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Astarion moved behind Gale, pushing his hands against the author’s back and hurrying him towards the door. As soon as Gale said he was off to his meeting with Rolan, Astarion was rushing him out.
“Astarion,” Gale chided, turning and placing his hands on the barista’s shoulders, “What’s gotten into you?”
Astarion shrugged. “Nothing. I simply want ample time to prepare for tonight.”
“Our reservations are at eight. That’s five hours away.”
“And I need every single one.” He pressed forward, hands holding on to Gale’s waist. He looked up through thick lashes, voice dipping. “It’s our first Valentine’s Day and I don’t want you to forget it.”
Their lips met. Fingers tangled into hair, tongues danced together, and a hand may have slipped into the back of Astarion’s joggers. When they broke apart, they were panting with swollen lips.
“Something to keep me on your mind,” Astarion teased, pushing Gale again, “Now off with you.”
“Fine, fine, I’m going.” Gale opened the door and stepped out. He turned back quickly, glancing at his watch. “I should return by six, six-thirty at the latest. Then, we can get ready and—”
“Sounds lovely, darling! Love you!” Astarion gave a wave and shut the door, hearing Gale grumble on the other side.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing the number of the restaurant. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for someone to answer. When a host finally picked up, he told them their reservations were no longer needed.
He sat on the sofa upside down, ordering groceries and then staring at the little car on the delivery app while mocking the reality stars on the television in fake voices.
When he got the notification that the driver had arrived, Astarion rolled off the sofa and sprinted towards the door, opening it and grabbing the paper bags. He carried them to the kitchen and deposited them on the island. After five minutes, everything he needed was spread out and ready for him to begin.
“Cupcakes first. How hard can it be?” Astarion grabbed the box of chocolate cake mix and read the instructions.
He searched the kitchen for a mixing bowl, whisk, and cupcake pan. Once those were found, he smiled, eager to begin.
The cake mix was cut open and dumped into the large bowl. Then he carefully measured the water and added it. Oil was next, a smidgeon over, but he shrugged and poured it in. Finally, the eggs were cracked - only a bit of shell went in but he picked out every piece.
Astarion put the cute paper heart liners in the pan and filled each one before sliding them into the oven. He dusted his hands with a smug grin.
“And Gale says baking is difficult. Maybe he’s just doing it incorrectly.”
Astarion’s next task was pasta. He had seen Gale prepare it many times before, so he had some confidence he could imitate of half decent dish.
A pot was filled with water before he placed it onto the stove and turn the heat on. While he waited, he prepared a pan. Gale had mentioned they were out of butter and he had forgotten to purchase it. He found olive oil instead and poured it in to coat the pan, allowing that to heat also. Oil was like butter, right?
“Three cloves of garlic, minced,” Astarion read on his phone. He looked at the gargantuan bottle of minced garlic he had purchased and back to his screen. “Well, how am I supposed to know how much that is?”
He grabbed the bottle, tearing off the foil under the cap with his teeth and wiping at the taste on his tongue. He screwed the cap on and squeezed. A large dollop of garlic fell into the pan with a plop and started sizzling. Seems right, he thought.
Astarion moved on, searching for the heavy cream amongst the ingredients on the counter. He picked up a carton and read the label.
“Skim milk? How could someone mistake heavy cream for skim milk?” He shook his head, but decided it would have to do. It was all he had.
He shifted back to the pan, seeing the garlic was…dark, teetering on the edge of burnt. He quickly grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred, cursing as most of it stuck to the bottom. He poured in the skim milk, hoping it would help, and turned the knob until the pan was set to simmer.
At that time, the water began to boil. The fettuccine was torn open. Most of the pasta made it into the pot while some fell to the floor, breaking and scattering. Astarion sighed. That was a problem for after the meal was prepared.
The timer on the oven began to beep as he struggled to find a utensil for the pasta. He yanked the dish towel from where it hung on the oven handle and opened the door, reaching in to grab the pan of cupcakes.
“Ah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He shouted, tossing the cupcakes onto the counter. He threw the towel and inspected his hand. It was pink, but nothing an ice pack couldn’t help.
He looked at the pan. The chocolate cupcakes had overflowed and were miserably flat on top. He wasn’t completely sure if the middle had baked with the way they sunk in.
Astarion sniffed the air and curled his lip. “What is that awful—”
He spun and realized the skim milk was boiling over and burning onto the stovetop. He stirred at it, letting out curses that would make a nun blush. The bag of shredded parmesan was swiped from the island and he tossed in handful after handful before giving up and dumping in the entire bag. He mixed it until it became a goopy concoction and switched to the pasta.
“Cook a meal for Gale, Astarion,” he muttered to himself, trying to get the fettuccine to de-clump. “It’ll be nice. You love him. Why didn’t I order delivery and pretend I had made it?”
Once he was satisfied with the pasta being in several clumps instead of one, he moved on to adding frosting to the cupcakes.
He ripped the can of hot pink frosting open and found a butter knife, scooping some and beginning to spread it on. The frosting began to glisten, heat causing it to melt. It stuck to his fingers and dripped over the edges of the cupcakes. He stared at them hopelessly once he had finished.
“Sprinkles!” Astarion suddenly remembered he had ordered a container of them. He found the tiny bottle on the counter. Sugary hearts were shaken out and covered the tops of the poorly frosted confections. “Well, that’s a little better.” It wasn’t.
He turned back to the pasta. Unable to find a strainer, he used the lid to drain the fettuccine. More pasta was lost in the drain and the lid clanged in the metal sink as he accidentally dropped it.
He emptied the pot into the pan, underestimating just how much space cooked pasta could take up. It was carefully stirred into the sauce, strings of cheese sticking to the side of the pan when he pulled the spoon away. The finished product was plated, but Astarion stared at it, brow creasing with pursed lips.
He made a little noise of a-ha and plucked some fresh parsley from the planter on the counter. He ripped it up and tossed it on with flair.
“Parsley,” Astarion said, “The sprinkles of the cooking world.”
He glanced at his phone, checking the time. Gale would be back home any minute.
Cupcakes were placed on smaller saucers and wine was poured. Astarion cleaned up the island as fast as he could, spritzing the counter with cleaner and wiping it thoroughly. He organized the plates neatly, putting the wine glasses beside the them, and hurried to the bedroom to change.
__________________________________
Gale didn’t have a meeting with Rolan. In fact, he had planned out the day completely the night before, throwing in a lie about a last minute meeting only aided him in his pursuit to give Astarion the perfect Valentine’s Day.
His car was parked right outside of Sunlit Florals, a brightly lit flower shop located not far into the city. He walked in and was greeted by an older woman, surrounded by various floral arrangements.
“Hello, dearie,” she greeted, trimming a rose’s stem. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here to pick up my order,” Gale replied, approaching the counter.
“Name?”
“Dekarios.”
The woman turned around and searched through a stack of yellow slips, taking one and moving over to a shelf. She sorted through the many vases and bouquets and finally pulled his order from the bottom.
She placed it on the counter. “Here we are!”
Gale stared at it for far longer than needed.
“This isn’t my order,” he told her.
“Yes it is.”
“No, it isn’t. It has a Get Well Soon balloon! It’s Valentine’s Day!”
The woman held up the paper, shoving it in his face. “Don’t go getting snippy with me. The system prints out the orders as they come and I make them.”
Gale peered closely at the slip. It was clearly his name with that arrangement and a large red stamp over it that read PAID.
Then, the night before came rushing back to him. He had been searching on his phone when Tara jumped up just as he was tapping on what we wanted. He shooed her away but in the process, his thumb must have shifted and he had chosen the wrong flowers.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. “Any chance I could get a different one?”
“Today? Absolutely not. You either take that one or keep walking, petal.”
Gale stared down at the vase of daisies. It was no roses, but it would have to do. He swiped the arrangement from the counter, thanked the owner and left the shop with a huff.
The flowers were placed into his car and buckled in so they wouldn’t tip over. He slid into the driver’s side and headed towards his next location of Kagha’s Kustomizations. The misspelling made him cringe, but he went in with a polite smile.
“Oh, it’s you,” Kagha said. “Here to pick up the mug?”
“I am.” Gale had stopped into the shop over a week ago to place an order for a customized mug for Astarion. Not like he didn’t already have four in the cabinet, but none were like the one Gale had chosen.
Kagha crouched down and pulled a small red bag from under the counter, overflowing with white tissue paper and ribbon curls. She handed it over to Gale.
“Wonderful! Thank you!” Gale carried the bag to his car and got in.
One peek won’t hurt.
He removed the tissue paper carefully, setting it in a cup holder, and reached in for the mug.
Red and black glaze swirled over the mug in mesmerizing swirls. It was coated in a gloss that made in shine perfectly.
Gale turned the mug and…
“‘Astorian?’ That’s not his name!”
Right at the bottom in stamped, silver lettering was Astarion’s name, but completely butchered. Gale placed the mug back in the bag, shoving the tissue paper in and putting it beside the vase of flowers. His head fell to the steering wheel.
He started the ignition, gripped the wheel, and pulled on to the street.
“Third time’s a charm, I guess,” he grumbled.
He exited the car and entered the department store. He walked up and down aisle after aisle, searching for the product he had confirmed was available before his arrival.
He stopped, smiling as his gaze landed on a pair of fluffy white bat slippers. They were oversized, covered in heaps of faux fur, and hideous. Astarion would love them.
He moved towards them, reaching out, but as he grabbed them, another hand was on them.
“Excuse me, I was wanting to purchase these,” Gale said.
“Me too,” replied the girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.
“But I need these for a gift,” Gale told her, annoyance spiking.
“And I need them for my feet. Back off, old fart!”
“Old fart? Why, I…”
They both yanked at the slippers, one in each of their hands. The elastic string that held the pair together stretched between them, tension building.
Seconds later, it snapped. Gale and the teenage girl landed hard on the butts. Gale sat up, rubbing at his back. He looked down and realized he no longer had the slipper in his hand.
His head shot up and saw the slipper he had dropped was in the middle of the floor between them. He scrambled forward on his knees, but the girl was faster, snatching the furry bat from the floor.
She stuck out her tongue and ran off with the pair.
Gale shoved a strand of hair out of his face, huffing. “Brat!” He yelled after her.
He stood, brushing off his pants, and walked back over to the selection of slippers. He sullenly grabbed a pair of rainbow yetis and made his way towards the registers.
The entire ride home Gale stewed in his disappointment of the day. Everything had gone wrong in some way.
He pushed through the door and called out to Astarion.
“In here!” Astarion shouted from the bedroom.
Gale walked into the kitchen and placed his gifts on the counter. He sniffed, scrunching his nose, and then looked over everything on the island.
Astarion came out of the bedroom dressed in a crimson sweater and black jeans. He approached Gale, lightly kissing his cheek and then perching on a stool.
“What is all this, love?” He asked, eyeing the cupcake with frosting sliding from the top.
“It’s dinner!” Astarion said proudly. “I cancelled the reservations and decided to make us dinner instead.”
Astarion waved for Gale to join him. He took a seat on a stool, looking at the oily pile of pasta on a plate. He gave the best encouraging smile he could.
“Before we dig into this…appetizing looking meal, I have gifts for you.” Gale nervously pushed them over. “Please know that I had other ideas in mind, but it seems i have terrible luck when it comes to shopping online.”
Astarion first looked at the vase. He leaned forward, sniffing the daisies, and giggled at the balloon.
The mug was opened next and Gale was surprised when he shrugged at the misspelling of his name and got up to place it directly at the front in the cabinet.
Astarion’s hands went to the slippers and Gale jumped in to explain himself, but Astarion cut him off with a squeal.
“Oh, these are adorable!” He slid them onto his feet and sighed. “And so soft too.”
“Well, I, um, I’m happy you like them. They were supposed to be bats, but this…large, brute of a man just knocked me out of the way for the last pair.”
Astarion reached forward, cupping Gale’s cheek. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to the author’s lips.
“I love it, all of it. Thank you, Gale.”
Gale breathed a sigh of relief. Next year he would plan properly.
“I suppose it’s time for me to eat this lovely meal you’ve prepared?” He asked. Astarion nodded eagerly.
Gale picked up his fork and twirled the pasta. The oil was dripping from the forkful and the cheese appeared curdled…or was that? He sniffed it. It was milk, curdled milk.
Hesitantly, he pushed it into his mouth. His body tried to reject it, a gag forced back down in his throat. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he swallowed, holding a fist over his mouth.
“Oh, that was…” He grabbed his glass of wine, chugging the entire glass. “That was something, Astarion. Wow. Let’s try the cupcake, shall we?”
Gale switched the plates, bringing the smaller of the two closer. He picked the dessert up, inspecting it and removing the liner. It seemed harmless.
He took a bite and realized he was wrong. Somehow it was both over-baked and under-baked. The outside was bone dry while the center was still batter. At least the frosting was edible.
The doorbell rang and Gale shoved the plate away as Astarion stood to answer it, thankful he was interrupted.
“Who’s that?” Gale tried to peer around the corner.
Astarion walked back in, balancing a box on his hand while carrying a plastic bag.
“Pizza and brownies,” Astarion answered with a smirk. “I ordered it while changing. I realize I’m not exactly chef material.” He chuckled as he set the box down.
Gale stood, going to Astarion and taking him into his arms. Their foreheads came together, eyes closing and smiling.
“We’re not very good at Valentine’s Day, are we?” Astarion whispered. Gale could hear the humor in his voice.
“No, no we aren’t.” Gale lifted Astarion’s chin, gazing into green eyes. “But I wouldn't have it any other way.”
They shared a kiss, slow and soft, breaking apart to fondly smile at one another.
“Keep the reservations next year?” Astarion asked.
“Definitely keep them.”