Chapter Text

Gale and Astarion are on stage in a silent auditorium, under a huge banner that ripples slightly in the theater's air con. 

Gale is on one knee, looking up at Astarion with a dopey smile. 

Astarion glances nervously at the audience, rows and rows of hundreds of WeaveStitchers, all open-mouthed and frozen in delighted shock.

"How fun!" he titters for their benefit, his amplified voice ringing out over the speechless crowd, before yanking his head mic away from his face and hissing at Gale. 

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

In the front row, one WeaveStitcher passes out.

*

Tired of all the ‘LIVESTREAM WEN’ comments on their YouTube videos, Gale and Astarion had finally caved. 

The first episode of WeaveStitch Live! went without a hitch. They had 15,000 viewers tune in to the channel from the first minute and the numbers only went up from there. They followed their usual format to begin with; Astarion talked about how he came up with the designs for their wearable pieces, Gale gave a mini (for him) lecture about whatever spell he was going to infuse the item with. Astarion pretended to fall asleep while Gale was talking. Gale answered questions from the comments, deftly ignoring the not-so-small minority asking in all caps for them to fuck on camera. Astarion criticized people’s spelling and asked Gale why he didn’t want to fuck on camera. The fans lapped it up.

The second episode had the misfortune of streaming the same day they found out that another YouTuber, a far-right 'commentator' calling herself AllKorrillaNoFilla, had posted a video of herself attempting to summon an archdevil in the same way Gale had summoned Mystra. She’d tagged the WizardOfWaterdeep channel and lambasted Gale for ‘gatekeeping’ the gods, as well as for his ‘cowardice’ in not sharing the full details of his method. 

She’d failed, of course, but in her rage, Korilla had whipped up her online mob into a frenzy and sent it Gale’s way. He’d been tagged in thousands of tweets before he and Astarion had even got out of bed that morning. Sensing his boyfriend’s discomfort, Astarion had let loose on the livestream. 

“AllKorrillaNoFilla?” He spat. “All frizz, not enough jizz, if you ask me. Darling, baby fringes are only chic if you have the bone structure. In case I’m not being clear, she can suck my-”

His diatribe went on for so long that the WeaveStitchers had eagerly suggested he get his own part of the show in which to castigate other YouTubers. And so WeaveBitch was born. 

When the viewers noted that Gale sometimes has a tendency to complain about things like being on hold to customer support for a long time, or parcels being lost in the post, or the fact that his favorite teabags (BG Tips) aren’t as strong as they used to be, they’d had to add a segment called PeeveStitch.

Then people started requesting they invite guests onto the show. Wyll suggested that each guest could describe their ideal magical item and its properties. If the idea was good enough, Gale and Astarion would create it and add it to their product line. And that’s how WeavePitch started. 

They’ve had some of the biggest YouTubers grace the livestream and some hugely popular products as a result. The massage tool infused with Horizikaul’s Versatile Vibrations — a suggestion by Aylin from the AaSiMaR channel — has been a particular best-seller, though Gale is adamant it’s not for the reasons Astarion suggests. 

In the end, WeaveStitch Live! grew to be so popular that a properly live show, in front of a real audience, became inevitable. At first, Astarion only agreed to one event, horrified at the idea of having to encounter WeaveStitchers in the flesh. 

“I’ve been on the WeaveStitch Brainrot Discord, darling,” he’d shuddered. “You know they have something called ‘pink ball lore’ from that time you got out of that cab in shorts?”

Eventually, though, the first event had sold out so quickly that Jen had cajoled them both into agreeing to a tour. 

Which is how Gale finds himself on stage at the Low Lantern Theater in Baldur’s Gate, kneeling in front of his boyfriend. He’s in the process of contemplating how beautiful Astarion looks, even under the harsh studio lighting, when gasps ripple though the crowd and a young man in the front row collapses face-first onto the floor with a gentle thud that echoes around the room.

“What-” Gale starts to say but he’s drowned out by the sound of the audience suddenly losing its collective shit. 

“What the fuck are you doing??” Astarion hisses over the racket of screams and cheers, still holding his hand over his mic, blinking in the sudden strobe of phone camera flashes.

“I was just-” Gale gets up, showing Astarion his hand, covering his mic with the other. “I was picking up this needle you dropped…”

“Oh my gods,” Astarion screws his eyes shut. “You knelt down on one leg, Gale.”

“Well, yes. If I go down on both of them I can never get back up again, you know that-” 

“Gale! You were on one knee. ”

“Oh.” Oh, hells.

“Quite.”

“Ah-” Gale readjusts his mic to his mouth, turning back to the crowd. “Is that man- could someone-” 

A security guard is rushing over to the prone WeaveStitcher, still face down on the ground.

“Yes, thank you,” Gale continues. “Is he okay? Are you okay, sir?”

The man gives a shaky thumbs up from the floor before weakly calling, “Congratulations!”

“No, no!” Gale waves his hands frantically. He can see at least six people in the stalls who are crying. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake! I wasn’t proposing!”

The jubilant cheers fade to a confused murmuring. 

“You’re not engaged?” the man in the front row asks, his voice muffled as the security guard tries to mop up his bloody nose.

“No! Gods no!” Gale turns to Astarion with a laugh, which rapidly dies at the look on his boyfriend’s face. 

Astarion is covering his mic again, gesturing for Gale to do the same. “What do you mean, ‘gods no’?”

“I-” Gale flounders. “You just said you were going to fucking kill me when you thought I was proposing!”

“I said I was going to fucking kill you when I thought you were proposing in public!”

“Oh!” Gale is trying to keep up. “So if I proposed in private, you’d say yes?”

“Yes!” Astarion stares at him for a moment before adding: “Probably.”

“Oh!”

“We can actually still hear you,” the security guard offers helpfully, hand clamped over the WeaveStitcher’s nosebleed, stammering slightly when Gale and Astarion turn to glare at him. “The er- the theater isn’t that big. I mean, we have loads of plays here where the actors don’t use mics at all. You- you know, it’s actually designed that way, the acoustics, I mean. So you can-”

“You are engaged then?” someone else shouts.

“Yeah, you technically just asked and he said yes!” a woman squeals. 

“No! We’re not!” Gale turns to Astarion. “Right?”

“Yes!” cries Astarion in frustration. “I mean, no! What the fuck- we are not engaged! Oh, stop booing, for gods’ sakes…”

*

Rionline: so this article is reporting that they *are* engaged

Rionline: wweekly.com/blog/weavestitch-wedding-bells

Popper78657: SHOTGUN WEDDING PROBLY

ProfsFaveStudent: …what

TolnaTheTomeMonger: I thought Popper was banned

ProfsFaveStudent: what does that even mean

TolnaTheTomeMonger: Mods can someone ban Popper again? he’s just changed one number in his name, Popper we know it’s you

TolnaTheTomeMonger: your name is literally still popper

Rionline: Sorry, sorry everyone, on it

Rionline: Okay, he should be gone now

Popper78658: FUCK YOU ALL #WEAVESTITCHLIVES

Rionline: ffs

Astarion is lying on an uncomfortable bed, scrolling disconsolately through the WeaveStitch Discord and reading excited reports of his nonexistent engagement while Gale cooks an apology dinner as best he can in a hotel room. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Gale says for the hundredth time, grilling halloumi over the purple flickering flame in his hand. 

“Mmhm..." 

With a sigh, Gale hands over a plate heaped with flatbreads, tzatziki, hummus, halloumi, and a Chondathan salad jeweled with shiny black olives and glistening pink pomegranate seeds. 

“Stop looking at the Discord,” he chides as Astarion puts his plate down and continues scrolling. “It cannot be good for one's mental health to see that many illustrations of your own peni-”

“It’s not that,” Astarion scowls at his screen. “Jen keeps sending me links to wedding dresses.”

“Tell her to fuck off!”

Astarion holds out the phone, so Gale can read the WhatsApp messages.


BoxDye: https://shorturl.at/9EIE3

BoxDye: you’d look so pretty in this!

AA: FUCK OFF

AA: ...I would though

Gale snorts, making himself up a plate. “So… we’ve got a day off tomorrow. I thought we could do some sightseeing around the city as you haven’t been back here since you were little?”

“Mmhm,” Astarion picks at a bit of halloumi, still scrolling. He whines when both his phone and the cheese are removed from his hands. “Gale…”

“Astarion,” Gale echoes playfully, taking the plate too, and putting it on the small desk in the corner. “The food is not to your liking? My apologies, Lord Argenti…”

“Gale, I’m not in the mood…” Astarion turns away, petulant.

He doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal out of the incident at the theater. It was only a misunderstanding, after all. Yet part of him is still smarting at Gale’s initial reaction. ‘Gods no…’?? What did he mean 'gods no'? Really…

Not that Astarion cares about marriage at all, but he expected Gale to be desperate to propose to him by now. It's honestly bordering on insulting. He can hardly bring it up though, they've only been together for three years. It's probably too soon. Besides, Astarion doesn't even want to get married. He doesn't care. The whole thing is archaic, in his opinion. He could really take it or leave it. He doesn't care at all. He'd only ever consider it for Gale's sake but if Gale doesn't want to — Gale — then fuck it, fuck everything, they might as well break up-

His thoughts are interrupted by a warm hand at the side of his face, tilting his head up, equally warm brown eyes gazing down at him. 

"I am sorry, my love, it was truly an accident," Gale smiles hesitantly. "Although... I must admit, I have pictured what it might be like to call you my husband... A pleasant image to be sure..."

Astarion melts into his hand with a sigh. "I mean, whatever, I don't really care about marriage... but if you wanted to..."

Gale chuckles. "I should not dare to be so presumptuous as to consider myself worthy of you, my lord..." He moves his hands behind his back, head bowed. “You may punish me however you see fit.”

Astarion tuts in return, but his lips twitch as he tries and fails to suppress a grin. Their roleplay has progressed somewhat over the years. Gale's mage is Astarion's vampire consort now. It's not at all in line with the plot of Gale's second or third book but he doesn't seem to mind the divergence from canon.

“Direct me…” Gale continues, lowering his voice, glancing up through the hair falling over his forehead, eyes glinting with mischief. 

That’s not fair, Astarion thinks. He knows I can't resist professor voice. 

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes, giving in. “On your knees, darling.”

“That’s what I got in trouble for in the first place,” Gale retorts.

The wizard is getting far too overconfident. That won’t do at all. In response, Astarion slowly pulls off his own t-shirt before lying back on the bed and unzipping his jeans, pushing them down first, followed by his boxers, watching Gale’s Adam’s apple bob at the sight. It’s so gratifying the way Gale still looks at him like that, even after three years together. Astarion has always known he’s attractive, but Gale makes him feel beautiful.

“I said: on your knees,” he growls and Gale drops so quickly that Astarion briefly wonders whether he’ll still be able to walk around Baldur’s Gate tomorrow. 

Then Gale’s mouth wraps around him and Astarion’s head falls back onto the duvet, emptying of any thoughts at all. 

*

“Astarion?”

Gale is bravely hobbling along a busy Baldur’s Gate street, making his way to their next destination, trying to ignore the pain from where he’d been on his knees — one way or another — all night. 

However, at some point, he lost his boyfriend.

“Astarion?” he calls again, moving back through the crowd. He eventually finds the designer a few paces back, staring up at a gaudy-looking modern building decked out with a neon sign. 

Ⓣⓗⓔ Ⓟⓐⓛⓐⓒⓔ Ⓒⓐⓢⓘⓝⓞ

“The Old High Hall closes in a few hours,” Gale gazes up at the casino dubiously. “But we can come back for a spot of gambling later, if you’d like?”

“I used to live here,” Astarion says, his voice so quiet that Gale almost misses it amongst the hustle and bustle of the Upper City. “This is where Cazador’s house was. They must have built over it after the fire.”

Oh gods. Gale lets out a long exhale and moves to stand by his boyfriend’s side.

“Sorry,” Astarion shakes his head self-consciously. “Let’s get on, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the no doubt endless lecture you have prepared about the history of High Hall.”

Gale reaches for his hand. “Let’s just… stay here, for a moment? Together?”

“Okay… that…” Astarion stammers, glancing at Gale, blinking rapidly. “...that would mean a lot.”

When Astarion turns and clings to him, Gale experiences a very brief moment of panic that the designer is going to feel the small cube hidden in Gale's inside pocket. A little black box, ordered months ago and collected from Philgrave's yesterday while Astarion was shopping. 

Gale wraps his arms around his boyfriend, shifting him carefully to the other side and kissing the top of his head. A couple of small tears roll down Astarion's cheeks as they both look up at the building in silence. 

*

“You were supposed to ‘accidentally’ find this but you’re taking too long and I need to start letting people in for the show.” 

Minthara is impatiently holding out an envelope, standing next to the booth where Astarion is sitting in Caress. The underground club is cool despite the summer heat outside and it’s completely empty, though it won’t be for long.

Min had texted him earlier in the week, inviting him to the club for a drink when he was back from touring. Which was… weird, honestly. Astarion hasn’t worked at Caress in a long time, though he still does the occasional burlesque performance when the fancy takes him (mostly because he’s obsessed with how turned on Gale gets watching the show). Other than that, Min usually wants to socialize away from her business.

Plus, her text had given him a specific time to arrive and said ‘I look forward to seeing you’, which was even weirder.

“What…” he takes the envelope hesitantly. It’s labeled ‘Astarion’ in Gale’s handwriting. Astarion looks up at his old boss in surprise.

“Yes, my invitation for you to randomly pay a social call to your former place of work was a ruse — shocking, I know.” Min looks at her watch. “You’re taking up a seat.”

“Sorry,” Astarion slides out of the booth, envelope clutched in his hand. Before he can scurry out of the door, Min pulls him back into an awkward, unexpected hug. 

“I hope you have a very good evening, Astarion,” she says, her voice rough. Then she pushes him away and stomps off to the bar.

Baffled, Astarion calls after her. “Min?”

She pauses, not turning around. “What?”

“Are you… dying or something?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.”

Minthara disappears into the stockroom and Astarion’s attention turns back to the letter. He opens it as he hurries out onto the street, weaving through the long queue of people waiting to get into the club.

Inside is a neatly folded piece of paper, decorated with Gale’s elegant hand:

To My Best Friend,

Astarion's heart lurches. Is this... is Gale...  He keeps reading, hyperventilating mildly.

I know this wasn’t where we met,

But it’s where a dance did first beget,

A quickened heart, a heady rush, 

The start of my enduring crush.

(Plus, I needed help roping you in,

From the ever-terrifying Min.

Sorry if she’s a little cranky,

She thought this idea was somewhat wanky.)

Astarion giggles, leaning heavily against the red brick wall outside Caress, clutching the letter in both hands. He tells himself to calm down in case it’s not what he thinks it is but his pulse is thundering in his ears.

So please indulge an old professor,

In love with the city’s snappiest dresser.

As I take you on a treasure trail,

Through all the landmarks of our tale.

It won’t take long, I must admit,

(just in case you hate this shit).

We’ll start with somewhere seen a lot,

It’s time to go to…

“Bean Pot!” Astarion cries out loud to no one in particular. A couple of hipsters in the Caress queue give him bombastic side eye and he coughs self-consciously before setting off.

It doesn’t take him long to walk to their favorite coffee shop, the place where he and Gale first met as Vesper and the Wizard of Waterdeep all those years ago. Nowadays, they grab coffee here a few times a week — despite the one barista who has held a grudge against Astarion the whole time.

As he pushes the glass door open, he's disappointed to see the same angry woman on shift. Her eyes narrow when she spies him in return. 

“Your boyfriend left you a coffee,” she calls over the queue of people waiting to order. “Would you like me to carry it upstairs for you and then bring it back down again? Or have you decided that you don't want it anymore?”

“Oh my gods, that was one time…” Astarion mutters. 

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!” Astarion rushes up to the counter to grab the drink labeled with his name. “Thank you!”

“You better not be filming this!" the woman shouts after him as he leaves. "Bloody YouTubers…”

Hurrying back out onto the street, Astarion inspects the cup. Inside, is a double-shot black Americano — his favorite. And, wrapped around the cup, in slightly less neat handwriting than before:

Welcome, love, and joyful greeting,

From where we had that fateful meeting,

And, to my unexpected luck,

The best deal of my life was struck.

Next, we journey Castle-way,

To where we whiled the night away,

Side-by-side beneath the stars,

Above the ancient tavern bars.

Sorry this stanza is lacking grace,

I’m rather running out of spa

Astarion snorts then takes a sip of the coffee, humming thoughtfully. The ancient tavern bars… Gale must be talking about the book launch. The night they’d escaped to a star-lit roof terrace. The night they’d nearly had their first kiss… 

He whips out his phone and orders a taxi to the hotel that once doubled up as the legendary Elfsong Tavern, only a bit miffed that Gale couldn’t keep his treasure hunt within the more easily reachable confines of the Dock Ward. 

It takes nearly half an hour to get there in the late afternoon traffic, but Astarion is buzzing on a double shot of coffee and the increasing suspicion that Gale is about to… Well, we’ll see… He pushes through the revolving doors of the hotel so fast that he nearly gets carried all the way outside again. 

“Mr Ancunin!'' The receptionist at the old hotel greets Astarion by name, to his surprise. He and Gale are famous YouTubers, sure, but they’re still only YouTubers... How does this man know-

“Follow me, please, sir,” the receptionist gives him a knowing smile. 

Nearly dizzy with excitement, Astarion can’t help but yank his phone from his pocket to message Gale and ask what in the hells is happening. When he looks at his screen, however, he already has a notification.

Ventus 🍆💦 : Yes, you’re in the right place. No, I won’t tell you what’s happening. Keep going. I love you x

Bastard. Astarion grins, pocketing his phone as the receptionist leads him down a long hallway, eventually using a keycard to unlock one of the rooms. 

“Your camp awaits…” the man smiles, opening the door with a flourish.

Astarion walks in, open-mouthed. 

Just as the hotel had been the night of the book launch, the vast suite has been decorated to resemble something straight from the pages of historical fiction. 

Instead of a tavern, however, this room has been made over into a fantasy campsite. The four-poster bed rests under a canopy of purple canvas and faux tree trunks line the walls to make it look like the space is nestled in a quiet forest clearing. The only light comes from a flickering fake campfire in the middle of the suite and, most enchanting of all, little glowing fireflies that dance around the room. Astarion touches one gently and it disappears with a puff of purple and the scent of rosewater. Magic… 

Next to the bed is a huge, ancient-looking travel trunk, with a scroll resting on top.

That night launched more than just a book, 

An almost-kiss and I was hooked.

(btw sorry this journey wasn’t fab

I’ll reimburse you for the cab).

But now we find ourselves in camp, 

A time to rest and to re-vamp ;)

Open the crate and find the loot,

Tonight requires a special suit…

Astarion lets out a little laugh, setting the scroll on the bed and lifting the lid on the old leather trunk. Inside, neatly folded, is a beautiful burgundy tuxedo made of pure silk. He gently removes it from the trunk, careful not to crease the suit as he hangs it from the four-poster bed. The jacket has gorgeous velvet notched lapels with matching cuffs, and, underneath the trousers in the trunk, he finds a sheer black shirt and a pair of stylish black boots too.

He puts on the ensemble in a daze. It’s divine. Stunning. It fits like a glove. It damn well should, since he made it himself.

Two months ago, Gale had told him they’d been invited to a film premiere. A fantasy epic about vampires. He’d encouraged Astarion to make a suit just for the occasion… 

Sneaky, sneaky bastard. 

On the other side of the 'camp', Astarion sees a full-length gilded mirror, and he wanders over to check himself out. Instead of his reflection, however, the mirror swirls with black and white and blue and purple star-studded fog. 

“What in the hells…”

There's another note affixed to the frame.

Vampires can’t use mirrors, silly. 

You look beautiful x

(PTO)

Hands shaking, Astarion turns the piece of paper over.

I hope you like my next big trick,

A portal made of pure magic,

(Please also appreciate how good your mage is, 

Learning this spell took bloody ages).

Now you’re dressed and ready to go, 

It’s time for us to put on a show,

‘Meet me where we first met’ again,

As I declare my love before fans and friends…

Oh gods… Astarion’s heart sinks. ‘Meet me where we first met’ — it’s what Gale said in his apology video. He means the warehouse balcony. And ‘before fans and friends…’?? Oh gods, oh hells. He must have recreated the day he asked Astarion to join him there. He must have told the WeaveStitchers again. He’s going to propose in front of all those people… 

There are two more lines of verse. Astarion carries on reading.

I jest, my love, I’m all alone.

Walk through the mirror and come on home…

Bastard! Astarion leans one hand heavily against the frame of the mirror with a soft laugh of relief. He should have known. Gale knows him too well by now. His Gale.

The whole evening, Astarion has hurtled forward at breakneck speed, tearing through his boyfriend’s clues in a rush to get to him. Now, he takes a moment. Only a small moment to look around the room, to take in the decorations and the suit, to consider the clues and the treasure trail and the entire ridiculously elaborate setup Gale has created just for him. 

After so many years alone, it's still sometimes hard to believe that someone loves him this much, let alone someone like Gale. His funny, infuriating, beautiful, so-smart-he’s-stupid best friend. 

Astarion swipes a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand, takes a deep breath, and walks through the mirror. 

*

Gale can’t help but sigh with delight when Astarion steps through the portal wearing his new suit. He looks absolutely exquisite. Gale knew he would, of course, but Astarion’s beauty never fails to take his breath away. The way a sunrise never fails to inspire awe, no matter how many of them you’ve seen. 

“You utter bastard…” Astarion is grinning. It’s the height of complimentary, for him. Gale watches, pleased, as the designer gazes around at the new location he finds himself in.

They’re standing on the study balcony at home. Gale has gone to great pains to cover it with the fresh flowers Astarion loves so much, Jen and Halsin and Wyll helping him tie bouquet after scented bouquet to the balustrades before slipping away after a few tearful hugs. 

The table is laden with a picnic — Astarion’s favorite: calamari, lemon potatoes, and grilled vegetables —  and a bottle of champagne, while the bench is piled with comfy cushions and blankets. 

Behind them, the sun is taking its daily dive into the sea, and Deepwater Harbor glitters in the last of the pink evening light.

“I was afraid you weren't coming for a moment there…”

“As if,” Astarion scoffs. But then he pauses. “I just needed a minute.” 

On second inspection, under the bravado and the beauty, he does look a little shaky. A touch overwhelmed perhaps.

Gale holds out his arms and Astarion moves into him as easily and inevitably as breathing.

After so many years alone, it's still sometimes hard to believe that he gets to hold someone like this, let alone someone like Astarion. His funny, infuriating, beautiful, sharp-but-soft best friend.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into the familiar bergamot smell of Astarion's hair.

“Mmhm,” Astarion nods, mumbling into Gale’s shoulder. “I'm too happy.”

Gale chuckles. Happiness is still a complex emotion for Astarion. He never seems to know quite what to do with it.

“What are you so happy about?” he asks the designer innocently. “We’re only having a balcony picnic.”

Astarion pulls back with such a glare that Gale can’t help but tap the end of his nose affectionately. “You look magnificent. Did I say that already?”

“No,” Astarion pouts, before reluctantly adding: “So do you… That’s a marvelous suit you’ve got on. You must tell me the name of the designer. Their work is masterful.”

“Likewise,” Gale laughs again. He is, of course, wearing The Suit. It felt like the appropriate choice. Full circle, as it were. Like a ring. 

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath. “Ready?” 

Astarion gives a tremulous nod and Gale directs him to the bench, sitting down next to him like they've sat together so many times over the past few years; for al fresco breakfasts wearing nothing but smiles; for gentle late-night conversations about their pasts; for tearful reconciliations after heated spats. 

Tonight feels different though. Tonight, there's magic in the air. 

Quite literally, in fact, as Gale starts to repeat the gestures he's practiced countless times over the last four months. As he summons and folds the Weave around them, he turns to his lover and speaks. 

“You once said you had a plan to tell me you loved me on this balcony at sunset. A plan I seem to recall I somewhat ruined. So please allow me to return the favor instead.” 

It's taking some concentration but points of Weave start to wink into existence in the air around Gale's hands. They reflect in Astarion's eyes, wide and gleaming with happy tears. 

“Astarion, I love you. Sometimes I think I loved you from the moment we met, which I know sounds silly since you were blackmailing me at the time-”

Astarion makes a small noise that's half laugh, half sob.

“-but I feel it nonetheless. Granted, our path hasn’t always been the smoothest but you have turned my life upside down in the best way possible. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be again. My bold, brilliant, hilarious, indomitable, talented, beautiful Vesper…”

The points of Weave are starting to solidify now and Gale focuses on molding them into shape…

Hundreds of tiny magical bats burst forth from nothing, making Astarion gasp. Gale’s heart swells at the way he watches them with innocent delight, the same way he’d been watching the drone show the night they first met. That joyful wonder he fights so hard to keep hidden, that he only shows when he feels completely safe.

With a fond smile, Gale focuses on the cloud of conjured creatures, guiding them as they flutter into formation and begin spelling out the letters…

W   I   L   L

There's a chirrup from the balcony door and Tara races across the floor, leaping onto Astarion and sending Weave bats skittering through the air. 

Godsdamnit… “Tara!” 

*

“You've rather jumped your cue there…” Gale is shaking his head with disappointment at the Bengal now loudly purring in Astarion's lap. 

Astarion barely notices. All of his attention is focused on Tara's collar, where he can see a little black ring box tied on with ribbon. 

“Is this for me?” he asks stupidly, looking up at Gale.

“Yes…” Gale sighs, “She wasn’t supposed to come in until I’d actually asked you…” He turns back to Tara with a tut. “Tar… we talked about this… After the bats...”

“Mraow,” replies Tara, unconcerned, rubbing her head against Astarion and pushing the ring box into his hand.

Astarion cracks the box open, his hands shaking again. On a plush velvet cushion rests a minimal platinum band, simple and understated.

“Look on the inside,” Gale prompts, his eyes lit with excitement. 

On closer inspection, the interior of the ring is engraved with a V and a W offset against a bigger circle.

"Animatus..." Gale whispers and the V and W start to flap, like tiny little wings. The overall effect is of two flying bats, silhouetted against a large, full moon.

“Vesper and the Wizard…” Gale explains with a dorky, lopsided smile.

It’s perfect. So perfect that Astarion can only turn the ring over in his hands, completely speechless.

“You said if I asked you in private, you’d say yes…” Gale's tone is mildly accusatory.

Astarion laughs. “You haven’t actually asked me anything yet…” 

“What?? I did ask-” Gale turns, indignant, to point at the magical bats behind him, before deflating slightly. “Oh.”

With Tara interrupting his concentration, the bats have frozen in mid-air, only managing to spell out a few letters.

W  I  L  L  Y    O  U  M

“Unless this is all in aid of requesting some new sex position I haven't heard of?" Astarion taps his chin in mock thought. "The Willy Oum? I can't say it sounds comfortable but, you know me, I'm up for trying anything once."

"Damn it," mutters Gale with a bashful grin. “Looks like I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“On your knee, darling…” Astarion giggles, heart pounding. On second thoughts, he adds: “...Do you need some help getting-”

"I’m fine, thank you!” Gale tuts, dropping onto one knee with only a very quiet groan. He reaches up and takes the ring box, turning it and holding it out.

“Astarion,” he smiles, his handsome face going hazy through the fresh film of tears welling up in Astarion’s eyes. “Will you make me the happiest YouTuber alive and do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

“Yes…” Astarion laughs, sliding the ring onto his finger before throwing himself off the bench and into his fiance’s arms, kissing him deeply. “Yes, of course I will, you absolute idiot.”