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When Gale called on Astarion to come by his tent after dark, he’d expected some sort of romantic rendezvous, not whatever this was. Gale had a large wooden tub full of water resting on the dirt beside his tent. The wizard himself was busy sorting through various bottles and oils nearby, perking up and giving the spawn a gentle smile as he approached.
“What in the nine hells is this?” Astarion said, sauntering up and giving the tub a hesitant look.
“It’s a bath,” Gale said as if that explained everything.
“I can tell it’s a bath. I’m asking why .”
“Astarion, I know you can’t see your reflection, but surely you can feel that you’re soaked in blood,” Gale said as he poured a few drops of some strange oil into the water, making the air around them smell vaguely of oranges.
Astarion glanced down at his clothes, indeed, mottled with flecks of blood. Cazador’s blood, he reminded himself. Visions of stabbing that bastard over and over and over flooded Astarion’s mind and he blinked hard to try to push those thoughts away.
“I suppose I am a little bloodstained, Darling. So I take it this tub is for me?” He purred, slipping back into his usual persona.
Gale nodded. “I figured after everything that happened today, you could use a nice, relaxing bath. I even managed to scrounge up some shampoo and conditioner so you can clean your hair.”
“Sounds rather nice. I hope this wasn’t all some ploy to get me to strip for you, hm?” Astarion said, raising a suggestive eyebrow. The flirtations comments were like a wall for him. After everything that day with Cazador and his fellow spawns and the ritual… he needed normalcy. He needed to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of cracking again.
“No,” Gale sighed. “I can leave you alone while you-”
“No,” Astarion quickly said, mouth moving before his brain could catch up. Gale gave him a look, one of pity and concern that made Astarion’s gut churn. “Just stay. No sense in booting you from the vicinity of your own tent. Plus, whatever shall I do if I can’t get a handsome wizard to wash my hair for me?”
“Ha ha.”
“Where the hell did you get a tub?” Astarion questioned, eyeing the wooden vat of water with an air of caution.
“Bartered it from an innkeeper,” Gale smiled. “I can’t really carry it with us, but I think it’s worth the price for you to be able to use it here.”
“Gods, you’re ridiculous,” Astarion grinned. “Getting a tub only to use it once. How fiscally irresponsible of you.”
Gale rolled his eyes affectionately before turning away. “Let me know when you’re in the water.”
Astarion blinked at Gale’s back. He always forgot what it was like, these little acts of decency like not wanting to thirst over his pale, lithe form. It meant more to him than the wizard knew. As quick as he could, Astarion shed his bloodstained clothes, tossing them to the dirt, before immersing himself in the tub. Gale must have been using some sort of magic to keep the water heated because it was the perfect temperature despite having been sitting out in the open air for who knows how long. Astarion let out a small sigh before calling out, “You can look now Darling.”
Gale turned around, giving a small victorious smile at the sight of Astarion settled in the tub. “Cozy?”
“Very,” Astarion replied. “So… are you going to hand me any of those soaps or did you just decide to put them out for show?”
“Ah, it slipped my mind,” Gale chuckled. “You should probably start with your hair.”
The wizard bent down, grabbing a bottle of what seemed to be shampoo and holding it out for Astarion to take. Astarion merely stared at the offering before looking back up at Gale.
“Will you do it for me?” He asked with faux-innocence, batting his eyelashes.
“Do you want me to?” Gale responded in kind.
“Yes, I do,” Astarion nodded.
“Well then, come a little closer to the edge so I can reach you.”
“Mm. You’re not afraid I’ll splash you?”
“That would be rude, but also expected,” Gale shrugged, pulling up his sleeves and approaching the side of the tub. “Go ahead and get your hair wet.”
Astarion obliged, dunking his head under and coming back up, pushing the dripping locks out of his eyes. He tilted his head back, watching Gale as he poured some shampoo into his hands and worked it into a lather.
“I’m going to touch your hair now, alright?” Gale said smoothly.
“Darling, I know that,” Astarion huffed. “Can’t exactly wash my hair with telekinesis.”
“Just making sure I’m giving you ample bracing time,” he chuckled before his hands slowly made contact with Astarion’s scalp.
Gale’s hands were calloused, but painfully gentle. Astarion kept his gaze on his knees, not wanting to risk looking up and seeing Gale stare back at him with tenderness in those stupid caramel eyes of his. And the asking, the constant asking, it drove Astarion batty. Gale didn’t need to do that for him. No one else ever did that for him. But Gale did. And it was kind. And it made Astarion feel cared for.
One of Gale’s hands came to rest on his forehead, tipping his head back a little, before a pitcher of water was poured over his hair, washing the flecks of blood and mud into the tub. Astarion wished Gale would move his hand away from his eyes. If he started crying, at least then he’d be able to blame it on soap in his eyes.
“Goodness, if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess you took a literal blood bath,” Gale joked as he poured more shampoo into his hands. “I’m washing it twice just to make sure I get everything.”
Astarion wanted to make a snarky comment, but he didn’t trust his voice at the moment, so he merely gave a hum of confirmation. Gale’s hands found their way to his hair again and this time, Astarion allowed himself to lean into it just a little more. Astarion was used to being touched, but not this sort of touch. He was used to touches that caused pain. He was used to touches that reeked of expectation for things he did not want to give. He was used to all sorts of things, but never a touch that was meant to help.
Once again, there was a hand placed above his eyes and more water rained down on him. Astarion made the mistake of looking up at Gale, and sure enough, the look in Gale’s eyes was so stupidly tender. His lips were curled up into a small smile and the stars shone overhead, making Gale look more like an angel than just some silly wizard.
Astarion opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but all that came out was a choked sob. Gale’s eyes widened in alarm as he dropped the pitcher.
“Shit, are you alright? Did I hurt-”
“No,” he gasped. “No it’s- it’s me. Fuck.”
Gale knelt down, facing Astarion at eye level. “Hey, it’s alright. Any rational person would cry if they just went through what you did.”
“I suppose I just need- need to get it out of my system-” he sobbed, trying to wipe the tears away, despite the fact that he was fully aware that they weren’t going to stop anytime soon.
“Astarion, I’m going to touch you now, alright? And you can push me off if you hate it.”
“What-” Astarion’s question was cut off when Gale wrapped his arms around Astarion’s neck. Astarion could feel his wet skin soaking Gale’s purple robes, but the wizard made no complaint. His chin came to rest on Astarion’s shoulder and he murmured small words of comfort that slipped off into the night.
Astarion cried and cried and cried until he couldn’t anymore, his body heaving with dry sobs. Gale just kept holding him, not trying to pity him, not trying to force him to speak, but simply existing, comforting. When he finally found his voice, the first words to tumble out of Astarion’s mouth were a gasping, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Gale murmured. “You don’t need to apologize. The important thing right now is that you’re free. You’re free.”
“I’m free,” Astarion weakly echoed.
“Yeah,” Gale spoke softly.
“I’ve soaked your clothes,” Astarion sniffled.
“They’ll dry. Did you want me to finish cleaning you up?”
“Yes please. And Gale?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For everything.”