Chapter Text
Astarion hops down from the driverless tuk tuk and watches it whirr away before lifting the circular device, peering at it curiously. “Coach, where am I meant to go?”
“To the Hub,” the cheery response comes, followed by the image of a map showing his current location, and presumably where this Hub place is. He nods to himself and follows the directions, looking around as he does so at the people milling about as he nears the huge building - most of them in couples, but not all. Large glass panes and brightly coloured metalwork form the majority of the building.
Gaudy, he thinks as he passes through the sliding doors. There are even more people inside. It looks like every single shopping centre he’s ever been in, and he’s beginning to feel slightly let down when the device pings. He pulls it out of his pocket.
“You have a match,” it announces.
“That was fast,” he mutters. It doesn’t respond, just displays a floorplan of the Hub, with a restaurant marked out on the floor above. “Now?” He’s a little perplexed - he’d thought it would at least give him time to explore, check out the facilities that he’d been assured were top quality during that incredibly lengthy welcome session. But no, into the deep end it seems.
“That is correct. You’re expected in five minutes. Your proximity to the meeting point suggests that this is not an unreasonable time frame.” Astarion rolls his eyes and pockets the device again. He checks his reflection in the mirrored wall as he ascends the escalator. Having only expected to attend the welcome session and then settle into his designated residence, he’d worn a rather plain cream light sweater and fitted brown trousers. Just on the right side of smart-casual, although he’d have preferred time to select a proper first date outfit.
He rolls his shoulders and strides confidently into the restaurant, before realising he has absolutely no idea who he’s supposed to be meeting.
He stops and sighs, then digs the device out again and asks it quietly who he should be looking for.
It displays an image - no, not an image - a real-time video of a handsome bearded human with brown eyes and long brunette hair. Astarion watches the video for a few seconds as the man shuffles in his seat, straightening the cutlery and fiddling with the napkins. Nervous, it seems. Astarion is already grinning when he looks up to scan the room for him and finds him almost immediately. He approaches the table from the side and the man startles slightly, yanking at the napkin and sending his cutlery clattering to the floor.
“Smooth.” Astarion’s grin widens as the man gets up and begins gathering the dropped silverware hurriedly.
“Yes, well. I do like to make a striking first impression,” the man responds, straightening and raking his hair back from his eyes, a slight blush betraying his embarrassment. Up close, Astarion can see that his hair, which falls in loose waves to his shoulders, is streaked lightly with grey around his temples. Distinguished, although it’s an indicator of his age.
“Throwing around tableware is definitely a good start,” Astarion says, cocking an eyebrow. The man’s eyes narrow slightly before he breaks into a grin of his own. Something about that smile and the way the deep brown of his irises twinkle has Astarion’s mouth suddenly feeling quite dry.
“Precisely my point! Hello, I’m Gale.” He leans forward with startling speed and grabs at Astarion’s hand, shaking vigorously. Gale’s hand is warm, his skin soft, grip tight — but not like he’s trying to prove a point. He’s wearing tailored charcoal trousers with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough for Astarion to glimpse a hint of chest hair. He tears his gaze away from it to introduce himself.
“Astarion. If you’ve finished wrecking the place, we could always sit?”
Gale cuts him a scathing look, but then his smile creeps back. Astarion finds himself grinning back just as stupidly.
“Yes, that’s enough destruction for now. Maybe I’ll throw a plate later, perhaps a vase if the mood strikes me.” Gale retakes his seat and a waiter comes over to replace the cutlery before Astarion’s even fully slid into the booth across from him.
“Not at me, I hope.” Astarion watches the waiter retreat.
“Not unless things go terribly south,” Gale murmurs, following Astarion’s gaze. “They’re efficient here.”
“So it seems. And throw whatever you like, as long as you aim somewhere other than my head,” Astarion says breezily, “it would be such a shame to ruin my hair.” Astarion turns back to Gale, who is now looking over Astarion’s shoulder with a hint of worry creasing his brows.
“I think we upset the…are those security guards?” Astarion twists to see what he's talking about, and yes…there’s a burly man dressed all in black standing against a nearby wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed. Why in the hells do they have a security presence? Do many dates go awry? He couldn’t imagine why a restaurant would need a bouncer.
“There’s no ‘we’ about it, darling. You’re the one who started throwing deadly weapons.”
“Deadly-?!” Gale starts, then he sees Astarion’s eyes sparkling with mirth and relaxes, smiling placidly. “My apologies. I’ll begin with a spoon next time.”
“Perfect,” Astarion snickers, crossing his ankles beneath the table. “I gather you’re new to this as well?”
“Oh, is that what you think?” Gale leans on the table with one elbow, eyes narrowing. “Perhaps my utter incompetence at, you know, sitting at a table - is what draws in my suitors.”
Astarion snorts rather uncouthly, but he doesn’t even have time to feel embarrassed about it before Gale’s eyes light up, so he rolls with it. “Maybe it is. It’s working on me - I’m fairly sure you might be The One already.”
That makes Gale laugh, and he sits back against the seat grinning widely. “Yes. To tell you the truth, it’s my first time. It’s quite nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”
Astarion wants to say that clearly Gale was finding it nerve-wracking if he was upending half the contents of the table before he’d even said hello to his date, but he doesn’t want the smile that’s crinkling the edges of his match’s eyes to go away just yet, so he purses his lips and nods.
“You’re my first too. I thought it would take longer - I’d only just got here when I received the notification that we’d matched.” He gestures between them and then quirks an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly and dropping his voice to a more sultry tone. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
Gale huffs a laugh and shimmies in his seat, clearly a little flustered. Attractive he may be, and amusing as his shyness is, Astarion decides maybe to not put the full moves on him just yet, and simply see how it goes. He congratulates himself silently on his chivalry.
“There are no menus, so I was wondering if we order through these.” Gale gestures at his Coach device on the table beside his plate. His attempt to change the subject doesn’t escape Astarion.
“Menu choices are pre-selected based on your personal preferences,” it pipes up, at the same time a waiter sets down their plates. Astarion has a frankly huge T-bone steak with chips and a little boat of peppercorn sauce placed in front of him, whereas Gale has a fish dish with roasted vegetables.
Maybe this is their first incompatibility. Astarion’s never been interested in fish. “What is that?” he asks as he picks up his knife and fork.
“It seems to be plaice with beurre noisette, if I’m not mistaken.” Gale’s eyes are bright with excitement.
Astarion suppresses a grin as he cuts into his meat and prepares a bite. “I never was one for fish - I’ve always preferred red meat.”
“I can see that.” Gale eyes his steak appraisingly. “I do like both, but…” he trails off slightly as he watches Astarion take a bite and chew, eyes closing as he enjoys the rich flavour.
Astarion doesn’t see Gale swallow thickly, tearing his eyes away from Astarion’s adam’s apple to look down at his own plate and begin cutting into his plaice. Gale clears his throat quietly and continues. “But I find most foods enjoyable if prepared with the right amount of skill and…”
When Gale trails off again, Astarion opens his eyes. “Are you quite alright?” Gale has now paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and he’s staring openly at Astarion.
“What? Yes. Yes, of course.” Gale clears his throat again a little more forcefully and takes a bite, smiling as the flavours coat his tongue. He chews and swallows. “Delectable - I perhaps expected too little.”
Astarion’s smile widens. At least he’s not getting the impression the interest only goes one way - that’s a good start.
“Well, they know enough about what we like to pre-select our meals. It would be awfully rude to then serve us slop.” Astarion muses as he cuts another slice. “Would you like to try some?”
“I…are we even allowed?” Gale asks, glancing furtively at the guard over Astarion’s shoulder again. He’s no longer paying attention, just scanning the room nonchalantly.
Astarion shrugs. “Why wouldn’t we be?” He holds his fork out for Gale, who smiles uneasily but leans forward to take a bite anyway. Interest pools low in his gut at the way Gale’s lips wrap around the fork. His eyes widen as he tastes the meat, a slow, almost salacious smile spreading as he chews. The meat is tender and perfectly seasoned, but Gale’s expression is ridiculously debauched.
Astarion wonders briefly how he’d look with his lips stretched around something else, but before his thoughts can stray too far in that direction, he notices Gale’s attention has shifted. He’s looking back over Astarion’s shoulder - a guilty look on his face as he sits back and shuffles lower in the seat.
“I am going to hazard a guess that we were not allowed,” Gale mutters, covering his mouth as he chews.
Astarion looks over his shoulder and waves jauntily at the guard, who is now staring daggers in their direction with a hand resting threateningly on what Astarion assumes is a taser at his hip.
“Gods, don’t antagonise them. I don’t want us to get into trouble,” Gale whines quietly, fussing with his napkin again.
Astarion turns back, his cocky grin faltering as he takes in the slump of Gale’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, darling. I don’t plan on getting us thrown out. Not just yet anyway - you haven’t even had time to throw a plate!” That makes Gale chuckle, and then he perks up even further, a thought obviously occurring to him.
“We should look! We should see how much time we have,” Gale rushes out, tapping his device into life on the table. Astarion grins, lifting his hips slightly so he can pull his own out of his pocket. “I think it’s under ‘info’?” Gale continues, picking it up now and swiping away at the screen. “Aha, yes. Oh - we both have to tap at the same time to see.”
Astarion finds the screen Gale was talking about and glances up at his match. It does indeed say they must both tap in sync to view time remaining. “Okay, ready when you are.”
“Alright - one, two, three.” They both tap their screens and Gale’s brow furrows. Astarion stares at it blankly.
“Twelve hours.” Astarion swallows his disappointment. Such a short period of time. He’d thought…well. Surely the system has its reasons. But they were getting on weren’t they? No glaring difficulties that would stop them from continuing for a bit longer. Maybe his aversion to fish was really just that bad.
“Huh,” Gale says quietly, and Astarion can’t deny he’s a little pleased to hear from his tone that Gale is clearly unhappy with this turn of events as well. “Well...” He looks up and meets Astarion’s eyes. “Then I suppose we’d better eat quickly.”
Astarion snorts again, almost hard enough to hurt his soft palate this time. “Don’t want to waste any time?” He glances down at the device, which is now counting down the fucking seconds of their time together. “Gods, I didn’t expect it to count down like that. That’s depressing.”
“Exactly, so eat up,” Gale says, spearing a round of courgette and chewing it with a grin plastered on his face. Astarion rolls his eyes, an unwitting smile spreading on his own lips as he shrugs and begins tackling his steak again.
Over dinner, he learns that Gale is a voracious reader, and writes about the lost art of the arcane as a career. He’s been published in journals all over Faerûn, and some even further afield. He shares that he works in law, but hastily changes the subject when Gale wants to know in what area and with whom.
It's one of his least favourite things to talk about with acquaintances, because most of his clients are not exactly upstanding citizens, and Astarion is extremely good at his job - meaning many of them walk free. But they only have… 10 hours, 37 minutes and 15 seconds left of their time together, so he doesn’t feel like getting into it.
They make their way outside, and another of the little electric vehicles whirrs over to them. “This will take us to the place?” Gale asks as he shrugs on his jacket, his voice wavering slightly as his gaze darts quickly between Astarion and the vehicle.
Astarion shrugs nonchalantly as if his own heart isn’t bouncing erratically against his ribcage. It’s unlike him to be nervous like this, and he taps at his palm with the tips of his fingers - a bad habit that he’d mostly quelled except in situations he’s finding particularly stressful. He flexes his fingers and forces them to keep still. This isn’t stressful, he reminds himself. “I think so.”
They climb aboard and sit in companionable silence, although Astarion can feel the slight edge of nerves fraying beneath his collarbones as the vehicle trundles in near silence along the asphalt. What is going to happen when they reach their residence for the night? Are they expected to have sex? He really should have flirted more at dinner, because now it’s all a question mark and Gale didn’t seem the type to be pushy, but you never really could be sure-
Gale nudges him gently in the ribs and points, blessedly interrupting Astarion’s spiralling thoughts, and they both lean over to look up at the giant wall as they pass close by it. The thing has to be 200 feet tall, and stretches so far that it’s impossible to see where it ends, if it does at all.
“Why do you think it’s so high?” Gale asks under his breath.
“To keep out beholders, gnolls and goblin raiding parties, I assume,” Astarion responds drily. Gale turns to him and sees the grin on his face. He shoves the elf good-naturedly.
“Gods, you are so full of shit.”
Astarion gasps in mock surprise. “Language, Gale! And I thought the filthiest word you knew was ‘pee’.”
“I will strangle you, Astarion. There are no guards out here to stop me.”
“None that you can see, anyway.” Astarion wouldn’t put it past them to be hiding in the bushes, checking that they weren’t doing anything salacious like sharing a bite of food again. “Besides, I’d like to see you try.”
Gale coughs quietly, eyes averted. “I’m sure you would.”
Astarion is about to ask whether Gale always chokes his partner on a first date when the vehicle veers off the path and chimes. “I think we’re here.” He steps off the vehicle and Gale follows silently behind him. “Uh…how do we get in?” he asks as they approach the squat little bungalow.
Gale’s voice sounds strangely tight in the darkness. “There’s a handprint sensor by the door. I read it in the brochure.” Of course he read it in the fucking brochure. He probably read the entire terms and conditions and everything. Astarion did, but he’s a lawyer - it’s his job to read the small print. Gale probably does it for fun.
Gale takes Astarion’s momentary silence as hesitation instead of rude internal commentary. “Do you want to do the honours?”
“No, you go ahead.” Astarion waits approximately half a second before slamming his hand onto the reader. Gale scoffs as Astarion grins wolfishly at him.
“You’re so immature.” Gale pushes the door open slightly. As he does so, some warm light filters out from inside, and Astarion can see he’s smiling. “Oh no…” He closes the door again, brows pinching together.
“What?” Astarion’s heart now seems to want to jump directly out of his mouth. Is he going to be sick? He hopes not. That’s not attractive.
“It’s horrible in there,” Gale whispers, his voice full of disdain.
“Really?” Astarion’s stomach sinks. He doesn’t know what they were going to do when they got into the place, but he didn’t want to have to clear up a shithole - maybe the previous occupants had left it in a mess.
Gale grins. “No, not really,” he says lightly, pushing the door open again. It opens wider this time, and Astarion looks past him to see a cosy little set up. A fire roars in the hearth - almost certainly a hologram, but it looks perfectly real. Comfortable-looking small sofas - he can’t see much beyond that without going inside.
“Fuck you, Gale.” He pushes past the infuriatingly attractive human into the little house and looks around, pretending Gale’s joke wasn’t funny as he lets out a low whistle. The place is small and almost completely open plan - the kitchen is behind him, the bedroom through a large archway to his right. The furniture is stylish and all in complementary muted autumn colours. “This is surprisingly nice.”
“Mhm,” is all Gale musters as he closes the door behind him, shucking his jacket and hanging it up on the nearby coat rack. Astarion feels panic rising again - the man was so verbose over dinner and now he’s not even using words. Oh gods. He'd definitely fucked up, there’s a horrible awkward tension now, all because Astarion hadn’t been on his game like usual. They should have been falling into bed, not impotently standing around in the entrance avoiding eye contact.
“I-I’m going to the toilet,” Astarion says, so quickly he almost stumbles over the words. He walks through the bedroom, another wave of anxious nausea hitting him as he sees the huge, comfortable looking bed. Maybe the crème brûlée for dessert was a bit too much after all.
Despite Gale’s joking insistence that they hurry through dinner, they’d actually lingered quite a while, discussing literature over dessert and coffee. That had been nice, but now they're alone and the sudden pressure of it feels stifling.
He flops onto the toilet lid and pulls out his device. “What are we supposed to do now?” he whispers to it somewhat desperately.
“Query too broad. Please narrow the parameters,” it responds, thankfully lowering its volume to the same one he'd used when he spoke to it. If it had piped up at full volume, he might have had to attempt an escape out of the window to avoid crawling directly into his own arse.
“Are we meant to…have sex?” He feels his cheeks heat. Immature indeed; he feels like an awkward teenager at their first sleepover.
“That is up to you,” the device responds tonelessly. Astarion lets out a breathless laugh, still feeling completely out of his depth. What in the world had he been thinking, seeing how things go ?
Astarion Ancunìn did not ‘see how things went’, he saw, he conquered and he came, and always in that order.
“I mean, is that what people do, when they only have a small amount of time?” Now why the fuck did he care about the time limit? Had The System scrambled his personality?
“There are no prerequisites for any of your matches, regardless of time allocated. You may do what you wish. It is up to you.”
Astarion lets out a shaky breath and leans his head back against the wall. He would normally, wouldn’t he? And it’s not like he wasn’t attracted to Gale. The man’s smile alone… He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut.
It’s decidedly unlike him to not have tried laying it on thick with the flattery and the flirtation but…something about Gale has him feeling nervous and inexperienced. Maybe Gale’s ineptitude had rubbed off on him. He grimaces. Perish the thought.
And he doesn’t want to rush, for whatever stupid reason he hasn’t figured out yet. Even if they only have - he glances at the device again - 8 hours, 1 minute and 12 seconds left. Maybe it’s just because it’s his first match of the system. That must be it, simple first match jitters. He gets up, splashes cold water on his face and stares at his reflection for a while, which never fails to make him feel better.
He makes his mind up, pushes off the sink and pats his face dry with a pleasantly fluffy towel, tweaks one of his curls and nods to himself bracingly.
When Astarion emerges from the bathroom, he leans as casually as he can manage against the archway. Upon noticing his reappearance, Gale panics and almost drops his device, looking strangely guilty with a slight blush colouring his cheekbones. Thankfully in his bashfulness, he apparently doesn’t notice the manufactured preciseness of Astarion’s soft smile in his haste to look away.
“I can, um…I’ll sleep on the sofa,” Gale says quickly, gesturing at the loveseat. Astarion looks between it and him, biting his lip slightly to keep from laughing.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you won’t fit. There’s plenty of room in the bed. I am capable of controlling myself if you are.” He narrows his eyes as Gale starts getting onto the loveseat anyway, trying to make himself fit on the too-small bit of furniture.
Astarion lets out a peal of shrill laughter when Gale thinks he’s made himself look comfortable and gestures with an arm as if to say ‘see, look how comfy this is?’, with his legs bent up far too high and neck cricked awkwardly.
“You’re being stupid. Look, we can keep our clothes on. On my honour, yours will remain intact.” Astarion holds up his hands, showing his palms.
Gale gives him a tentative grin. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure, now get up before you fall off and break a hip or something.”
Gale sits up and glares at him. “Are you suggesting-”
“That you’re old? Yes, darling. Positively decrepit. Your bones may disintegrate if you don’t sleep on a mattress. Osteoporosis is common in humans of advanced age, I’m told.”
“I am not of an advanced age,” Gale says hotly, pointing at Astarion accusingly and standing up. Unfortunately for him and the point he was trying to make, his knees pop as he does so.
Astarion pulls his lips into his mouth to stifle his laughter and Gale looks for a moment like he might actually scream.
“Elves!” He cries exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. One of his elbows cracks loudly this time and Astarion loses his composure completely, almost bent double with laughter. “I swear-”
“Yes, yes, you’ll strangle me,” Astarion gasps out, gesturing weakly at the bed as he attempts to control his laughter. “Now lie down, grandpa, before your heart gives out. That would certainly put a damper on our evening.”
Gale stalks past Astarion, glaring the whole time and huffs down onto the bed. He seems to forget his annoyance quickly when he hits the mattress - it looks soft and yields nicely to his weight. He strokes his hands across the duvet distractedly. Astarion finally composes himself and watches Gale’s fingers smooth along the fabric quietly for a moment.
“Humans are so easily riled up about their age,” he says eventually, walking over and sitting beside Gale.
“Maybe if elves weren’t always taking the piss, we wouldn’t be quite as bothered by it,” Gale mutters, but there’s no annoyance in his voice and Astarion smiles.
“You’re catching us up anyway, what with modern medicine and technology - what are you, sixty-odd?” Gale punches him sort-of-gently in the arm and Astarion laughs, clutching at where he’d hit and rubbing. “Ow, okay, I’ll stop.”
“Can we just go to bed?” Gale mutters, a little petulantly.
“Of course, darling,” Astarion replies, shuffling back to lie down. Astarion notes that Gale’s shoulders tense slightly as he says it, and he wonders idly whether that man is just unused to pet names, or any kind of affection in general. He takes a deep breath and moves back to lie beside Astarion.
This close, he can smell the subtle hints of Gale’s cologne. He smells delightful, like woodsmoke and oud and rich leather. “I wonder if they have clap-on lights.” Astarion claps hopefully. Nothing happens.
Gale rolls his eyes. “Now if anyone’s showing their age, it’s you. Lights off,” he says clearly. The lights go out. He smiles smugly to himself for a moment before remembering Astarion can see in the dark. He quickly rearranges his face into neutrality, but the bed is already shaking with Astarion’s laughter.
“So pleased with yourself, human.”
“I hope you step on a plug, elf.”
“Such violent, depraved thoughts, darling.” He hears Gale’s breath falter slightly, but ignores it.
“Just go to sleep.”
“Can’t.”
“Trance then!” An edge of annoyance in his voice this time, but he can see Gale’s lips are turning up.
“Maybe.” They lie in silence for a while.
“Did you try before this? To meet someone?” Gale asks quietly into the darkness, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. Astarion turns his head to watch the greyscale profile of the man beside him.
That isn’t the easiest question to answer, mostly because it would be simpler to pretend to take the question at face value. He’d met plenty of people, of course. Fucked and been fucked - every manner of depraved carnal desires played out, ad nauseam. But he knows that’s not what Gale is asking. He considers whether to tell the truth, and then decides he might as well. They don’t exactly have much time, so Gale’s judgement wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
“I…never truly sought a connection. Nothing real.” Nothing that could hurt. He had his share of pain from other sources - he didn’t need to add romantic relationships to the screaming cacophony of failures that seem to follow his every move.
Gale nods, remaining silent. Astarion decides it’s not fair that he shared when Gale hasn’t.
“And? Did you?” he pushes, nudging him with an elbow. Gale swallows, blinks. Folds his hands over his chest, then unfolds them. Rakes a hand through his hair, then sighs.
“Once. It…it didn’t end well.” He gives a short, humourless laugh. “Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here.”
Astarion thinks on that for a while. “You got hurt.” Gale nods. His eyes are closed, the thick fan of his eyelashes fluttering slightly. “And you’re here - in the system - to avoid the same thing happening again?” Gale nods a second time, gazing back up at the ceiling again.
Astarion chews his lip. He wants to know more, but it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you should pry into with someone you’re only spending a single night with.
His curiosity isn’t just about what happened to Gale - it’s about the whole thing. The fact he’s always wondered deep down whether he’d even be good for another person is why Astarion’s here. No guesswork required if you’re paired to your Ultimate Compatible Other, is there? The system does all the heavy lifting, and you skip off into the sunset together.
Supposedly.
“You trust this whole process then?” Astarion asks after another short silence. Gale finally turns his head towards him, brow furrowed slightly.
“Of course - 99.8% is one hell of a surety. You’d never be able to be that certain about someone out there.” He gestures vaguely with one hand. Astarion nods, then hums an affirmative in case Gale eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkened room yet.
“I hope it works,” Astarion says off-handedly, stifling a yawn.
Gale’s mouth twitches into a frown for a second. “I’d-” He cuts himself off, then takes a deep breath and continues, facing the ceiling again. “I’d have thought the matches they put us in would be longer. How are we meant to know if it’s only twelve hours?”
Astarion’s brows shoot up. He had been thinking the same thing, but he’s glad he wasn’t the one to voice it first. “I’m sure the system knows what it’s doing. But I agree, it doesn’t seem like enough time.”
Gale gives a small sigh. “No, it doesn’t.” There’s a much longer silence this time. Gale’s voice is very quiet when he speaks again. ”I hope it works too.”
After a moment, with his heart beating ridiculously hard considering it’s such a small gesture, Astarion nudges his hand closer to Gale’s and hooks their little fingers together. Astarion reasons he’s not exactly the hugging type, but he felt he should do something to comfort the man.
Just a show of solidarity, of shared hope. It’s not Gale-specific or anything ridiculous like that.
Neither of them say anything, but Gale’s finger curls around Astarion’s in response. Astarion feels like an idiot for smiling at that, but when he sees that Gale is smiling too, he feels a little bit less stupid.
The next morning, they eat breakfast together and laugh about the guard who was ‘positively incensed’ (Gale’s words, of course - the man has a flair for the dramatic when speaking that Astarion appreciates) at them sharing a bite of steak. It feels…nice. Comfortable. Gale has cooked them scrambled eggs, and Astarion very helpfully stoned and sliced an avocado for their toast. He even added the salt, and is mortally offended when Gale doesn’t present him with a chef’s jacket - he just smiles his thanks, sits down and tucks heartily into the breakfast. Astarion sniffs. It’s for the best their allotted time was so short if he’s going to be underappreciated like this.
Nonetheless, he finds himself glaring at the device when it beeps to let them know there’s only ten minutes of their allotted time remaining.
He furrows his brow as they stand outside the bungalow, watching the time tick down. “I just want you to know,” he says, glancing up at Gale, ignoring the swoop that his stomach makes when their eyes meet, “that if we'd had a little longer, I would have absolutely had sex with you. I just wanted to go easy on you, you know. For your first time.”
Gale’s eyes widen and he fumbles with his device, almost dropping it. “You…bastard. You say that now?”
Astarion grins. “Maybe if we’d had longer.” He frowns down at the device in his hand again. 45 seconds. There are two vehicles trundling towards them along the path from opposite sides of the asphalt.
“I- well. I wish I’d known that . We could have used our time more wisely.” Gale smiles a little sadly and Astarion feels his own mouth pull down of its own accord. “Well, thank you for being my first, I suppose.” He starts to hold his hand out and then seems to think better of it, pulling Astarion into a surprisingly strong hug.
Astarion coughs out a startled laugh. It’d been hard to tell through his button-down, but apparently Gale’s quite well-muscled. He doesn’t even regret not telling Gale that he doesn’t do hugs.
Astarion pulls out of Gale’s enthusiastic clutches. “Thank you for being my first. Sorry we didn’t, you know…” He crudely sticks a finger into where he’s made a loop with his finger and thumb.
Gale grimaces. “On second thought, perhaps it’s for the best if you’re going to be so-”
“‘Immature, about it’.” Astarion grins, imitating Gale’s voice. Gale chuckles, but his laughter fades when the vehicles pull up and their devices chime in tandem to signify that their time is up.
“See you around?” Gale asks, a tinge of optimism in his voice as he steps up into his tuk tuk.
“Hopefully,” Astarion replies as he gets into his. To his surprise, he finds himself rather meaning it.