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The fire had long burned down to cinders and the camp had settled into a low hum now that the tieflings had left. Everyone had eaten and drank their fill and were now getting ready to turn in for the night. Astarion was brooding by his tent, ruminating about going to speak to Gale but he couldn’t think of how to start the conversation. The wizard had shot him down every other time he had tried to flirt with him, brushing it off as if Astarion was joking. And while the vampire definitely had other motivations, he couldn’t deny that Gale had a certain magnetism to him. A strange, somewhat annoying, know-it-all charm that had Astarion drawn to the man in a way that surprised even himself.
Even now, clad in his dreadful purple bed clothes, Gale was gathering the leftover wine bottles to rinse and reuse them, which Astarion found stupidly endearing for some reason. And he must not be the only one to think so because the other camp members were also helping tidy up. Even Shadowheart. Maybe it's a spell.
He is still trying to come up with something to say when Gale starts walking towards Astarion’s tent. “Are you all finished with that?” He gestures to the bottle of shitty wine Astarion had been nursing all night. “I can take it for you.”
Astarion takes a big swig of what is left of his bottle–the sour vinegar taste was better than nothing at all he supposed–and then hands it to the wizard. “Yes, here you are.”
“You know, Astarion, you could be helping us clean up before bed instead of just standing here, observing.”
“Thanks for the offer, darling. But I much prefer to stand by and watch, you know?” He lowers his voice and adds, “Plus, I'm really enjoying the view.”
Gale turns his head to scan the camp surroundings. “Well, I suppose it is quite nice out tonight. Although I'm sure it mostly feels that way due to our momentous victory, and the satisfaction of helping those poor tieflings."
Astarion lets out a small frustrated sigh before taking a step towards Gale, getting just close enough to be in his personal space. “My dear, naïve wizard. I wasn't talking about the scenery.”
“Oh?” Gale swivels back around to meet bright red eyes staring unblinkingly into his own. This close, Astarion could actually hear Gale’s heartbeat quicken. “Oh! Ahem, well I'm just going to continue picking up now. Good evening, Astarion.” And with that he turns on his heel and makes a bee line for the river with his arms full of empty wine bottles.
“Boo, you're no fun,” the rogue huffs to himself with a pout.
“Did someone say ‘fun’?” Karlach bounds over towards where Gale had just stood near Astarion. “I think we should do something fun! Who wants to play a game before beddy-bye time?” she hollers. This gets the attention of everyone in camp.
Astarion puts his hands on his hips. “A game? Come now, darling. I hope you're not about to suggest a bunch of drunk people play something as droll as lanceboard.”
“Gods, no!” Karlach makes a face somewhere between shock and disgust. “I don't even know how to play that when I'm sober, mate.”
Gale perks up a finger and poises himself to say something before Karlach cuts him off. “And no, Mister Smarty-Robes. I don't care to learn either.” Gale’s finger and face drop simultaneously.
Lae’zel stops sharpening her sword for a moment and turns towards Karlach. “What a waste of time. Why do we not simply spar if you are so eager to not stand idle?”
“I’m all for a rough tumble, but on what planet is sparring a game?” She eyes Lae'zel for a split second. “Oops, sorry Lae. I know you're not actually from here. Plus, some of us are a little… squishier than others.” She glances at Gale and then back to Lae'zel.
“I resent that,” Gale complains.
The gith rolls her eyes. “I suppose we could leave out the rule that states we must fight to the death, if you insist on making it a game. But I don't see much point to it then.”
“How about something a little less bloody and a lot more sexy,” suggests Shadowheart. “Like strip three-dragon ante!”
Wyll clears his throat. “Ahem. How about just regular three-dragon ante?”
“Really, Wyll, where is your sense of adventure?” Astarion pulls out his trusty dagger, which glints in the low firelight. “Now, who among you dares to try and best me at the knife game? We need a bit of danger to really make things interesting.”
“You guys!” Karlach shouts above everyone to get their attention. “I actually already had something in mind before you all decided to chime in. Let's play spin the bottle!”
There is a beat of silence as everyone looks around to see if the others have any objections. When nobody does, they all turn back towards Karlach, nodding in somewhat reluctant agreement. “Fuck yes! I've been wanting to smooch every one of you since I joined this group! And now that my engine has cooled off a bit, I actually can!” She lets out a celebratory whoop and pumps her fist in the air.
As everyone makes their way towards the center of camp, Astarion can't help but eye Gale, who is now a bit pinker than he had been just a moment ago. Oh, this is going to be fun.
Once everyone is seated in a circle on the ground and a suitable wine bottle has been placed in the center, all faces once again turn towards Karlach expectantly.
“Well, it was my idea to play so I guess I should go first,” she says with a wide grin.
She leans forward and spins the bottle, hard. It goes around and around and finally stops. The neck of the bottle is pointed towards Wyll. There's a collective ooh, which makes Wyll blush a bit.
“Wow, I wasn't expecting to be up so soon.”
“Just hush up and kiss me you handsome devil, you!” Both of them crawl towards the middle of the circle of fellow companions. They linger for the briefest moment before closing the distance between them. Everyone whoops and whistles as they do. It doesn't last very long, but Astarion's pretty sure he saw tongue.
Then it's Shadowheart’s turn. She seems indifferent outwardly but Astarion can tell she's actually excited. That excitement becomes more evident when her spin lands on Karlach.
“Fuck yes! Two in a row! Bring it in, Shads.” Their close proximity makes it easy to share a rather passionate kiss. Astarion glances around and can't help but notice Lae'zel looking slightly more sour than usual. Was that jealousy? But which one is she jealous of? When they part, Astarion can tell that it could lead to much more than a kiss if they weren't surrounded by their friends. Interesting.
Next up is Gale. He definitely seems the most reluctant out of everyone but is being a good sport anyways. Astarion secretly hopes that the bottle will land on him. Well actually, he's trying to be obvious but Gale has been pretty oblivious to his other advances, so he's not holding his metaphorical breath for the wizard to pick up on the “please kiss me” eyes he's currently making.
Gale spins the bottle and it seems to take a full tenday to stop. When it finally does, the neck is pointed somewhere between the githyanki and the vampire. Before anyone can make an official ruling, Lae'zel decides it was closer to her. She leans forward and gestures for Gale to do the same. The wizard laughs nervously and flicks his eyes between them before obliging. He looked almost disappointed. Or maybe Astarion was just imagining that look on his face before Lae'zel blocked out his view with her own head.
Gale looks like he is going to just go for a peck on the cheek, but Lae'zel has other plans. She grabs his face with one hand and brings her mouth to his harshly, and with a moan. It is positively obscene. Everyone can hear their teeth clacking and lips smacking. After what feels like ages, Gale manages to get free of Lae'zel’s death grip. His cheeks are red from where she grabbed him.
“By Mystra’s mantle, Lae'zel! Why must you kiss so aggressively? It's only a game, not a competition or something.”
“Was it bad,” She asks bluntly.
Gale blinks at her. “Er, well, no not exactly–”
She cuts him off, “That is because Githyanki are skilled in all things. And I will prove it, should anybody hold any doubts.”
Nobody does.
Wyll’s up next. His spin lands on Astarion. The sweet monster hunter is someone that Astarion could see himself falling for, if it weren't for that damned wizard occupying most of his thoughts lately. They both lean towards each other and Wyll plants a very chaste, very gentlemanly peck right on Astarion's cheek.
Astarion grabs Wyll's hand and without breaking eye contact, places a delicate kiss of his own to the back of Wyll's warm palm. They share a small smile and return to their spots around the circle. Immediately both Lae'zel and Shadowheart criticize them.
“That was romantic but it wasn't sexy,” complains Shadowheart.
Lae'zel gives a curt nod of agreement. “Entirely devoid of heat. One might even call it boring. And I am that one.”
“You want to make out sloppy style in the middle of the group, do it on your turn.” Astarion examines his nails nonchalantly. “Some of us have class.”
“Not that you would know, Astarion,” Shadowheart shoots back.
“Of course not, darling. I'm quite the charming rake after all. I was referring to Wyll.”
Wyll clears his throat. “Your turn Lae'zel.”
This time the bottle lands on Shadowheart. She almost jumps out of her spot to meet Lae'zel in the middle. Much like the kiss with Gale, this one is very aggressive and there's a lot of… sounds happening. Astarion almost wants to look away, but finds that he can't, in the same way that one has difficulty looking away from a natural disaster.
When they eventually–finally–part, both of them are flush faced with spit slicked lips. “About time,” Astarion grumbles to himself. He reaches a hand out for the bottle. If he were the type to believe in gods, this would be the time to pray for just a little bit of extra luck. There's only one set of lips he truly wants to kiss, and they are attached to a wizard that is looking at him with just a hint of nervousness.
Astarion takes a breath he doesn't need and spins the wine bottle. He closes his eyes until the spinning stops, hoping beyond hope for it to land on Gale.
It doesn't. Well, not quite. It is pointing to the space between Gale and Wyll.
And Wyll, the actual saint that he is, scooches over just so, so that the bottle looks to be pointing more towards Gale. He gives Astarion a small smile then.
Astarion returns the smile before locking eyes with Gale, who has gone positively pink with a blush that travels all the way down his neck. Delicious.
“Oh, would you look at that? Well, let's do this darling.” He is desperately trying to convey an air of nonchalance so nobody would know just how much he was internally screaming with anticipation.
“You’re sure about this, Astarion?” Gale is giving him an out. How sweet.
“I'm quite sure, now bring me your face.”
Gale swallows before slowly leaning forward on hands and creaking knees.
Astarion meets him directly in the middle and it feels like the air is charged with electricity. His palms have gone clammy, which doesn't seem possible for someone of the undead persuasion. Something else that seems impossible for him is the feeling of nausea that's forming right in the pit of his stomach. Unsure of whether it is the wine or the nerves causing it, he choses to ignore it for now.
This was ridiculous. He had kissed hundreds, if not thousands of people before. None have made him feel like this before the actual kiss even happened before. Then again, none of them were his choice to pursue.
Gale was mere inches away at this point. They stare into each other's eyes for a beat before Astarion closes the distance between them. He knew he had to act swiftly before he lost his nerve.
Their lips meet a little too hard at first, and they knock teeth. “Oof! Not my best work, let me start again.” He leans back in and this time slowly aligns his mouth with Gale's. Instantly, the rest of the camp melts into the background. It's as if nothing else exists but the two of them at this moment in time. Gale brings a hand up to cup Astarion’s cheek just as he starts to deepen the kiss.
Astarion has kissed and been kissed many many times before. None have been like this. This is careful, explorative, and sweet. Gale tastes like wine and fruit. He smells like the smoke from the campfire and something spicy. The press of his lips against Astarion’s own feels like kissing for the very first time. A soft moan escapes one of them and Astarion can't for the unlife of him tell if it was from Gale or himself.
Astarion lets his hands start to wander down the back of Gale's neck when the wizard pulls back very suddenly, almost knocking himself over. Astarion mourns the loss of warmth and almost lets out a whine that would have been very unflattering. Gale's face is burning bright crimson and if Astarion had a proper blood diet, he's sure his face would match. They blink at each other for a moment before Gale scrambles to his feet, and he starts to make a hasty exit towards the river.
“Ahem! Well, that was quite entertaining but I do believe that's where I'll have to call it a night. You lot feel free to continue in my absence. Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.”
Once he's gone far enough away, everyone turns towards Astarion, who seems frozen in place at the center of the circle.
Shadowheart is the first to break the silence. “Wow, Astarion. I didn't realize you were such a bad kisser that you could scare people away like that.”
Astarion brings a hand to his chest in indignation. “Excuse you, I am a very talented kisser! How dare you!”
She scoffs. “Clearly not. Gale quit the game and practically ran away just so he wouldn't have to keep kissing you.”
Lae'zel chimes in as well. “Chk! The wizard didn't run when I bestowed a most fierce kiss upon his puny lips. It must have been your inferior skills that drove him away.”
“I bet you he was just… tired or something! Because I am not a bad kisser. I'd kiss you both right now to prove my point, if I didn't think it would make you swoon.”
Lae'zel crosses her arms where she sits. “Githyanki do not swoon.”
Shadowheart smirks. “I'll take that bet.”
“Alright then. I'll go confront him right now to find out for sure.” He stands and says mostly to himself, “I am an excellent kisser.” As he stomps off in the direction that Gale went, he ruminates on Shadowheart’s words.
Stupid Shadowheart, thinks she's so hilarious. And Lae'zel, too. Honestly, what sort of idiot do you have to be to accuse me of being bad at, anything really, but kissing! Of all the things, kissing! Me! The nerve of some people… I'm the best kisser I know, there's no way that could be the reason Gale left, right? No, of course not, they're both too wine drunk for proper brain function, clearly.
It doesn't take him long to find Gale. The man is muttering several phrases to himself over and over near the river. He is knelt down and splashing his face with the cool water.
“Calm down. Deep breath. Don't blow up. Calm down. Deep breath. Don't blow up.”
“Gale whatever-your-middle-name-is Dekarios! I have a bone to pick with you!” As Astarion approaches, he sees that Gale isn't looking too great. “Ew, why are you all sweaty? Are you ill?”
“Something like that,” Gale groans as he stands up.
“Well, take a health potion and call it good. I need an explanation for what just happened back there.” He crosses his arms in front of him to show the full extent of his pout. “Shadowheart got some silly idea that you left because of me.”
“Astarion,” Gale says. But Astarion doesn't stop.
“She said it was because I'm a bad kisser, which you and I both know isn't true because I am, in fact, very experienced and very good at kissing!”
“Astarion,” Gale tries again, voice louder. Still, Astarion continues.
“Obviously I'm the most experienced in the entire group, and therefore the best. Well, maybe Halsin could have more experience, but he left with the tieflings so-”
Gale steps in front of Astarion and grabs his shoulders tightly. “Astarion! Would you listen to me? You are the reason I left!” He takes some deep breaths to regain his composure. “But not because you are a bad kisser.” He drops his hands down to his sides. “Quite the opposite, really. The kiss, itself, was rather lovely. And then you put your hands on the back of my neck and started moaning. I- I had to leave because I was getting… let's say excited.”
Astarion laughs. “Ha! You left because you got a hard-on from kissing me? Well, that's hardly anything to be ashamed of, darling. I take it as a compliment actually.” He gives Gale a seductive smirk and trails a sharp nail up under his bearded chin. He brings his face back within kissing distance of Gale's lips. “I might even be able to help you with that, if you're amenable.”
Gale very gingerly removes Astarion's hand and holds it in his own. “It's more complicated than just that. Due to the nature of the orb, any excess, um, excitement could detonate it. So I had to leave because I didn't want to kill us all over a truly breathtaking kiss from an absurdly handsome elf.”
A few silent moments pass while Astarion just blinks at Gale before speaking again. “Let me get this straight. You have what is essentially a bomb in your chest.”
“Correct.”
“And if you get too worked up, it could explode.”
“Also correct.”
“And you had to stop our kiss because it was exciting you too much.”
“Precisely.”
“Because the kiss was good?”
“Because the kiss was very good.”
Another beat of silence. Then Astarion turns abruptly, back towards the camp. “Well, alright. As long as that's all cleared up. I won't keep you any longer, wouldn't want you to explode.”
Gale lets Astarion get a few steps away before a thought occurs to him. “Um, Astarion? What did you- I mean, when you said you'd ‘help’ me, what did you… mean? That is to say, what kind of ‘help’?”
Astarion rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hip. “Sex, my dear. Obviously, I meant that I'd have sex with you.” At Gale's blank expression he adds, “Honestly, for someone so gifted mentally, you sure are dense sometimes.”
“Unfortunately,” Gale sighs, “you are terribly correct. Give me some complex potions to brew or spells to memorize and I'm, well, a wizard! Heh. But put me in a relatively simple social situation and I'm at a loss.”
“Well then let me help you out here.” Astarion steps closer, back into Gale's space. “I want to do nasty, dirty, filthy things to you. But you have this silly little orb-” he makes a point to poke Gale square in the chest, “-that prevents you from doing anything like that. So since I can't be of any help, I'm going to go back to camp and, I don't know, drink until I feel better.”
“Just because we can't have sex doesn't mean we can't do other things together, you know.”
“What, like hand stuff? If kissing got you that worked up I hardly think-”
“No! No, you ridiculous man. I mean, just spending time together. Reading, talking, or even just sleeping next to each other.” He reaches up a hand to caress Astarion's cheek, which Astarion flinches from at first but then leans into. “Though for the record, were it not for the orb, I would be very amenable, as you so eloquently put it.”
“Hmm. I guess we better figure out a fix soon then.” He covers Gale’s hand with his own. “Well, I suppose we could spend some time reading, although that seems much less entertaining than sex.”
“Aha! But I've got a stash of books all about the many sexual exploits of man. Could be a nice compromise, hm? What do you say?”
“I'd say ‘my tent or yours’ but I have a feeling that yours is much more comfortable.”
They spend the rest of the evening cuddled up on Gale's bedroll, bathed in candlelight, dissecting the various positions that may or may not be feasible inside a tent.
Astarion catches himself staring at Gale as he goes on and on about various topics that he seems to know endless information on. Normally, he would be bored to tears just listening to someone talk so much. But Gale’s voice is calming and his body is warm where it meets his own cool one. His undead heart swells with affection when Gale starts to nod off. He takes the book that's propped up between them and stacks it on top of the pile at the foot of the bedroll.
“Gale, darling. We should get you to bed.”
“Mm. I did notice that I was taking longer and longer blinks. Alright then.” He slips into his bedroll and holds it open for Astarion. The elf looks at him for a second before sliding down under the cover, and immediately melting into the warmth of Gale. He wraps himself around the other man like a lizard on a hot rock.
“This is okay, right? Us sleeping here like this, no sex, just cuddling all night?”
Gale mirrors the motion by wrapping himself around Astarion as well. “I wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't okay. Are… you okay with all of this?”
“Well, you know what I'd prefer to be doing but I do find this cuddling to be quite enjoyable as well. So yes, I'm okay with it if you are.”
“Oh I very much am.” He tucks Astarion's head under his chin. “Are you going to be able to trance if we lay like this?”
“Well, no. But I can just sleep for tonight. I don't want to untangle from you.” He buries his head deeper into Gale's neck and takes a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “Gods that was so cheesey, wasn't it? Ugh. Look what you've already done to me and we haven't even slept together. Yet.”
“I like it. And I think you secretly like it too.”
“If anyone else asks, I'll deny it.”
Gale lets out a sleepy laugh. “Okay, okay. Let us actually get to the sleeping part. I'm certain that we'll have lots of adventuring to do tomorrow.”
“Fine. Goodnight Gale. And… thanks. This isn't how I expected tonight to go, but I'm happy with how it did.”
“Goodnight Astarion. And thank you too.” Gale places a tender kiss on top of Astarion’s soft curls. He is asleep and softly snoring shortly after. Astarion stays awake for a bit, his mind processing the events of the evening. After a while, he too succumbs to sleep.
~♥~
The next morning, Gale wakes from his slumber having had quite a lovely dream. Then he remembers that it wasn't actually a dream! Astarion had slept next him in his own tent. He cracks open an eye and finds the other side of his bedroll empty. Oh, perhaps it was indeed a figment of his imagination. After all, what would someone as charming as Astarion want to do with a foolish wizard such as myself? It's not like I've got much to offer at the moment, disgraced and doomed as I am.
Just then the tent flap opens silently, and Astarion peeks in. “Oh hells. I was hoping to be back before you woke up.” He enters fully and secures the fabric behind him.
“Where did you go,” Gale asks sleepily. “I thought I might have just imagined you sleeping here last night.”
“Mmm. I do enjoy the idea of you dreaming about me, but I assure you it was real.” Astarion moves the covers around so he can slip back underneath them. “It was nowhere important, darling. I just needed to inform Shadowheart that she lost a bet.”