Work Text:
You can't sleep again.
Almost a nightly occurrence, you find yourself restless. Your eyes flit across the endless expanse of stars and ink above your camp, absentminded, silently hoping you'll find some respite… to no avail.
Defeated, you finally get up, mindful of your presumably sleeping companions beside you, and wander off towards the shore along the site. It's peaceful, and you're silently frustrated at how your body could possibly not want to sleep in such environs, living darkness and abominable horrors aside.
Your attention rapt by the ambience of the nearby settlement, churning waters, and the crunch of sand beneath your boots, you don't even notice when someone rests a hand on your shoulder.
Startled forward with a lurch, you turn your head towards your guest and find a tired, yet amused Astarion. “You're more neurotic than usual. I was calling your name, darling. Everything alright?”
You huff out a laugh, and slowly nod, “Yes, apologies, I… couldn't sleep. Didn't wanna wake anyone up with my fidgeting.” explanation out of the way, you turn to walk off, but find yourself asking, “Did you need something?”
“What? Oh, no, just checking up on our fearsome leader. I hate to say it, but I was a little worried you might wander too far, get yourself claimed by the shadow curse.” He jokes… or at least you hope he's joking.
“Hah, not when we just got here. Sorry to disappoint.” You joke back, and he chuckles quietly. “I promise I won't get myself killed, so you can go back to your meditation. Or whatever you were up to.”
The pale elf saunters up to your side, “Right, well–” pausing, he peers down at your tired expression with what you'd think is concern, if you didn't know any better. “Gods, when was the last time you slept? You look awful.”
“...Did you follow after me to berate me outside of adventuring hours? I'm really not in any mood to exchange backhanded remarks right now, Astarion.” You huff, exhaustion painting your words with an irritated lilt.
His brow furrows, and he huffs indignantly in return. “I'm serious, darling, I don't think I've ever actually seen you sleep since we left that nest of Gith.” His hand finds its way back onto your shoulder, albeit uncertain. “Is something keeping you up?”
You're somewhat taken aback by his genuine concern, and let out a startled laugh. “I'm sorry, are you genuinely concerned for me, or is this another manipulation tactic?”
Astarion’s face falls at that, along with his hand, “Why is that so surprising to you? No, you know what, forget I asked. You're clearly fine, that's all that matters.” and as the vampire goes to walk off, you're hit with a sudden sense of guilt.
“No, hold on, I’m sorry. Please don't leave,” You plea quietly, reaching to grab his hand before hesitating. Your arm falls back to your side, and you instead try to meet his eyes with your own. “Just not used to you, um… caring. That sounds bad, and it's not a slight against your character, It's just genuinely an uncommon occurrence,”
The elf before you turns, regarding your desperate expression with subtle amusement. You swear there's something else underlining his gaze, but before you can pinpoint it, it's gone. “Alright, you can stop whatever tangent you're about to go on. I get it.” He placates your unease with a soft smile.
“But come on, why haven't you gotten any rest? It's an easy feat for me, but you're not so… undead.” Astarion questions, gently chiding you simultaneously. You merely shrug at that, and when his pointed look makes you avert your gaze, you continue, “Sleep has never favoured me, I suppose. It's nothing new, I’ll be fine.”
The vampire crosses his arms with an unconvinced expression, his brow quirked. “I can cast Sleep on you, if you'd like?” He offers, and you laugh at that, shaking your head. “No, don't worry about me. Go get your own rest, Astarion. It’s really okay, I promise.”
Astarion huffs, before begrudgingly offering, “I know something that might help you sleep,” to which you snort, holding your hand up in denial, “Oh, yeah, real smooth. No, I’m afraid I'll have to pass on your very subtle offer.” At that, the spawn lets out an indignant grumble, “I didn't mean sex, dear, I just… will you trust me for a moment?”
Your eyes study his expression, the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Realizing he's being serious, your pointed scrutiny relents, “Alright, fine, what did you have in mind?” you swear he looks slightly proud… or maybe smug, for a split second, then it's gone.
Instead of verbalizing his plan, his hand finds yours, and he begins to lead you to the path towards camp. You hold back a skeptical look when he sidles you two up to his tent. Astarion's hand releases yours, only to usher you into the canvassed structure.
Your eyes find the spawn’s when he sits down on his bedroll, patting in front of him, and you reluctantly sit down as instructed. As it is, your back is against his front, and you debate on whether or not you should speak up, but Astarion promptly beats you to it.
“Bear with me here, darling, comfort is… not my forte.” His words are soft, and you find yourself smiling at the slightest hint of discomfort in his voice. With a slight pause, the vampire’s arms slowly snake around your waist, hugging you from behind.
You're silent, fearful of saying something that'll make him withdraw, though you allow your hands to gently come up to rest on his forearms. His chin lays against your shoulder, and you breathe out a small sigh.
It's nice, peaceful. The initial shock that Astarion initiated such an intimate exchange fades, and you're left relaxing into his embrace. Like this, the exhaustion from many sleepless nights comes crashing down on you, and you're almost surprised at how quickly you find yourself drifting off.
“I'm glad I trusted you.” Your voice wisps, body falling into his with a small exhale, and you're out. The pale elf enveloping your form smiles, softer than you've ever seen him, and holds you that much closer. It's bittersweet for him, knowing all that he's done to orchestrate the foundations of your relationship, and yet, he still finds himself becoming far too attached.
He, too, trusts you enough to enter his own meditative state. His mind full of the glances he'd caught you stealing throughout the day, Astarion burrows his face into the crook of your neck, and joins you in your peace. He'll deal with the growing affection he feels for you, come dawn. Somehow.