. “I wouldn’t mind,” Tav said, the flush creeping down his neck, “but finish your dinner first. Dessert comes later.”
Astarion chuckled and flashed his teeth again. “You spoil me,” he cooed, before settling back into his leisurely position, already salivating at the thought of Tav’s blood coating his tongue.
Tav glanced momentarily at the bottle in Astarion’s loose grip. “Who is that, by the way?”
Astarion hummed and pursed his lips, holding the bottle up to the light. In a moment of sick humor, Tav had proposed the idea of labeling the victims they drained, and Astarion had found it entertaining enough to start doing it. He looked at the scrawl.
“It’s titled ‘dumbass bhaal-thrall.’” The title wasn’t one who could put a face to. He looked to Tav for an explanation, who was pressing his lips together in an attempt to hide his self-satisfied smile, but his eyes twinkled with pleasure that betrayed him.
“How very elegant. I’m not familiar,” Astarion said, with a performative arch of his brow. “Care to enlighten me?” he asked. And if Tav’s face was to judge, he very much did care. Tav had that look about him that he got after successfully tormenting his prey - much like the cat who ate the canary - but he kept his voice calm.
“You were out of the house, then,” he said, “I found one of the cultists hanging about, stalking around our doors. Had some choice words for me - epic monologue and all that. Was intent on killing me and gathering glory for Father in ending my life.”
Astarion drank in the darkness carved into the lines of Tav's face as he told the story. Bhaal had killed his uncontrollable murderous urge, but Tav’s affinity for dark pleasures had remained. Especially for his former family.
Astarion inspected the viscous blood coating the glass interior with passive amusement. “Well. I bet that worked out well for him.”
Tav hummed, pleased. “Indeed.”
The kitten mewled as Tav picked her up by the scruff of the neck and gently shook her, encouraging the water to drip faster. Then, he placed the small thing on a nearby towel and shook his hands out in the tub.
Astarion sipped his dinner while Tav wrapped the little cretin up and towel-dried her. She wobbled back and forth as she got jostled, never finding balance, with her tail stuck straight up in the air. Spriteful little dear.
Tav stood, grabbing the tub of filthy water.
“I’ll go toss this. Don’t let her get to my steak.”
Astarion peered out of the side of his eye to the slab of bloody meat. ‘Steak,’ the man said. What a kind word for it. Nonetheless, he nodded, and Tav left with the small tub on his hip.
The kitten looked around in confusion on her little towel mountain, unsure what to make of the world she found herself in now that there was nothing to scream at. Astarion watched her for a few moments from his perch and she wandered around, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and leaning down.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it,” he said. He set his bottle on the floor to instead prop his hands under his chin while the kitten continued her adventure. “To be left without a foe to face, no vengeance to be gotten. You poor thing.”
She turned to face him and wandered forward, one awkward kitten step at a time.
“Now, don’t go telling him this,” Astarion whispered, as though telling a scandalous but delightful secret, “But I think you could take him.” Astarion nodded towards the door, where Tav had left. “Devour him whole, if you wanted. You’re a fearsome little darling, I can tell.”
The kitten, having no comprehension of language or bloodlust, wandered dumbly over to Astarion and braced her front paws against his shin. She sniffed the air haughtily and then meowed, demanding something. Her claws dug into him as she attempted to jump up and climb his leg.
“Ah- ow- okay,” Astarion hissed through his teeth. He unhooked her claws from his trouser leg and picked her up. She mewed, again, but didn’t protest as he relocated her to sit in his lap. It took a new moment to reorient her surroundings, but the kitten was once again on the move in good time.
Astarion watched with adoration as she seemed content to explore his lap, once even standing up and bracing against his stomach to screech, very demandingly and very noisily, directly to his face.
“Well, aren’t you precious?” he said, staring down into her determined little face as her eyes squinted and she screamed again, this time for longer and somehow more noisily than before.
“She’s hungry,” Tav said from the door. Astarion startled and looked up. His lover leaned against the doorframe, watching them.
Astarion mock pouted, leaning back to rest on his hands. The kitten took the invitation to start crawling up his chest.
“How long have you been lurking?”
Tav smiled, his eyes soft. It was still odd to see him so at peace these days, but it was a privilege Astarion fought hard for and well cherished.
“Long enough,” he said, watching as the small white kitten mounted Astarion’s collarbone and pushed into his neck. Astarion felt the tickle of her sniffing around his ear before she paused and screamed directly into it.
“Yeah alright,” Tav said, pushing off of the door frame. “It’s food time.”
Astarion watched in horror as Tav pried the kitten from Astarion’s shoulder and reached for his plate.
“Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’re going to,” he pleaded, eyeing the platter with disapproval.
Tav stopped, kitten in hand, long enough for Astarion to see the shit-eating grin on his face before he picked the meat up with delicate claws. He bared sharp double canines and tore off a chunk before mercifully setting the raw cut down. Astarion grimaced as Tav reached his grisled fingers up to his teeth to pick away smaller chunks that the kitten sniffed and devoured readily in his hand. Like a mother bird to her chick.
“You’re disgusting,” Astarion said truthfully, but without any real bite. Tav smiled through the next portioned scrap to be ripped off and nodded to Astarion’s discarded blood bottle.
Astarion didn’t need their illithid connection anymore to know what he was saying.
Yeah yeah, go drink your dead man’s ichor, vampire spawn.
Astarion sniffed, but took his bottle and retreated back under the bed canopy. At least Astarion had class. That - he glanced over again to the horrific scene - was just barbaric.
Though, he thought with distant musing as he lost himself into the blood, part of him enjoyed the wild predator he slept beside. The sight of Tav drenched in viscera and near feral at a kill was what had piqued his interest in the first place.
Still…
Astarion watched the pair again, with growing fondness despite the display.
The softer side was nice, too. Astarion watched and curled his lip into a sneer as Tav tore off another chunk from the mother slab.
Gruesome and freakish, but nice.
“Wash your hands before coming to bed tonight,” Astarion sighed, acquiesced to this strange new life and the freaks that came with it.
*
Astarion looked up from his book to see the barest hint of the sky lightening from their window, and leaned over Tav to shut the curtains. Before settling back into his own spot Astarion brushed his knuckles over Tav’s face with a warm smile. His eyes fluttered in his sleep, but they didn’t open, and Astarion took his place again, gentle warmth sticking with him. He saved his trance for the high hours of the day, when the sun was brightest. For several hours on either side of that, Tav slept peacefully at his side.
Astarion flipped to the next page and read, distantly appreciating the warm back pressed against his flank.
From the front of the bed, Astarion heard a little mrrrp!, and several prickling, scratching noises as their new tenant climbed the bed with needle claws. She’d disappeared for a few hours after the bath, and now looked…significantly more like a cat, rather than a strange deformed fluffy rodent. Astarion felt a strange sense of pride at the sight. Good for her.
She spotted Astarion still awake and pranced over, tail fluffed out and stuck straight into the air.
“You’re very adventurous, you know, for a delectable little thing approaching a vampire.”
The kitten continued on, oblivious, and Astarion set his book to the side as she approached, climbing over limbs and blanket folds like great valleys and mountains.
Astarion chuckled and scratched behind her ear as she stopped at his stomach, kneading into the soft flesh there. She purred so loud for her size, and Astarion marveled at the fearless affection.
“You’re very lucky I’m so kind, you know,” he said, scratching under her chin. She closed her eyes and stretched out her neck under the attention. “Most vampires are vicious, terrible things. I am too, of course,” he said quickly, “But I respect a fellow hunter.”
The kitten settled down into a loaf on his belly, still purring her heart out and kneading at his stomach.
After several minutes of attention, the kitten had made no sign of moving and instead settled further, ceasing her kneading and setting her chin out onto Astarion’s sternum as she drifted off into kitty sleep. He continued to scratch with a gentle smile on his face.
Astarion looked to the sleeping man beside him, the rise and fall of his chest, and then to the kitten drifting off on his front. Gentle, as to not disturb either, he indulged himself with a dramatic sigh.
Life was good, he supposed.
Then, when he was sure that the kitten had fallen asleep too, he allowed himself a small giggle of joy.