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satanicspinosaurus · 10 months

Text

Seconds

Tags: Bloodweave, Gale’s cooking, blood, cow’s blood, gift giving, fluff, getting together, after a break up, basically two hungry and scared people trying to figure out the world, Gale’s POV, so enjoy all his insecurities, and some verbose writing choices that are intentional, Astarion snark, kissing, ear touching, frankly you can read half of this as a metaphor for sex, author can’t stop you, author thinks it would be a mistake though

Length: 2k

Rating: Teen

Read on A03: here.

Summary: Gale and Astarion had struck up a friendship after a failed night of romance. Now, with the Netherbrain fight around the corner, Gale finds his heart still aches to give Astarion any scrap of happiness he can offer. This is a story about a man made of failures and hunger, trying to be a good friend. It begins with a steak. And ends with this most delicious second course.

With thanks: To my dear friend @lumienyx, who is frankly encouraging my bullshit at an alarming rate. And to the lovely @tragedybunny who hunted down the typos and errors on this like Tara feasting on pigeons.

•・・・◉・・・•

Gale rummaged through the spice cabinet of the Inn. He was pleased to see that the cook, who had allowed him to slip her a few gold coins for access and privacy, had managed to craft a solid selection. The sprig rosemary seemed a touch too on the nose, so he grabbed a little bundle of thyme instead- striping it into the butter as the filet sizzled in the cast iron skillet.

It was a delicate process, mainly because he was aiming for as close to rare as humanly possible to achieve. It didn’t give him much time to develop a proper crust, but as Gale spooned the butter back onto the filet, he also pulled from the Weave. Perhaps he asked more than normally would be needed for a simple cantrip. But he needed to infuse all the wonderful things Astarion deserved to taste in it.

Astarion meandered in a few moments later, when Gale had plated it and was intensely overseeing the food resting as if he could personally will it to perfection.

The vampire gave a sharp tut after observing the scene, perhaps annoyed his entrance hadn’t been noted.

“When you said you had a surprise for me to try, darling, I assumed it would be something that would make me interested in swallowing,” the vampire finally said to announce his presence.

Gale looked up brightly at where the playful swatting came from, a warm smile breaking onto his face. He laid the best knife and fork he could find near the plate and pushed it forward.

“Ah, trust me my dear friend,” Gale encouraged. “I do believe I have made some acceptable advances since the last time you tried my cooking.”

That had been back when Astarion was still trying to hide what, and more importantly, who he was. Perhaps it had helped in the long run though. It had taught Gale that Astarion could put a wide variety of things in his mouth and pretend to love it. Later, after sampling a decent red Astarion claimed to be vinegar, Gale had come to the quick conclusion that vampirism negatively affected the culinary practice of taste.

The idea was tantalizing to him. In part because no bestiary had even half the details he could observe in a single evening around Astarion. But he also hoped to reach past the honeyed words for the real truth.

He was curious, in particular, about why Astartion still attempted to drink wine. It said something about appetite that felt vaguely nostalgic to Gale.

But then Tav, who had uncritically eaten up Astarion’s sweet smiles and words at the party, eagerly indulged in their place of origin first. Gale didn't feel hurt that Astarion preferred someone else's straightforward affection over his own questions. The tadpoles had made their timelines risky and fortune favored the bold.

It was a short thing, in the end though. After one encounter, Tav ultimately found her heart lay more with Karlach’s wholesome sweetness. It was better fit for her than wrestling with the delicate halflies that laid nestled to hide half-truths in Astarion’s heart. If it had hurt him, the vampire hadn’t let on, going back to mulling around the camp with hungry eyes and talking of desires.

And once again, Gale was left turning over the dozens of little curious details about appetite Astarion occasionally dropped; trying to lay them out and find the bigger picture. Gale had been too confident of his ability to uncover that truth once again. Astarion’s sudden thrust backing onto the dating scene hadn’t struck him as quite so desperate, but a beautiful mystery he alone could solve.

He was grateful his hubris had at least allowed him the chance of friendship with Astarion. Rather than once again stripping him of everything when he inevitably failed. No, he savored the friendship he was allowed. Even if, quietly, his heart still wanted to give Astarion all the beauty his mind could dream of and his hands could weave.

The food was a meager offering, really, but the wizard was happy to see Astarion shrug and sit down to try it.

Maybe it wasn’t everything Gale had dreamed of in his books to see a bit of excitement build on the man’s face when he delicately sniffed his offering. He was not worthy of giving a thousand days and nights of little pleasures to anyone, it would seem. But, oh, if his heart didn’t flutter a bit at how Astarion’s eyes widened slightly when he gracefully cut into the steak and a weave-enhanced aroma wafted up.

Gale had truly grown to enjoy his time spent in friendship with the pale elf. He was a stellar, if not acerbic, conversationalist. And the only other person at camp that enjoyed books beyond bawdy romances. Astarion was a person Gale could imagine being around every day for decades without it ever becoming boring. Well, assuming Gale wouldn’t be left alone because the vampire wandered off to find more interesting company than a stuffy wizard.

At least for now, sometimes he’d say something clever and elicit a sharp grin. Or he’d make a genuine offer to want to properly introduce Astarion to Tara once this was all over, and something soft would grow on the man’s face before he schooled it away. Hells, even walking around Baldur’s Gate and just commenting on architecture with him made Gale desperate to show Astarion Waterdeep.

It was clear his dear friend had a taste for the finer things in life, but had been left starved. Gale wanted to lay out a banquet for him, to hear his commentary and innovate until he found satisfaction. It was a beautiful thought for the future, but that was a thing still being written.

Gale needed to try and take that joy and give it in lump sum, lest the worst happened tomorrow. There were notes in his pack on leads Astarion could begin searching down for help finding a place in the sunlight, that he’d entrust to a messenger soon. A desperate letter to his mother, hoping she would extend the clan’s aid to his dear friend. A few letters of introduction that Gale prayed would be enough to get Astarion a chance to observe rare books at Candlekeep if he so needed.

In the meantime, Gale had but this moment. Watching Astarion primly take a bite of the filet and chew as if he was a bit out of practice.

This wasn’t the first time Gale had cooked something special for someone - he had a sophomoric idea of what facial expressions to expect. Like always, Astarion didn’t disappoint though with novelty. There was a strange look on his face; emotions roiling so intensely nothing had a beginning nor end.

“This is shit,” Astarion eventually hissed.

Gale offered up open palms, apologetic shoulders, and the broken in, embarrassed smile of a man so used to his reach exceeding his grasp in anything that truly mattered.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “You don’t have to finish it–”

Astarion looked him dead in the eye. When he had Gale's full attention, he stabbed the piece of meat like it had been carved from Cazador himself. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. Hard. Hard enough Gale could hear the cutlery screech in protest.

Astarion was a messy eater- a man of singularly devouring hunger. The blood from the filet trickled down his chin, to his chest, marking him temporarily like Gale’s own source of perverse appetite.

Gale watched him swallow and ruminate.

“This tastes like goodbye,” the man drawled, eyes pinning Gale to his spot. “I don’t like it.”

Gale smiled, trying to ignore the first thing and address only the second.

“Well, sometimes experiments don’t always work out,” he began to affably ramble. “I did believe that a few uses of prestidigitation would help overcome your normally exclusively sanguine diet, but I would still appreciate if you could offer some notes-”

While Gale had been prattling about cantrips, Astarion had decided to switch from rumination to predation. He had gotten up, head refusing to move as he stalked towards Gale like a cat fixated on a songbird. The vampire pounced, slamming the wizard into the cabinets. All it took was a bold hand wrenching one wrist up above his head and a tongue thrust into his mouth to strip him of his power, his self-image as Gale of Waterdeep.

Astarion devoured Gale Dekarios’ mouth, eating up the moans his actions elicited.

After a second or eternity, the poor man wasn’t sure which, Astarion broke away to let Gale pant.

“I want seconds,” Astarion commanded, his other hand running down a thigh- barely keeping to a space that wouldn’t be scandalous if someone walked in.

Gale tried to master his fluttering heart, to let it accept air and nourishment so it would stop screaming in his chest almost loud enough that it drowned out the orb.

“You don’t,” he gasped, licking his lips before trying again. “You said you don’t do seconds.”

That was one of the first, sharp pieces of truth Astarion had flung at him, after their night of gentle love making had cracked through a mask made to suffer only harsh blows.

People don’t use me twice, he had lilted in the morning. After he had time to lick the wounds Gale’s gentle praise had inflicted and compose himself back to untouchable beauty. Go find someone you can wake up with a thousand times.

That was back when Astarion wasn’t sure if he would be free, but Gale was still hopeful a solution was available for his own woes. Now things had changed.

Gale felt the grip on his wrist tighten. Nails that bit into his skin, fearful that without the contact there would be nothing. It was the touch of a man who had rejected the stolen pleasures of ascending, and now wished to ground himself in freely offered affections.

“I didn’t want you to die,” Astarion offered quietly as his body screamed in accordance. “But I am realizing now that not dying is second to living.”

Gale wanted to soothe away the worry on the man's face. To cradle the pressed brow gently and let it entrust all its worries to him. But Astarion held him firm. No matter - Gale always had a clever tongue.

"With the number of threats our group has managed to vanquish in the last tenday alone, I think our odds are very good at succeeding, Astarion."

Astarion laughed, letting go of Gale’s wrist to poke at the site where the orb marked him. “I know this is your back-up plan, Gale. Maybe you’ll blow yourself up if we struggle too much against the Netherbain. Maybe you’ll let Mystra own you to remove it. Or she’ll use it as a threat to bargain against your interest in the Crown. But I am tired of petty tyrants’ wants and demands.”

“She’s a Goddess, Astarion, it’s not remotely-” Gale tried to interject.

Astarion didn’t even dignify that with a verbal response. He simply looked at Gale, eyes flickering from where the orb burned him to his own, violently marked neck. Astarion knew what manufactured pain was, appetites unanswered. It was why they spoke so easily, they shared this perverse second language.

“You deserve a choice too,” Astarion eventually said.

The first kiss in the kitchen was Astarion’s - passionate and aggressive to hide the tenderness it came from. The second was Gale’s - slow and soft, an adventure that ended with being more daring by the hearth. They weren’t so different. Both had left a man gasping for more, a hand traveling to places to hint at encores.

Astarion leaned into the way Gale’s fingers gripped his curls, the pad of his thumb ever so slightly brushing against his ear in a way that would barely be considered scandalous if anyone ever came in.

“What if I wanted to choose a second Mr. Dekarios?” Gale whispered.

Astarion had a talent for saying one thing, but meaning another. It was intoxicating to Gale. The way he could roll his eyes and bring up a lip in a perfect sneer that to an onlooker signaled disgust embodied, a hint of fang and claws coming out. But oh, if the man wasn’t still tender to the touch- a gentle weight that was as inviting as his words were barbed. A secret laid out only for him to discover.

“Well, you should probably get better at cooking, darling. I have no clue how you plan to catch any self-respecting man in your current situation.”

His hungry red eyes glanced down to a plate that was empty.

“I, for one, have standards,” Astarion said softly.

Gale was a man of great pride. It was tempting to press back, to needle the vampire. Perhaps to bring a thumb to wipe up the blood that was still shining on his neck and watch the man lick it off before calling him on the falsehood.

But on second thought, Gale also desperately needed to close his eyes and believe in the magic of being allowed this close again. He leaned his brow to Astarion’s to give a kiss to the naked skin he found. Not to soothe away the way the vampire had his eyebrows furrowed in concern of being seen. But as a promise he loved this too and wanted it just as much as every other part of him.

“I look forward to learning about every single one, no matter how small or obscure,” he promised. “I will ascribe them upon my heart, and treasure each word as a gift.”

Astarion looked at him, searching for the lie. Gale was granted the privilege of watching his eyes grow soft with the knowledge that the wizard was as sincere as he was loquacious.

Then, he had the thrill of watching a vampire who had recently declared he wanted to start living realize he was ravenous.

And that Gale was the perfect second course for this evening and many more to come.

︶꒦꒷❤︎꒷꒦︶

Author Notes: Thank you for reading this! As always, I would like to remind you thirsty folks to hydrate a bit if needed. Although I suppose for this fic, maybe encouraging you to get a snack would be more appropriate!

Please let me know if you enjoyed the pun in the tags. :P

Hopefully this is the start of a solid writing month for me. I'm going to be aiming to put out something each Monday.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfic #bloodweave #fluff #SpinoWrites #yes I do cook a lot #I imagine Gale's love language includes gift giving #I think he learned it from Tara #technically its not blood that comes out of steak when you bite it btw #its myogoblin #But its a protein and iron and looks vaguely like blood so enjoy

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