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They weren't really drinking together as much as drinking next to each other, lost in their own thoughts and nursing the exhaustion of the long day while allegedly taking their turn to guard the camp, when Staeve started purring out of nowhere. Again.
A fit of pique washed over Astarion.
“What are you making that noise about now?”
The droning immediately stuttered to a halt. “Nothing! Nothing, nothing, I was just… thinking.”
“And thinking makes you purr?“
It was kind of annoying, in all sincerity. The man purred at everything.
Except Astarion, apparently.
Staeve shrugged, a bit uncoordinated. “Yeah, sometimes. I guess. Depends on what I'm thinking about.” He grinned. The purring started again.
Astarion raised an eyebrow at him.
Staeve’s grin turned pained, and the vibration fizzled out. “Ah, sorry about that. Drinking has me a little—Maybe I should go to sleep. You have it here, yeah?”
“Oh, but the night is young, still.“ Astarion might have not been able to purr as literally as Staeve did, but his voice could still make a damn good attempt at it. He tilted his head, lowered his tone. “Maybe we should take advantage of this time to get to know each other a little better, mh?”
Staeve’s face twisted oddly for a moment, and then he burst out laughing, the buzz of his purr back in full force. “Fuck me, this is horrible. This is my life now.” He was flushed from the alcohol, from the laughing, and maybe from the heat of the fire, and he looked very, very pretty. “You're making this really hard, you know?”
Astarion blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah, you.” Staeve leaned over and pressed a sloppy, slightly too-hard kiss against Astarion’s cheek. “You're a menace, and I am going to bed.“
As he watched him get up and stumble away towards his tent, it occurred to Astarion that maybe Staeve hadn't been purring at nothing.