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Gale suppresses a yawn as he makes his way through camp. He’d just wrapped up one of his regular conversations with Tara, filling her in on their progress to finding and infiltrating Moonrise Towers, and the exhaustion of the day was beginning to catch up with him. But despite a good night's rest probably being the best idea for his weary bones he really didn’t want to end the day without talking to Wyll again.
It seemed absurd to him now that just a few months ago all he could ever think about was his falling out with Mystra, the shame and regret for what he’d done, and what he could do to win her back and become his goddesses chosen again.
These days however there was hardly a moment his mind wandered to any of his past failures, even with the ever present strain of the now mostly stable orb inside of him. Instead there was a certain warlock that occupied his thoughts most of the time.
Maybe it was another foolish endeavor of his to fall in love with someone in the situation he’s found himself in - doomed to fail, if not through a fault of his own then due to the deadly orb in his chest or the mindflayer tadpoles inside all their heads.
Still, he can neither control his own heart nor the yearning he feels to be close to Wyll, for as long and as much as fate or any other higher power may allow.
He arrives at his destination next to Wyll’s tent but to his surprise without the man in question anywhere in sight. Luckily there aren’t many places he could’ve gone to, especially not with the shadow curse still lurking close by, and he eventually finds him near the fireplace, dancing on his own. Gale watches him in silence, captivated by the way the other man moves with blatant skill, until Wyll notices his presence.
"Oh...sorry, I didn't see you standing there. Lost in the steps truth be told,” he says before he walks over to Gale, a confident smile on his face.
“I need them to be just right. I wouldn't want to fail my new partner."
"A new partner? And who might that be?" Gale asks jokingly, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.
"As luck would have it, he just arrived." Wyll smirks at him and holds out his hand.
"May I have this dance?"
Gale doesn’t even think before he reaches for Wyll's offered hand and lets himself get walked to an open area a little ways away from the campfire. He watches as Wyll does a few turns of dancing around him, finishing with a clap and then holding out his hand again in a silent invitation.
While Gale is certainly no stranger to courtly dancing, even striking quite the figure at the annual Blackstaff’s Ball when he was a student at the academy, it's been years since then and his skills were never as impressive as Wyll’s are now. He wouldn't be Gale of Waterdeep however if he didn't try to impress someone he wanted to woo.
He goes for a twirl and immediately regrets his decision.
Trying to do a turn he swings his arms but misjudges his momentum making him stumble forward. Wyll instinctively reaches out to catch him as he almost falls but he saves himself just in time, landing awkwardly on his feet instead. After he finally gets his balance again Wyll can't seem to hold back anymore and laughs.
As much as Gale would've rather not embarrassed himself in front of the other man he can’t deny that getting to hear him laugh made it still worth it. The sound makes a comforting warmth spread throughout his chest and he catches himself thinking he wouldn't mind hearing it for the rest of his life.
Gods, he really was gone on him, wasn't he...
Wyll clears his throat, clearly not wanting to give Gale the impression he had too much fun watching him flail around.
"Don't you worry. It takes years to master the Vollante," Wyll reassures him.
"You're a beautiful dancer. I'm sure you'll teach me in no time."
"I'll show you everything I know and then some. I promise. But perhaps we might try a more intimate style."
Gale follows Wyll’s lead as they start a slow dance together. The steps are easy enough to mirror and Gale is relieved when he realizes that the moves start to feel familiar after a while. It seems his body hasn’t completely forgotten his dancing days after all.
At the end of their routine Wyll grips Gale’s hand and they step close, then Gale follows the other man down to kneel with one leg on the ground.
Their faces are close and Gale tries to concentrate on that fact but he instantly feels pain shoot up from the knee that is placed on the hard surface. He winces and sucks in a breath making Wyll look at him, suddenly concerned.
"Gale, are you alright?"
"I'm afraid I need to get back up again," he says through gritted teeth, feeling incredibly awkward about this whole situation.
Is nothing going right for him today?
Wyll immediately stands up again and carefully pulls Gale after him, laying his other hand on the wizard's arm to steady him once he's upright.
"Sorry about that," Gale grunts, feeling the ache in his knee subside to a dull throb.
Wyll shakes his head slightly, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.
"No, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything I should apologize for putting you in that position."
Gale can feel Wyll's thumb gently running across his hand, maybe to soothe him or maybe he's doing it absent-mindedly. No matter the reason, the sensation certainly makes it easier to ignore the pain in his leg.
"It's not like you could've known my knees are more brittle than they look. To be honest sometimes even I forget I'm not some wide-eyed whippersnapper anymore."
He adds the last sentence more as a joke but he can't deny there's some truth to it. Ever since he had to confine himself to his tower he'd almost spend more time in the Weave then in this reality. His body felt less tangible then - despite the steady hum of the orb inside his chest reminding him that no illusion, no matter how convincing, could make him escape his fate.
But suddenly being thrust into this likely doomed adventure made him acutely aware that not only was he indeed nearing four decades on this plane, the ball of potent magic constantly clawing at his insides had also clearly taken its toll on him. There were more silver streaks in his hair and deeper lines on his face then he remembers having a year ago. His back ached whenever he stayed in a position for too long and his joints were more susceptible to the change of weather than he liked.
He was getting older, no use denying that.
"Don't make it sound like you're an old man, Gale." Wyll says, his concern slowly giving way to amusement.
They're standing so close Gale can see Wyll's long eyelashes fanning across his cheek whenever he blinks. The wizard’s eyes unconsciously wander down to the other man’s lips where he notices a small scar, barely visible, to the right of Wyll's mouth. He lets his gaze linger there for a moment and wonders how the skin got cut there and how many more old wounds are scattered across the warlock’s body that he cannot see. He feels a growing urge to reach out and run his fingers across that spot but instead he makes himself look back to Wyll's eyes again.
“Not old, no. Maybe older than I like at times.”
“Well, I may not know much about growing old yet-” Wyll smirks, clearly teasing him.
Gale gives him a scowl which earns him a lighthearted chuckle from Wyll before he continues.
“I also don’t know what fate has in store for us, none of us do. But one thing I do know is this - I’ll cherish every moment that brings me joy in this life. Helping people in need, a good wine and a favorite meal, laughing at a silly joke, dancing until the sun rises, spending time with the people I hold dear. I think that makes everything worth it in the end. Even the hardship and pain we may have to endure along the way.”
The words reverberate in Gale’s mind. Wyll doesn’t carry the weight of decades on his shoulders, yet he has fought more battles and sustained more scars in his young life than others might in a lifetime. He had to fend for himself since he was merely seventeen, do the bidding of a conniving fiend for years and suffered a dramatic and permanent change to his body at her hand when he stood up for what was right.
In some ways he might be wiser than someone twice his age - an unjust burden placed on him, one that Gale has the feeling Wyll doesn’t like to dwell on. A burden Gale would be more than happy to lighten in any way he could.
Wyll’s voice is as warm as his fingers still wrapped around Gale’s hand. There is a gentle smile on his face and something in the way he looks at Gale makes the wizard’s heart quiver in his chest. The pain in his leg is all but forgotten at this point, all his thoughts are occupied by the man in front of him and the intense desire to kiss those beautiful lips of his.
Gale loops his left arm around Wyll to place his hand on his lower back and the other man moves willingly against him when he pulls him closer. Their joined hands are trapped between their chests and Gale swears he can feel Wyll’s heart beat as fast as his when he tilts his head and begins to lean forward.
They meet in the middle, eyes closed, their mouths brushing against each other in a tender touch and Gale feels Wyll’s breath ghost over his skin as he softly exhales at the contact. The grip on Gale’s arm tightens, slightly pulling at him as though there was any space left between them to close while Wyll starts pressing his lips more firmly against him, parting them along the way.
Gale responds in kind, eagerly drinking in the other man’s taste and the pleased noises he makes as they kiss with more fervor. It’s exhilarating to feel Wyll this close, better than he could’ve ever imagined and he relishes the delicious heat that slowly begins to spread through his insides.
Eventually however Wyll tentatively pulls away. The pupil of his good eye is blown wide and his breath comes out harsher than before - the state of him not making it easier for Gale to let him take a step back instead of drawing him back in.
Wyll is still holding onto Gale’s hand, gently moving his thumb across the wizard’s skin again while he seems to gather his thoughts.
“Well…,” Wyll clears his throat, clearly trying to shake the effects of the last minute’s activities from his voice.
“It’s getting late. We can’t face the morrow if we don’t bid farewell to the now.”
Gale contemplates Wyll’s words. He can’t deny that he’d love to spend the night with the other man but that doesn’t seem to be where the warlock wants this to go. Not tonight at least.
While he respects that decision without question he still doesn’t want to leave just yet.
He searches Wyll’s left eye as he slowly moves his face close to him, making sure he can pull back if he does want him to stop. But Wyll just shuts his eyes and Gale takes the permission to close the space between them again.
This time their kiss is slower and less heated than before. Gale places his free hand on Wyll’s neck, enjoying the feeling of the warm skin underneath his palm as their lips move against each other once more. He sighs against the other man’s mouth and savors this moment for as long as he can before he makes himself pull back.
Wyll has a content look on his face as he watches Gale move away. He leans his head back and makes a pleased sound at the back of his throat.
“I’ve drunk wines from Daggerfall to Cormyr but I’ve never known a taste as rich as yours,” he says, grinning at Gale. “Godsdammit, you almost make me forget myself.”
Gale lets out a small laugh, pleased to hear he has such an effect on the other man.
“But I still keep faith in the old tales of love,” Wyll continues. “The once-upon-a-times and the happily-ever-afters. I’d like to do this the proper way. The way of the old romances sung by the bards.”
He brings their joined hands up to his mouth and gently places a kiss on Gale’s knuckles, catching the wizard entirely off guard. Gale blinks at Wyll who gives him a soft look that makes his knees feel weak for entirely different reasons than his age.
“Till next time, good night - and dream sweetly.”
Wyll smiles at him brightly and then saunters off into the night.