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“Astarion, you realize this is going to take days of searching, don't you?” Gale looked incredulously around the cluttered room of files and scrolls and books. This was the summary of all the birth, marriage, and death records for Baldur's Gate for the last 300 years, or so the clerk had told him. Well, the clerk had told Gale while Astarion pickpocketed someone, but close enough.
The room wasn't as large as Astarion had expected (frankly, he'd expected something the size of Cazador's dungeons, not that he'd have admitted it), given the size of the city, but gods below, was it crammed to the gills.
“I'm not an idiot, Gale.” Astarion glared, and set down Edgar. He'd brought the cat in case there were any rats.
Also because he liked the animal immensely, and this whole business was going to be terribly boring.
Gale held his hands up defensively. “I wasn't implying you were, only hoping you'd given yourself enough time before Fenora's birthday.”
“They don't know when their birthday is, so yes, we technically have as much time as we need to find something about their past.” Astarion's tone wasn't exactly friendly, but he was already annoyed at having overestimated how organized the documents would be. They appeared to have the occasional decade marked on them but...not in any actual order . Lovely.
Edgar hopped up on a bookshelf. Astarion gave the cat a little scritch and Edgar stretched out and purred. A birth date for Fen seemed like a good idea to look for; he'd tried to convince them to just pick a day but that hadn't gone as planned.
“Hey, your birthday-or... rebirthday?-is next month. Do you want to have a party?” Fen was running their hand through his hair as he read a book. Gods, did he love that feeling.
“Obviously, but when do I get to throw you a birthday party, darling? I promise I'll pick you the most handsome outfit, and I'll have them cater your favorite foods. Oh! And the decorations! I'll have Halsin and Jaheira help, and we'll bring in all your little familiars-” Astarion was so caught up in the excitement of planning a party (he did love planning parties), that it was rather startling when Fen interrupted him.
“I don't have a birthday.”
Astarion frowned. They didn't sound sad or angry or even happy. It was totally neutral, matter of fact, but not in that excited way that Gale used when he recited facts. It was as if they were telling him that they were out of milk. Actually, they had more emotion when they mentioned being out of milk. Fen rather liked milk.
The whole thing felt strange.
“Of course you do. You were born, weren't you? Or are you actually some kind of immortal being because if so, well, actually that would be great.”
Fen sighed, “I guess that's a good point. So...I don't know my birthday.” That sounded sadder. A bit defeated.
Fen didn't know a lot of things about themselves.
“Well then let's pick one. You like the spring and fall, don't you? What about-”
“I can't just pick a birthday!” Fen insisted with a frown.
“Were we not just discussing my own fake birthday?” Astarion had his eyebrow raised, incredulous. Fen's hand left his hair, which made Astarion flinch, ready for a blow he knew wouldn't come. Old habits.
“That's different! Something important happened to you that day and you said you were going to start living again and-it just makes sense!”
Astarion sat up and pouted. “Well...then pick an important day! I want an excuse to get you presents and throw you a party!”
Fen's face softened. “I'll...think about it.”
Astarion settled back in their lap. “Good! Otherwise I'm just going to...start throwing parties at random! And I'll destroy our budget and we'll have to go do mercenary work or something.”
“I don't even know what our budget is.”
Astarion wasn't exactly sure what they were looking for, but he was hoping to find something that might tell Fen more about themselves. He stroked Edgar more as anxiety crept in.
What if he couldn't find anything? What if he spent every day for three weeks looking and had nothing to show for it? Three weeks he could have spent doing something fun with Fenora. Or doing absolutely nothing with them, which was still somehow enjoyable!
But Astarion wanted to do something big for them, something that would be as important as what they'd done for him, if that was possible. And it seemed lately that Fen was more and more bothered by their lack of knowledge about their own past.
“Astarion, this letter is for you,” Fen said, handing him the paper. He studied it.
“Oh, darling, this is likely for us both. It says ‘the Ancunín Household.’”
“But it only has your name.”
Astarion waved the comment off and kept looking through the various invitations they'd received, and the social calendar he’d begun keeping, running through their wardrobes in his head while checking the financial ledgers.
Could someone else do this? Yes.
Did Astarion actually find he enjoyed doing it himself?
Very strangely, yes.
“It's common to address invitations using the household name, instead of first names. They mean both of us; they just don't know your second name.”
“Oh. Well...just tell them I don't have one.”
There was something a bit off about their tone. Astarion looked up, but Fen had already turned and left the room.
“Well, I support you fully, regardless. This is a very uncharacteristic, grand show of devotion. I’m sure no matter the result, Fen will be delighted. I’m quite glad you asked for my help, honestly; this will be a nice break from lecturing.” Gale looked almost excited about the prospect is being stuck in a basement looking through boxes of records. Nerd.
“I mean, you are more of a ‘details’ person, and I'm more of...” Astarion gestured vaguely, “an ‘ideas’ person. Seemed an appropriate use of my resources to allow you to assist.”
He didn’t mention that he’d thought this whole thing would involve just...a letter to the right person or something. Not a godsdamn basement full of half-rotten scrolls. Astarion didn’t really remember being a magistrate, but he hoped it’d been more glamorous than this.
Gale let out a snort. “The understatement of the century, but! I'm happy to help. You are my friend, despite your best efforts to the contrary, and so is Fen. It would be nice to know their birthday so I could get them...” Gale paused. “Well, actually, I'm not quite sure what I'd get them. Books?” He frowned as he looked over the bookcases and cabinets, clearly formulating a plan. Astarion was suddenly immensely glad he'd asked Gale to help.
Well, technically, he'd simply mentioned the plan in front of Gale, knowing the wizard would have some kind of research based insight to give, and then allowed Gale to help when he insisted, but that was close! It was almost like asking! Just less...degrading.
“Honestly, the happiest I ever see them is when I get a present, so perhaps just buy me something pretty.” Astarion scanned the room, overwhelmed by the absolute chaos of it all. Normally he loved chaos, but only the fun kind, not the ‘horrific record keeping when he actually needed those records’ kind. This is where his taxes went. Astarion was bringing this up next time Fen insisted they pay.
“Ha! You would say that, though honestly I think the best gift I could give them is a damned cure for you.” Gale sighed. “Still no luck on that front, I'm afraid. I'm through my own library, and have requests in at Blackstaff and the city library, and then I'm going to see if Elminster will let me search his. And I intend to visit Rolan while I'm in town.”
“Hmm...so, what do you suggest?” Astarion was tapping his foot, impatient. This really was going to take ages; best to start now, before he lost his nerve.
“Well, do you have a general age estimate? I’m terrible at guessing with elves.”
Astarion was prepared for that question.
“They remember being out of the city by the Bhaalspawn crisis, so anything after 1368 can be ignored. Actually, we can probably ignore everything after 1350. They think they were 20 or so when they left the city. And Halsin thinks they're no more than 250 years old, at the very most, and no younger than 125, likely older. They haven’t remembered their past lives in trances for some time, but it's hard to say how many years that means.”
He may have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out how old Fen was, so he could figure out how long they'd live, so he could figure out how long he had to fix his vampirism or make Fen immortal before they...died. Because then he would die. No point in living without them.
Gale hefted a crate of files, careful not to be too rough with it. “This is the first section of the 1210s. I'll start here and work forward. Unlikely they're that old, I think, but we shouldn't totally eliminate the possibility.”
Astarion looked at the shelf in front of him and grabbed a box, setting it on the rather flimsy table crammed against one of the walls. “I've got the start of the 1340s. Or, well...some portion of them.”
"Anything else that would help narrow it? Parents' names, neighborhood, etc?"
Astarion took a moment to think. "They remember their mother being called Amra, and they're sure both parents were wood elves, because people commented on it a lot. You know, secretive, tree-hugging wood elves in actually civilization." It actually was rather odd. Astarion didn't think he'd ever met another wood elf.
“Well, then let’s get to work!” Gale clapped his hands, then seemed to realize something, and produced a pack. “Oh! By the way, Velanna prepared us snacks, lest we forget to eat. Or, well, I believe she actually purchased the snacks. Not much of a cook, though always thrilled by whatever I put together.”
Astarion pulled out a scroll. It appeared to be for a dwarf’s death.
“I don’t eat pastries, Gale. A bit low in iron, shall we say.” Astarion heard Gale digging through a bag, and then smelled...blood? Blood! He looked up. “Did you cut your-no, why do I smell cow’s blood? Rare steak?”
Gale was smiling, holding up a potion bottle. “Velanna crafted a way to keep vials at a specific temperature as part of her research on increasing food supply. Normally she keeps things cold, but this one is the exact temperature of a cow’s body.” He held the bottle out to Astarion to inspect.
“She made me warm blood? Gale, if you don’t marry her, I will,” Astarion purred, snatching the bottle and setting it aside for the moment. He’d just had some blood that morning, Fen’s blood actually, so he’d wait on the snack. "Who knew sorcerers were so ingenious."
“She’s very thoughtful, isn’t she? And exceedingly talented and intelligent. Perhaps she can teach you the spell.” Gale had the most pathetically, puppy-love induced look on his face.
“Hmm, maybe. It's good to hear she's being nice to you. I’d hate to have to restrain Fen from another ill-advised duel if she wasn’t.” Astarion pulled out a few scrolls and laid them out, beginning to look. Human, gnome, human, elf! Ah, no, high elf, and the wrong name.
“Yes...it is rather nice to be really considered, isn’t it?” Gale began looking through the records as well, and for several hours there was only the sound of paper rustling and Edgar knocking things over deeper in the basement.
By the time Astarion had finished 1342, which appeared to have been a real boom year for the Gate, his eyes were nearly crossed, but Gale appeared utterly in his element.
Astarion heard two heartbeats next to his chair, one slow and thready, and looked down to see Edgar drop a rat at his feet, nearly dead but not quite. Astarion gave a wry smile.
“You can have it. I have my own.”
For some reason, Edgar liked to bring Astarion his prey. Fen said that was normal and it was a cat's way of saying you were part of their family. It was also a cat's way of saying you were too incompetent to catch your own food, but Fen assured him cats thought everyone was incompetent. It wasn't personal.
That Edgar brought him creatures on the brink of death was quite sweet, really. The cat seemed to know Astarion preferred live meals. Astarion had spoken with Edgar once or twice, actually, but found he preferred to interpret his body language instead. Unless there was a party, in which case Edgar was an utter delight, completely ruthless in his judgment of the attendees.
Edgar looked at him, seemed to understand, and picked up the rat, trotting off to play with his food.
Gale looked up. “I suppose we should eat and stretch as well. Velanna gets rather annoyed when I forget.” He grimaced. “And then she tells Tara so they can gang up on me, as it were.”
Astarion reached for the bottle of blood, and found it pleasantly warm still. He took a drink of the blood. Not terrible, but not good either. Astarion was getting spoiled from drinking Fenora's blood so often. And the blood of criminals and other ne’er-do-wells. But, better than being hungry, and he doubted Velanna had readily available thinking creature blood other than her own and Gale’s.
Hmmm, well, Tara, but that would probably be a bit... awkward now that Astarion had Edgar. What would a Tressym even taste like? Chicken? Or cat?
Gale interrupted his musings.
“How are things with Fen and you, generally? Still a blissful domestic existence, I assume?”
Astarion put on a look of distaste. “Ugh, it's utterly disgusting. They like to have me sit with them while they try to bake things, and we still read together-they love that book about Elminster you gave us, by the way-and they've been very carefully planning a trip for us to visit Halsin and his little gremlins, making sure we have plenty of places to stop and rest in shade during the day, the usual." Astarion waved his hand dismissively.
Gale smiled broadly. “And?”
“And I've never been happier in my entire unlife! It's terrible! And wonderful.” Astarion sighed. “They're wonderful.”
“I'm glad to hear it, my friend. You deserve some peace.”
“Oh, I'm not sure I'd go so far as to call it peace . I'm still murdering as much as possible. Turns out I can kill all I want as long as it's the right people: criminals, villains, the like.” Astarion smiled, finishing his blood and resuming his search.
“Of course you are,” Gale sighed. “Well, as long as it's not petty criminals.”
Astarion sighed. “No, Fen only lets me go after thieves if they steal from the poor or refugees or whatever. Then I get to kill them. Well, I get to maim them. A little.”
Fen and their 'morals' and 'sense of proportionality' or whatever. At least they were still a little fun.
“Well, look at you on the straight and narrow. I suppose you only go after the truly villainous now?”
“That's the gist of it, honestly. Pedophiles, rapists, abusers, serial murderers, that sort.” Astarion let out a short laugh. “Oh, this poor woman was named Abstinence. That's just cruel.” Astarion looked up, expecting to see Gale smiling at that, or maybe a bit indignant about making fun of some dead woman, and saw Gale frowning instead.
“I'm surprised there's many of that sort left, with your efficiency with a blade.” Gale was clearly trying to make light of the situation, but failing.
Astarion snorted, too bitter to even attempt a laugh. As if that kind ever diminished. "If only."
Astarion walked the streets, enjoying the freedom to wander about as he pleased, even if only at night. No victims to hunt, no curfew to meet. It was glorious.
Fen was chatting with someone-maybe one of those Ironhand gnomes? Unclear-and he was...’browsing’ the windows and gardens of wealthier estates in the area. If nothing else, he could find some nice flowers for Fen. They liked flowers.
Astarion heard two heartbeats suddenly, and turned. No, not Fen...they were a ways off now. Someone closer. A naturally quick heartbeat and a slower one, both sped up. A child and an adult? Scared? Ugh, if another one of the damn vampire spawn had crawled out of the Underdark...
Astarion sniffed the air, and followed the sound, smelling something...off that he couldn't quite place. He rounded the corner to an alley.
A human man bent over a half elf child, perhaps 13 or 14 at most, his arms trapping them against the wall.
“I don't want it here in the alley. Come with me and I'll triple what you asked.”
That sounded very, very familiar.
The child shook their head. “I don't go inside, only out here.”
Astarion didn't even remember drawing his blade.
“I hate to interrupt-what am I saying, I love to interrupt-but if you're asking that child what you appear to be asking, I'll be killing you.”
The child froze, and the man stood up. The man started to speak and Astarion completely ignored him.
Astarion looked at the child. “It's alright dear, I'm not angry with you. I won't hurt you.”
The child looked between the two of them, and apparently decided Astarion was the safer bet. Ironic, and a very poor reflection on the sick bastard in the alley, that a vampire spawn was the safer choice in this situation. The child tried to run behind him, but the human grabbed them.
So Astarion buried a dagger in his throat, doing his best to keep the child out of the blood spray. Children supposedly didn't like blood spray, Fen and Halsin had informed him. They did, however, like being taught to pick locks, so Astarion usually stuck to that.
Astarion grinned at the dying man, showing his fangs as he heard footsteps coming.
“Do you see these?”
The man gurgled through the blood, new fear in his eyes. Astarion’s grin twisted into something feral.
“You know what I am. And I'm going to let you bleed out on the stones, because even a starving monster won't touch you. Think about that as your soul enters the hells.”
The man's expression remained terrified as Astarion watched the life drain from the bastard with what he could only describe as glee.
When he turned back, he saw Fen and the gnome, with Fen offering the child some gold and food, so they could buy a room somewhere, and explaining they would come by and take them to Halsin. The child nodded, clearly overwhelmed, but eating the snack Fen gave them. The gnome went with the child, being shorter and less threatening. Fen had always said she liked gnomes and halflings as a child; they seemed safer, and had rarely been ‘clients.’
It drove him mad that Fen still even used that word. Fucking ‘clients,’ as if Fen hadn't been a child just like the one here.
Fen looked at the man on the ground, all the blood, and then at Astarion's face. At Astarion's completely clean mouth, he realized. They looked so relieved as they spoke.
“I love you.”
A few days later, and Gale and Astarion once again found themselves looking through documents in a moldy basement. Astarion was ready to set the damn place on fire, but he really did want to find something for Fen. It was probably too damp to catch fire anyway. Unfortunate.
“Astarion, will your birth certificate be in these records?” Gale’s voice was jarring after the long silence of the morning.
“Oh, no, I wasn't born in Baldur's Gate, or I don't think I was.” He flipped through more papers. Ugh, he'd seen one wood elf this whole time. At least that would make it easy to narrow down. “Cazador never turned long-time locals; too many questions when we popped back up.”
“I thought you were a magistrate? Didn't people notice when you reappeared?”
“Do you know what any of the magistrates in Waterdeep look like? And if you did, would you recognize them in the dark with red eyes and more pallid skin? Do you like any of them enough to care if they died?” Astarion was in the 1330s now, at least. He was getting quicker at spotting what mattered.
“Ah, well...yes, fair point there.”
They worked in silence for a time.
Gale sighed suddenly. “While I'm very happy to help you, I find myself missing Velanna, even though I see her every night. Is that pathetic? No, don't answer that; I already know what you'll say.”
Oh, this might be a wood elf! No, it wasn't Fen, and too young to be Fen's mother...
“Of course it's pathetic,” Astarion answered, ignoring the second half of what Gale said. “You're frequently pathetic, with your poetic flattery and your big puppy eyes.”
“But?” The sound of paper shuffling. “And you're one to talk about puppy eyes. I've seen the look you give Fen when you want something.”
Godsdamn Gale. He knew Astarion too well.
“I have no idea what you're talking about. I can’t help being so beautiful that people just do what I want.” He paused. “But...I suppose I miss Fen too,” he muttered. “We normally trance in the morning and spend the rest of the day together.”
Dwarf, gnome, halfling, gods what was with this run of short races? Human, human...
“What do you two do all day, since you need so little sleep? And do not say ‘depraved, carnal sex,’ because I know that's not all of it.” Gale actually did a rather admirable impression of Astarion, when he wanted. Not as charming, but really, who was?
Astarion pouted, whining. “But the depraved, carnal sex is the most fun to talk about.”
Gale raised an eyebrow. “I know you both far too well to think you actually have sex every single day for several hours.”
“Are you suggesting I'm not capable of several hours of daily sex?” Astarion asked, hand over his chest, scandalized. How dare he! Astarion had a reputation to uphold.
“Cut the crap, Astarion. I know very well what you're capable of after all that travel in flimsy tents; I also have a good idea of what you actually want, and it's not that.” Gale gave him a pointed look, putting three stacks of papers and scrolls into different boxes, sorted by type. Nerd.
Astarion’s face crinkled in annoyance. “Fine. We read, I sew, Fen bakes and gardens. They blacked out a portion of the green house glass for me so I could join them, and put low light plants there. Of course I don't actually garden, but the thought is appreciated.”
“Far be it from you to do manual labor,” Gale snorted.
“Exactly,” Astarion agreed, choosing to ignore his tone. “Sometimes we spar in the foyer, since it's so big. I've been learning to play the piano, and Fen is learning to speak Elvish. Occasionally we have friends over, or visit the Underdark for a few days to check on the spawn.”
“How are the spawn?”
“Had to kill quite a few. I chose victims that were criminals and monsters as often as possible, and I think at least Aurelia did the same, so clearly they were a problem. But plenty of others are doing fine, and they seem happy enough given...” He gestured vaguely. “everything. Petras is still an idiot, no surprise there. Tried to drain one of those mushroom people, which luckily they found more amusing than anything. He only succeeded in drinking a bunch of spores that made him communicate with them for a few hours, which was hilarious.” He paused. “The Gur visit their children. They've decided not to kill them, which is good for the Gur, because Fen might have killed them to protect the kids. Not that I would have minded a bit of belated revenge.”
Astarion was silent for a long time before he spoke again.
“I feel bad for the children.”
Gale looked over at him. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It didn't matter whose fault it was; it happened.”
“Maybe we'll find a cure someday,” Gale offered, but he only sounded a little hopeful.
“Maybe.”
He returned to the papers in front of him.
Dwarf, tiefling-that was new-high elf, human, human, human....
Two weeks. It took them two weeks to go through every godsdamn record in that dank, hellish little room, and they'd found nothing . Not a scrap of information. The closest they'd gotten were a handful of death certificates for female elves of undetermined subrace that had “A” names, which Velanna had dutifully recorded (in very lovely handwriting). She'd taken to popping in once a day during the second week to check progress and do some boring task next to Gale for a time.
It was sweet that she missed Gale, not that Astarion would admit it. But he was glad his friend had someone to love who wasn't a high and mighty bitch. Fucking Mystra. Apparently too busy fucking her Chosen to ever intercede on Astarion’s behalf over the last 200 years. And then her only idea was to blow Gale up to fix the whole Absolute business? Worthless, just like the other gods.
Even with the few ‘A’ names, none of the certificates listed next of kin, or anything else, and it seemed as though certificates were often only filed when someone had assets that needed to be distributed. Most of the names on the documents were patriar families, nobility, or wealthy merchants, sometimes criminals. Astarion recognized many of them.
“You made a valiant effort, my friend,” Gale said, patting him on the shoulder
“A fat lot of good it did,” Astarion grumbled, petting Edgar to calm himself.
“Perhaps Fen was born outside the Gate, or their family was too poor to record anything. Still, it was a good idea.” Gale gave him a comforting smile as he opened a portal back to Waterdeep.
So Astarion trudged back home after the last document was put away and the sun had set, short list of possible mothers in hand, Edgar trailing him. He meowed sympathetically.
When Astarion pushed open the door and kicked off his shoes (then begrudgingly put them in their proper place by the door; Fen disliked a messy home and it was the least he could do, he supposed), he heard Fen call out to him.
“Astarion? Is that you?”
He wasn't sure who else it would be, frankly, but bit back the response. Instead he called back “yes” with as little enthusiasm as possible.
Fen entered the foyer, petting Edgar as he threaded through their legs, before giving Astarion a little kiss on the forehead. He sagged even more; he was never going to be able to repay them for all of...this. They were never going to be even.
“What's wrong, starshine? I haven't seen you this depressed in a long time.”
“Nothing, pet, just... didn't get the results I'd hoped for in something.” He couldn't even bring himself to show them the names.
Fen stroked his cheek. “Your hunt in the records center didn't turn anything up?”
Astarion's head snapped up. “How did you-”
Fen looked at him flatly. “First, you're a terrible liar and you always have been.”
“I'm an excellent liar!” How dare they! Astarion was a consummate charlatan.
“Not to me, you aren't. Maybe to a stranger, but I know all your tells.” Fen was smiling now. “I mean, you told me you were helping Gale plan a surprise party for Velanna. She doesn’t even like surprise parties, and you didn't have a date. I think you need like, at least a date and a location to plan anything.”
Shit. Astarion hadn’t thought about any of that.
“Oh, plus Edgar let slip he'd been in the records center. Wouldn't tell me why, though, just that he'd caught a lot of rats.”
Astarion deflated even more; gods, he was so stupid. And his cat was a godsdamn snitch. “I can't do anything right at the moment, it seems.”
“What? Oh no! No, starshine, that's not what I meant at all! No, no, come here, come on, let's go lie down. I missed you during the day.. I'm so glad you're back.” Fen scooped Astarion up in their arms with ease, and he relaxed against them. Might as well enjoy their touch while he could. Eventually they'd see what an utter failure he was at this whole... “relationship” thing.
Fen took him up the stairs and laid him in their shared bed, crawling in next to him and pulling him close. “What's wrong, princess?”
Fen somehow managed to call him ‘princess’ while seeming totally sincere, and not remotely mocking. Like Fen was saying he was their idea of a fairytale, and not calling him spoiled or prissy. Which was good, because really, if anyone was making him spoiled, it was Fenora. They were so ridiculously indulgent that sometimes he wanted to shake them. One time he'd asked for a pony just to see if they'd say yes.
They hadn't said no, just that it would mean boarding the horse and regular visits to the countryside, and that they'd need to look into the best stables first. Also did he have a specific breed he wanted? They'd rather find an older horse if he wasn't going to ride much, since it would just be a pet. But if he wanted to ride, they'd find a specific breed if he wanted. Did he need riding lessons? They'd have to find someone who would teach him at night.
He'd finally told Fen he was joking, afraid he'd actually come home to pony. The utter idiot.
The ridiculous, perfect idiot that he loved more than anything. Ugh.
“I was hoping to do something for you, something big and...I don't know, special, but I failed miserably.” Astarion curled up against them anyway. Pathetic, to seek comfort from the person he couldn't even give a proper gift to, but what else was new?
“What were you going to get me in the records archives?” They seemed curious. “What's even in there?”
“Your birthday, or...I don't know, your second name, your parents’ names. Something you'd lost. You’ve done so many damned things for me. I just...wanted to do something big for you.” He grimaced a bit, uncomfortable with the admission.
Fen looked briefly confused, then their face softened and they gave him a tender kiss. “Oh, Astarion...that's, gods, that's so sweet and thoughtful. Thank you.”
“Ugh, don't thank me. I didn't even find anything.”
Fen still seemed happy. “But you spent so much time looking! Starshine, I can't believe you did that for me; that was so much work. You're wonderful.” They held him tightly. “It's okay that you didn't find anything; there wasn't much chance you would. But it means a lot that you tried.”
Astarion reluctantly returned their embrace, still feeling like he didn't deserve it. “Only you could turn a colossal waste of time into some kind of grand, romantic gesture. And...Gale did help.”
They pulled back, bemused by his response. “You noticed that it bothers me sometimes not to have a birthday or a full name or know my own parents’ names. Then, you tried to give me those things, and you asked for help from our friend. That...is romantic?” Their head tilted. “Isn't it? I think it is. It's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.”
“Darling, you've lived in the woods most of your life; it's not like I had much competition.”
“I dunno, racoons are pretty nice.” They grinned at him. He softened a little, and let himself relax. Well...it didn’t feel like he’d done anything worthwhile, but if Fen wanted to think so, he wouldn’t stop them.
An idea popped into Astarion's mind.
“You know...perhaps, if you wanted to, you could...use my second name. Since I know mine. And we couldn't find yours. We're together, after all; it makes sense, living in the same house and such." He paused, trying to measure their reaction, but Fen's face was difficult to read.
Shit.
Shit.
He kept talking, hoping he could couch this a bit in case Fen hated it. They probably hated it. Gods, what was he thinking?
"Only if you want, of course. But I mean, we do live together, and we have the house bank account, so it makes sense to have a household name, for administrative purposes, of course, as well as invitations. Though it's up to you, really; I know you don't care much for that sort of thing. The parties and formalities, that is.” Astarion;s attempt at a flippant tone just came off anxious. This was a terrible idea. Why had he even said anything? If Fen really wanted a surname they could just pick one, there was no need to use his! Why would they even want to? It’s not like he had anything to offer. Gods, he was such an idiot! Astarion braced himself for the dismissive laughter, the sneer, all the things that had come with his stupid suggestions for 200 years.
You stupid boy, always prattling on with nothing to say. Did you not learn your lesson in the crypt, child? No one is listening.
But Fen's voice came out slow and confused. “Astarion...are you...asking me to marry you?”
Astarion panicked.
“No! Well, I-that's not to say-if I had to marry someone, it would be you, my sweet. Of course it would be. I mean, who else would it be? But I hadn't-...shit.” He looked at them hesitantly. “Er, am I?”
Fenora burst out in nervous laughter.
“Oh, gods, I'm sorry-I just-it's fine, it's good! Great! I didn't-well, not that I'd say no, it's just not something I'd considered, but-” They took a breath, and smiled awkwardly. “We're bad at this.”
Astarion let out a sigh of relief, a short, anxious laugh. They weren't going to leave. They weren’t laughing at him, they weren’t sneering, there was no disgust.
“Speak for yourself. I was being completely normal; you're the one that turned it into a marriage proposal,” he grumbled, annoyed with himself for being so anxious now that it was safe.
Fen pressed their forehead against his. “I would love to use your name. I want people to know that we're...a pair. A family.”
“I want that, too.” Astarion realized he actually did, desperately. He wanted everyone to know that not only was Fen his, but that he was theirs. It was the strangest feeling; it made him a bit uncomfortable. But the idea of tying Fen to him somehow felt...safe? Even if it meant tying himself even more to them. Maybe...especially if it did?
Well, as good a time as any to make a joke and ignore whatever was going on inside him.
“Because everyone should know they don't stand a chance with you. Look at me!” Astarion let out a little huff and gestured towards himself. “I mean, really.”
Fen grinned. “I'm looking. I look at you as much as possible, actually. You're beautiful.”
“I am! And look at you! You're utterly devastating, so clearly I won't be looking elsewhere. Best to let people down up front.”
“Of course. Very thoughtful of you.”
“And I hate all those sycophants at those damned parties always flirting with you as if you aren't already going home with the best looking person in the room,” Astarion pouted. The patriars rarely seemed to respect Fen's polite refusals, either.
“I know you do. That's why I always talk about how beautiful you are and how good you are at stabbing people,” Fen assured him.
Astarion put a hand on his chest, genuinely touched. “Aww, pet, that's so sweet.”
They smiled, and then their mouth twisted a bit in thought. They spoke slowly as they continued. "Fenora Ancunín. Fen Ancunín." They nodded, resolute. "I like it."
If his heart beat, it would have skipped one at the sound. Astarion was filled with more emotions than he could possibly name, all tangled up inside his chest. It was nearly overwhelming, but he thought that most of what was there felt...good.
Astarion stretched forward and kissed them, tentative and light. He couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Fen wanted people to know, wanted everyone to know, that they were with him . He probably shouldn't be surprised; Fen and he had a household bank account at the Counting House, they discussed any major decisions together, and they were both on the deed to this place. They both clearly saw this relationship (Astarion was quite proud of himself, able to call their relationship what it was without panicking, finally) as a permanent or very long term arrangement. Why was he surprised at all? Why had he even been nervous?
Hells, Fen had held him while he cried so many times, and he'd held them as they struggled slowly through book after book, practice sheet after practice sheet, learning at 200 (or something) what most people knew at thirteen.
But he still had thoughts, deep down. Still thought he was unlovable, unworthy, vile somewhere in his soul, or whatever a vampire spawn had in its place. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, even if he knew, logically, that he'd probably have to force Fen to leave him. As in physically drag them out the door after knocking them out.
Knowing something didn't get rid of the fear, though.
He knew Fen felt the same things sometimes, that they were unlovable, broken, vile (utterly ridiculous. Who wouldn't love them?). Maybe that's what made this work.
Or maybe Fen really was an idiot and hadn't realized that Astarion was just a pretty face hiding a complete clusterfuck, but he thought that was a bit less likely.
Fen returned his kiss, and he could feel the smile on their lips. When they pulled back, their eyes were shining, but their expression was so warm.
“I love you, Astarion. More than anything.’
Astarion closed his eyes, savoring the words. He believed them, finally. It had taken so long, but he was sure now that they really did love him. Usually. Six days out of ten, at least, which was pretty good, all things considered. And this time was one of those six days.
“Can I...can I show you how much? Physically?” Their voice was tentative, a whisper in his ear. A question that could always be answered with ‘no.’
It surprised him. Fen...very rarely initiated. Not that they didn't want him (who wouldn't? He was gorgeous), but they never wanted him to feel pressured. Astarion had only recently left another extended period where he'd been unable to have sex without-what had Gale called them?-flashbacks, though it was shorter than prior...relapses, he supposed they'd be called.
Fen's love and patience had been so unfailing . They only cared that he was upset when it happened; they never held it against him, ever. It was still almost unfathomable to him that someone could want him for anything other than sex, but Fen did. They wanted him for him, over and over, whatever he had to offer. It was nearly infuriating how fucking understanding and patient they were all the time. How was he supposed to even attempt to match that? A wretched thing like him, flinching from touch?
But gods, did it ever feel good when they just held him.
When they gave him space and never punished him for it.
When they treated him like he was perfectly normal.
All that was what had driven him to search those godsdamn archives in the first place.
Here, now, though, Astarion certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of their body against his, skin on skin, sweat and sex and blood.
“What did you have in mind, my sweet?” he purred, trailing a finger along their neck.
Fen paused for a moment, seeming to consider what to say. “I, well...would you let me use my mouth? And then maybe I could be inside you? Or the other way; I like that, too.”
The first part gave him pause. Fen had a very unpleasant past when it came to giving oral sex. In fact, Astarion could perhaps count on one hand the number of times they'd done that for him, and it had almost exclusively been before he'd... known. Not that it bothered him. Frankly, it was a little odd to be in the receiving end of a blow job.
“Are you sure, my dear? You don't have to.”
Fen nodded, “I want to.”
Astarion smiled slightly. “You'll tell me if you need to stop.” It wasn't a question. “Three taps, or just push me, or anything.” He touched their hand. “Any hesitation, darling, promise me.”
They nodded. “I promise.”
With that out of the way, Astarion smirked. “And don't you dare let me finish in your mouth; I'm going to come on that delicious, muscular chest.” He traced his hand over their torso to emphasize his point. Astarion really did love this whole shape-shifting business.
Fen put on a look of mock seriousness. “Understood.”
Astarion felt a familiar, soft smile creep across his face.
“You idiot. Come here.” Astarion pulled them down for a kiss that quickly became rough and needy. His fangs bit their lip and Fen grasped at his clothing as he sucked the small drops of blood. Fen pressed their hips against his and Astarion moaned. Their cock was already hard, pressing against his body insistently, giving him the delicious feel of friction. He wanted Fen like he'd never wanted anyone else. Just the feel of moving against them, pressed close, tongue tasting their lips and blood while his fingers ran through their hair...gods below he wanted to fuck them within an inch of their life.
Fen apparently felt similarly.
In their desperation, Astarion and Fen’s shirts were half removed, neither willing to disconnect from the sloppy, frantic kisses long enough to really take them off, trousers unbuttoned and underwear pushed down as Fen's hand wrapped around both their cocks, stroking as Astarion moaned and Fen whimpered.
The two of them were making out and humping like teens in a back alley and it felt fucking amazing. It shouldn't. It should be at most pleasant, maybe hot if he was drunk, but not...gods, not “short circuit his ability to think” amazing. A part of his brain always protested when Astarion felt utterly feral for Fenora over nothing, over a kiss or a touch or a look, when he'd fucked thousands of people. Thousands. What made this different, it asked?
That part of his brain was a fucking idiot.
Fen had wanted to do something, hadn't they? He couldn't even remember. Didn't care. Had totally forgotten what had led to this point. Astarion had never been one for planning anyway.
Fen's fingers were smearing precum along his length as they stroked, and Astarion moved from their mouth to their ear, biting and sucking, earning him a moan and a stutter in the movements of Fen's hand. Astarion moved to their neck, wanting so badly to bite. Had he bitten them recently? He didn't think so but it was hard to remember with Fen’s fingers around his cock and their lips on his neck.
“Pet, gods, I-I'm way too-” Astarion was on the edge. Pathetic, from a bit of frotting, but he'd missed them terribly these last two weeks. He was so needy, but at least Fen was, too. That made it feel less pitiful.
“Me too, but...feels so good ,” Fen whined, but their grip loosened, before falling away completely. They were panting, leaning against him. “We should...we should take our clothes off, at least.”
Hm, that was a good point.
Fen was already yanking their shirt off, so Astarion followed suit, pinning them the second he’d pulled everything off, grinding against them and sucking marks into their skin.
He was easily rolled onto his back, however, though Fen moved slowly enough that his mind had time to adjust. Too quickly and he, well...it wasn't ideal, they'd discovered in the course of their time together.
“I love when you're like this,” Fen whispered, nipping his ear. “When you want me this badly. When it's-when it's real.”
Astarion knew what they meant. It hurt Fen's feelings a bit, they confessed, that sometimes he would fall back into putting on a show. He'd gotten much better about it, but 200 years of habits die hard. Fen wanted Astarion to trust them enough to be honest, even if honesty meant he wasn't able to get interested like he’d thought.
Fen's tongue on his throat made him gasp, lips worrying a mark into his flesh before moving down his torso. Astarion let out little whimpers of pleasure as they went, enjoying the touch but very much wanting them to get to the main course already.
“Darling, I appreciate the build up but-” he took in a sharp breath as they kissed his thigh, fighting the desire to buck. Fuck, he had missed this. He had missed them. That orange peel soap sweetness on their skin, their gentle fingers on his flesh. He'd been so absorbed with his stupid search that he'd just tranced when he arrived home, cuddling up against them.
Fen wrapped one hand around his length, the other gripping his thigh, and began to slowly stroke. Their tongue ran over the tip of his leaking cock, a soft hum elicited as they tasted it. Fen smirked up at him.
“Is that better?”
Astarion wanted to snap at them to stop teasing already, but his words came out a whine. “You know what I-shit, Fen-”
Whatever else he was going to say devolved into moans as Fen's mouth worked him. Their tongue pressed against his length; their fingers ran along the sensitive skin between his legs. Astarion felt his cock hit the back of their throat as they sucked him, and he fisted the sheets, not wanting to touch Fen's hair. He grasped for one of their hands instead, a grounding feeling.
Gods did it feel amazing, but-
Astarion still wasn't used to being the...focus of pleasure during sex. Oh, Fen was always attentive and he certainly always enjoyed it (fine, more than enjoyed it), but it still felt strange. Vulnerable in a way his mind fought by trying to detach even though he knew Fen was safe. That Fen wouldn't use this against him.
His nails dug into their hand as Astarion tried to stay present. Ha! Present? During sex? The idea still made him want to laugh. Or cry. He wasn't sure which.
A calloused hand touched his face. Astarion realized his eyes were closed, and Fen was leaning over him, looking concerned. When had that happened? Shit. Had he lost time? That hadn't happened in a while.
“I don't want this if you don't, starshine. I never want this if you don't,” Fen whispered, watching him with concern all over their sweet face.
“I do want it! ...I think? No, I do, I just-” Astarion hesitated. How did he explain this?
Oh no darling, your mouth is almost enough to make me consider an offering to one of the gods, but I'm afraid I'm too fucked up after 200 years of coercion and torture to actually be able to enjoy it because I can't experience my pleasure without floating off.
Hmm. No, that wouldn't work.
Fen's head tilted, then a light seemed to go on in their head. “It's hard to be the focus?”
“Yes,” he sighed. Gods, it was so much easier to do all this with them. Fen just...understood. Astarion touched their face. “I do want you, pet.”
Fen smiled a bit smugly. “I know.”
“Aren't you the confident one?” He huffed, but Astarion felt himself calm a bit. “Maybe another way?”
Fen nodded, and reached for the side table, producing some oil, a question. Astarion nodded, and they watched him, patient.
“Do you want to do something together? Or separate?” they asked.
Astarion considered. Masturbating next to Fen was pretty fun... but he really did want to ride them. That felt utterly delicious.
“Together. On your back, darling?”
Fen tilted their head. “Can I sit up? So you're on my lap? I like that a lot.”
“That sounds...nice, actually.” It did. Astarion loved being pressed up against their body while they had sex. It felt very...hm, intimate, he supposed was the best word.
Fen brightened. “Good! Now...can I help get you ready?”
“How could I say no?” he purred, and crawled into Fen's lap as they settled on the bed. "And that is a yes, by the way, before you ask."
They just smiled.
Fen's oiled fingers brushed against his hole and Astarion immediately pushed his hips back. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said he wanted Fen. He craved them terribly, an ache that made no sense and scared him. Terrified him, if he was honest. But Fen never used it against him. It was so strange and frightening and he thought maybe wonderful.
Fen's finger breached him and Astarion moaned, working his hips as best he could against them. If it was possible to finger someone's ass lovingly, then Fen managed it. Which was wonderful, but gods dammit, Astarion wasn't some virgin and he wanted to be fucked already!
Fen kissed his neck, humming against his skin as they worked him open with an agonizing slowness. Astarion whined, but Fen shushed him with a hot, hungry kiss.
A second finger teased him, and Astarion arched his back, pressing against it only for Fen to pull it back. He needed more, more of Fen. He pressed his head against their shoulder and whimpered.
Fen finally added a second finger as they spoke and Astarion moaned so loudly he was actually a little glad they didn't have servants. As much as he adored teasing in public, Astarion found he was oddly private about the act of sex itself, now that he could be.
Well, usually. The graveyard had been the exception. Oh, and that store room at the tavern, but it had been so loud there and everyone has been ridiculously drunk, it may as well have been private. And they'd locked the door.
The point was that now he had the option, and he often chose to be private. At the moment he wanted Fen all to himself, wanted this to be just for the two of them.
Fen’s skin was warm under his hands, and he dug his nails in and whined.
“More, Fen, gods, please.”
With anyone else, this kind of talk would feel pathetic, needy, embarrassing. With Fen, it felt...good, somehow. Maybe it was the way they kissed him, hungry and hot, after he said it, or the way their pupils dilated and their pulse thrummed under their skin when Astarion begged for them. Maybe it was knowing their secrets like they knew his, or the way they held him and touched him like he was something beautiful and unbroken, like he was whole.
Or maybe it didn't matter, as long as they fucked him because he was leaking and desperately hard. When Fen obliged him with a third finger, spreading them inside him and stretching him, Astarion buried his head against their neck and bit down, and he felt Fen shudder with pleasure.
The blood began to pool and Astarion sucked and lapped at the wounds as Fen fingered him and his cock brushed up against their stomach and then they hit just the right spot and he moaned their name around the blood in his mouth.
“That feels good?” They asked, voice soft against his ear, slowing their movements to a snail’s pace like an absolute monster. What in the hells was wrong with them? Teasing him like this? It was criminal. They belonged in prison.
Astarion thrust back his hips to force the issue, eyelids fluttering as he got the right angle.
“No, I'm-mmm-fucking your fingers-shit-because I hate it,” Astarion countered, attempting a sarcastic tone and failing miserably between gasps and moans. He tried glaring at them instead but it was almost certainly not working. He felt utterly debauched and he was sure he looked it.
Fen smiled and gave his shoulder a quick kiss. “Alright, I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”
“I've been ready for ages! Just put your cock in me already!”
Astarion wasn't pouting.
He wasn't.
Fen laughed, but they removed their fingers and pulled him close, kissing Astarion before grabbing the oil and slicking their length, though it was already leaking as much as his own. Astarion huffed impatiently, even if he was grateful for how gentle and considerate they were. It was all very sweet, but if he thought about how careful they were with him, how thoughtful and kind and loving, his eyes would start to water and he’d feel all these overwhelming emotions and it was a whole thing.
Because that was his life now. He got very close to crying (and maybe sometimes cried a little, but in a very upper class way, like-...alright, fine, he just cried) when he thought about how much Fen loved him, how gentle they were with a wretched, broken thing like him.
So he didn't think about that, he thought about how badly he wanted Fen inside him and how utterly, blissfully wrecked he was going to be after this.
Astarion finally swatted Fen's hand away and grasped their shaft, lining it up and taking it in with a strangled moan of pleasure and relief. His head fell back and his shoulders dropped, feeling the pleasurable stretch of their cock pressing against his walls. It was all he could do not to groan.
“Astarion,” Fen gasped, fingers digging into his hips, “gods, you're-you feel so good.”
Astarion smirked to himself at the praise, before leaning down to their ear as his hands caressed their neck and shoulders.
“And I’m all yours, darling,” he purred, rather ruining the effect by gasping in pleasure as he shifted slightly. This was all Fen's fault, really. He used to be very charming and sexy and now he was...well, he was still charming and sexy, but not in the same way.
Not that Fen seemed to mind; he thought he could feel their cock twitch inside him at the sound. That was all the encouragement he needed, really.
Astarion began fucking himself on Fen's cock, burying his face in their neck, licking at the blood that had dried near his bite. He tried to say something, wanted to tell Fen how full he felt, how their cock hit him just right, how their hand in his hair felt safe and right, how when they moaned his name it made him forget everything that had happened in those 200 years for just a moment and he loved them for that more than anything.
But all that came out were whimpers and whines as Fen started to move with him, planting their feet and meeting his thrusts with the force and hunger he craved. There was only the two of them, their pathetic little sounds of pleasure and the disgusting, deviant slap of slick flesh hitting flesh as the two of them fucked. Ugh, as despite the carnal, base nature of it all, they somehow managed to make love like this, rough and fast and needy.
Because somehow Astarion did feel loved at the moment, with Fen's hands grasping his ass and oil all but dripping down his thigh, even if it made no sense. With their breath on his neck and their lips trailing along his skin, the reverence that was always in their touch.
Gods, it felt amazing, they felt amazing inside him. Astarion was painfully hard, so aroused he thought he might die if Fen didn't put their hand around his cock this instant and get him off while he rode them.
“Get-mm, jack me off, please? Please,” he begged. “I can't, fuck, I need-” He was barely coherent at this point, whining out his words, begging like an animal but he wasn't an animal, he was never anything but a person with Fen. He was never pathetic, he-
“Anything you want,” Fen panted out, pulling him close. “Everything you want, love.”
Gods, why did they have to say things like that? Why did they have to make this so-so loving? Intimate? It felt wrong sometimes, like Astarion couldn't be having sex, no, this was so different from sex, he liked this-he loved this, the feel of Fen's breath on his skin and their hair between his fingers. It was beautiful and sensual and so fucking hot Astarion thought he'd combust even though his body held no heat.
Fen wrapped their slicked hand around his length, stroking him gently, which was good because if they'd gripped him with any real intent, Astarion would have come right then. As it was, the friction was a delicious tease as he found the right angle and yes, fuck, oh that was it-he was so close-gods was Fen anywhere near-?
“I'm close, Fen, just-just like that, pet.”
He pulled back and looked at Fen as he spoke. Their pupils were blown and their cheeks flushed under their freckles, lips parted and brow furrowed, sweaty hair sticking to their forehead. Astarion was suddenly glad he couldn't see his reflection; he was sure he looked like shit, hair a matted mess, but what did it matter? He felt so good.
“Kiss me?” Fen panted. It was a question, always a question, always something Astarion could say no to. As if he'd ever want to.
But he could, and that mattered.
“Always, darling,” and his mouth was on Fen's and their hand tightened its grip on Astarion as he felt the sweat on their skin and wondered how it would have tasted under his tongue before he was turned. They thrust up harder as Astarion’s movements hitched and stuttered, and godsdammit, of course they hit the perfect spot because they were always perfect. It was infuriating. Or it would have been if Astarion hadn't suddenly come so hard he finally understood why people said they saw stars.
Fen moaned and their muscles spasmed as Astarion collapsed on their chest, covered in sticky sweat and cum, fucked within an inch of his unlife by the only person he ever loved, the only person he gave a shit about in all of Faerûn.
Fen laid back slowly, still holding him, kissing what must be his irreparably disheveled hair, rubbing his back, whispering in his ear between pants for air.
“I love you, starshine. I love you. You're everything to me.”
And then, to his horror, Astarion was crying. He was crying after sex. Gods, as if he hadn't fucked up enough today, now he was going to be that person. His eyes had watered a bit before but now he could feel the tears on his face, fucking hells. He did his best to move without Fen noticing. Astarion did not want to cry on them. Maybe if he just...shifted a bit, so his face was in the pillow, they wouldn't notice.
“Hey, hey, it's alright, sweet one,” Fen murmured, their thumb brushing his cheek.
Ugh. So much for that plan.
“Of course it's alright; why wouldn't it be alright?! That was the best sex I've ever had! And I've had a lot of sex, darling. So clearly I'm alright! I'm excellent!” Astarion thought if he said it enough, it’d be true. Unfortunately, he was still crying. “Ugh, godsdammit.”
“Are you hurt? Remembering things? You're here; you're safe. We'll fix whatever's wrong.” Fen’s voice was soft, and they pushed ever so slightly on Astarion's jaw, moving his face so he'd look at them. But he avoided their eyes.
“I'm fine! I don't-ugh, I feel good, I think. It's just...a lot?” That didn't even make sense, and it made him angry. “This is your fault, somehow.”
“Hey, look at me.”
Astarion finally did as they asked, and saw Fen's eyes were bright and wet, too. Oh. Well...that made him feel a little better.
“That was-um, wait...oh, right, it was intense." Fen was trying to get used to using a bigger vocabulary in their speech. It shouldn't have been so adorable.
They paused a moment before continuing.
"Sometimes it's...overwhelming, and we cry anyway, because it's just...a lot of feelings? Even if they're good." Fen held his face, smiling, and gave him a kiss before letting Astarion hide his face in their neck again.
“Well, I hate it,” he grumbled, then sat up. “Wait, why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?”
“No! I'm... I'm really happy. I didn't think anyone would ever...I don't know, want me in their family?”
Astarion's eyebrow raised of its own volition. “Really, Fen? We have a family portrait in the foyer. I got drunk two months ago and told Shadowheart and an entire tavern that we were married or something, or so she says. I don't really remember. I never knew I could get blackout drunk as a vampire, actually.”
Fen smiled. “That was funny. And you actually told everyone you were my wife.”
“Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have drank that whole cow before all that wine.” He grimaced. “My point stands, however. Clearly I'm more than happy for everyone to know you're off the market.”
“I know, I think I always knew, it's just...I dunno. It's different. It feels like a big deal?” Fen tilted their head and looked at him. “Right?”
Astarion opened his mouth to say that, no, it wasn't a big deal, it was just something he was offering them for convenience sake, but he stopped. That wasn't true and he knew it. Why did he always want to do that? To lie and pretend he didn't care? When the hells would he stop it?
He gave Fen a tentative smile. “I suppose it is.”
Fen smiled back, sweet and happy. “Is it dumb that I want to practice writing my name now?”
Astarion tilted his head, almost incredulous. They were that excited? To be tied to him?
“Really?” His voice came out a bit sharper than he intended.
Fen shrank a bit, face falling. “You're right, it's-”
Shit, no, that's not what he meant! Godsdammit.
“It's not dumb,” he blurted. “And if you call something you want to do dumb again I'll...” Astarion paused. What did Fen even dislike enough for it to be a threat? “... I'll never put my shoes away again! I'll just...chuck them across the foyer!”
Fen looked at him for a moment, blinking in surprise, before bursting into laughter.
“What's so funny?!” Astarion huffed. “I'll do it!”
“You! You're funny!” They laughed more, struggling to speak. “I can just see you, coming in from a hunt in the rain, soaked with your hair flat against your face, pissed off and cursing and throwing your shoes as hard as you can at the wall.”
Astarion glared. “It's not funny! It's a punishment.”
Their eyes were watering. “Oh gods, I can hear you.” Their voice changed into the not remotely accurate tone they took on when they imitated him. “This is what you get for putting yourself down, Fen! Mud on the wall! Are you happy? You brought this on yourself!”
“I do not sound like that!” Astarion pushed himself up, fighting a smile. “How dare you!”
“You absolutely sound like that.” Fen sat up, taking one off his hands and kissing the palm. “And I love it.”
Ugh, godsdammit. They were so twee. And it was so charming. This was why they always got what they wanted from him. It was their ridiculous little Fen-isms.
“You're lucky you're cute,” Astarion grumbled. “Or I'd really throw my shoes.”
“That would damage your shoes,” they countered.
“Then I'd throw your shoes. They're ugly anyway.”
“You're such a brat.” Fen gave him a sweet, loving look as they spoke that belied their words. They made everything loving and sweet and Astarion thought his fangs would fall out from the saccharine-ness of it all.
He felt a dip on the bed, and looked over to see Edgar had hopped up. The cat gave them both a judgemental look.
“Really? Really, Edgar?” Astarion gave an exasperated sigh. “There's oil and cum all over half of the bed. You have a perfectly good, clean bed over there.”
The cat looked at him pointedly, made a few circles, and plopped down onto Astarion's pillow for a nap. Fen just shrugged and started to get up.
“His bed now. Let's go take a bath.”
Astarion looked at Edgar, and then at Fen, who was grabbing towels. Two of the strongest people in the city, who defeated an Elder Brain, who were very much enjoying the afterglow of their amazing sex, had been summarily dismissed from their own bed, in their own bedroom, by hairless little monster Fen had found in a dumpster a year ago. The sheer audacity of it.
Astarion got up and followed Fen, smiling to himself.
He loved that fucking cat.