Chapter Text
Pulling the brush through Rhapsody’s mane, Astarion eyes the opening to the arena just around the corner. There’s a familiar pair of brown eyes searching for something, and he desperately hopes it’s not him. It wasn’t worth the risk of pissing off Cazador who might take his aggression out on Gale in some way, and Astarion couldn’t bear the thought of that.
That and Astarion simply didn’t have the patience. Perhaps if Gale were only trying to get in his pants, he could take the man for a quick spin and be done with it. Those efforts so far have proven to be fruitless due to no fault of either of them, just the circumstances. Astarion was beginning to realize that may never happen because he and Gale were on two totally different sides of the spectrum when it came to their ideas of being involved with others.
Unfortunately for Astarion, Gale was a fully devoted and committed person, even in matters of relationships. He seemed very tender-hearted and easily an unconditional lover. One of those types that would ‘still love you if you were a worm.’ Gale viewed people through the window of their eyes, past the vain exteriors, insecurities, and masks. Gale was thoughtful, kind, and loyal.
Unfortunately for Gale, Astarion was none of those things.
“I thought I’d find you here!” That strange unique accent had called to him. As much as Astarion didn’t want to admit it, he liked hearing that voice.
The expectation of whatever Gale had to say to him was heavy on his mind, the space closing between them dwindling. Gale seemed reluctant at first, so Astarion decided to help him remove that reluctance. With fingers deep into his silvery locks, Astarion pushed his hair from his face.
“You’ve found me. Shall I count to 10 and then go find you, now?” Astarion asked.
Gale snorted, looking towards the ground. Astarion couldn’t help but find it cute. He turned away, hoping not to clue the other man into his interest, and quickly looked for Cazador, who seemed to be missing at the moment. No doubt schmoozing with Keatheric after the photograph incident. Petras was there though, he always was. The man was so far up Cazador’s ass his feet dangled out.
Astarion turned back to Gale, whose grin was wide and unabashed. He would pretend like that didn’t make his heart skip a beat.
“You looked wonderful out there, and your costume is phenomenal,” Gale said, cheeks rosy.
Astarion let out a huff. “Of course I did. I am always flawless. Who do you think the star of the show is? They don’t call me A star ion for no reason.” Astarion leaned towards Gale, looking at Petras. “Guess who doesn’t have ‘star’ in their name?”
“Fuck off Astarion,” Petras said, his brush halting in Pelorsun’s coat just long enough for him to flash Astarion a grimace.
“Perhaps I could donate you a letter from my name. I could share my ‘s’ with you, stick it right at the end of your name.”
Gale stifled a snicker, and Astarion watched with amusement as Petras struggled, looking up into the air in deep thought before it finally hit him.
“Again, fuck off Astarion before I give you an ‘s’.”
It was Astarion and Gale’s turn to be confused.
Petras’ cheeks went through a few shades of red, before turning back to Pelorsun to continue his work with the brush. “Fuck off both of you.”
Astarion chuckled and leaned on Gale’s shoulder with his elbow. “So tell me, darling, why have you sought me out today? Can’t stay away, can you? I don’t blame you.”
Gale was dressed in a white button-up western shirt with a golden design spanning his chest. Of course, he had that violet hat on his head. Astarion did not have a thing for the whole cowboy aesthetic, but he was starting to come around to it.
Gale was beginning to match Petras in shades of red as Astarion leaned in a little closer, and he quite liked that.
“Will y"all be going to Tulsa?” Gale said a little quietly.
Astarion’s eyes widened. “You did not just say ‘y’all’.”
“I did, it’s a compound word meaning ‘you all.’”
Astarion sighed. “I know what it means, I’m just questioning why you are using it.”
“I’m sure it’s correct in this context. Will you all be going to Tulsa? As in you and your team?”
“Say it again.”
Gale hesitated, looking confused. “Will y’all be going to Tulsa?”
Astarion let out a barking laugh. “God, that sounds ridiculous but oddly charming. And what is Tulsa, exactly? Another barn dance?”
“Tulsa, it’s in Texas. It’s where the PBR championship takes place.”
“Oh no, I hope not. I thought it was bad enough here, I don’t want to go to the Yeehaw capital of the world.” Astarion whined. “Hopefully they already have all the entertainment they need over there.”
“I was hoping you were going, I’ve become rather fond of you,” Gale admitted, which gave Astarion pause. He felt a warm wave of nervous butterflies in his stomach.
Astarion wondered if he was developing a stupid little crush. He chanced a look up to Gale’s face and felt his stomach do a summersault as he met a look of adoration. Astarion wasn’t used to someone looking at him in this way.
“Gale Dekarios, what do I owe the pleasure? Can I help you?”
Both men turned to see Cazador looming above them, and Astarion quickly removed his elbow from Gale’s shoulder. Astarion pretended to not see the flicker of disappointment on Gale’s face when he did so.
“Ah- just asking if Czarr family trick riders will be moving to Tulsa with us for the finals.”
“Your timing is impeccable because I have just secured us a time slot in the very thing,” Cazador said, his eyes cutting to Astarion in an accusatory manner. “I think it would be best to avoid any incidents going forward, hmm? There’s a lot at stake, and I suggest you keep your fraternizing with my trick rider to a minimum.”
Gale turned to Astarion, and Astarion simply looked towards the floor. Cazador was right, Gale was best to stay away, not to jeopardize himself for the sake of someone like Astarion.
“Go, Gale,” Astarion said quietly.
Gale looked at Cazador, before settling his gaze on Astarion again. “There’s a bonfire party with our friends being held out on Old Farm road, not too far from here. You should come.”
Astarion did not answer, instead watching as Gale turned and disappeared back from where he came.
Once fully out of sight, Cazador’s hand reached over, gripping Astarion’s chin in a manner that he had grown used to. Forced to look at the man’s dark, criticizing eyes, he kept his expression neutral. Being upset gave Cazador more satisfaction than he was willing to supply.
“You’d better behave. You’ve already almost cost us this opportunity with your little rendezvous with that man. I could cast you out to the squalor I found you in.” The low dark rumble of his voice used to send cold chills up his spine and strike his stomach with terror.
Now, all he felt was numb. He didn’t care what Cazador did to him anymore. As long as he was fed, clothed, and allowed out on occasion he didn’t care, even if Petras had to be present. One side eye to the man in question revealed a smug look of satisfaction as he bore witness to the scene.
Cazador’s grip tightened. “You had better not ruin this for us.”
“I won’t be going,” Astarion replied, not giving Cazador an ounce of the reaction he was so clearly looking for.
Cazador released his chin, his eyes remaining firm. “Good boy.”
-
The hotel room was dreary and lonely, with no sounds but the trashy television program and occasional thumps of feet in the hallway just outside. Astarion lay in bed, staring wistfully at the ceiling. The voices on the TV went on and on about things he didn’t care to pay attention to.
He mulled over the bonfire offer, weighing the pros and cons of throwing caution to the wind and just going for the hell of it. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he wanted to go so bad, certainly not to see Gale. That would be ridiculous.
Astarion pulled a pillow over his face, yelling disdainfully into it. Rolling over, he hugged the pillow to his chest and glanced out the window overlooking the city. The sky is clear and trees sway below in a dance under the stars.
Finally, with a disgruntled groan, Astarion pushed himself from the bed and rummaged in his suitcase, producing a navy blue tracksuit. It was chilly outside, and he would have to trek the entire distance on foot. He didn’t want to spend money on a ride and he was not about to go ask Cazador for the keys to the rental car.
Despite the distance, Astarion was going to attend that bonfire, which meant sneaking out like a damned teenager. He felt a little giddy as he slipped out of the hotel room, hoodie pulled up over his face. He checked the two rooms beside him, firmly shut. Petras had a ‘do not disturb’ tag hanging on his door, but Cazador’s did not. It was no surprise, Cazador often spent his nights out looking for someone to warm his bed for him. As long as it wasn’t Astarion, he didn’t give two shits.
Once he passed the lobby and hit the cold night air, Astarion was glad for his more sensible clothing choices.
Grateful enough to be not far from the arena itself, he presumes the walk should be no more than 30 minutes, maybe sooner if he can keep his pace quickened and light. The wind was blowing just enough to nip at his face, making it tingle as it kissed his skin. Cars sped by him at intense speeds, also sending wave upon wave of cold air crashing on him. Soon, it was cutting through his tracksuit.
He passed by numerous gas stations, large hotels, and restaurants before finally finding a road that cut off into the woods. Astarion isn’t sure when his face went numb, but as soon as he saw the orange glow on the horizon, he breathed a sigh of relief.
He finally sees silhouettes against a flaming background, their shadows dancing gleefully behind them as they laugh and drink from their cans. There are quite a lot of people here, more than he’d like to be around. The roaring fire beckoned him though, and he traipsed around the edge of the orange glow until he spotted a suitable opening a comfortable distance away from the other bystanders.
Comfortably sat, he held his hands out as they thawed next to the heat, and he idly glanced around looking for a familiar face. Several people were already quite tipsy from beer and whatever else they had in the back of a particularly large truck, swaying in pairs to a sappy country song that was enough to elicit a dog to howl.
One particular long dark braid caught his eye, and he recognized Jen with her arms around a petite figure. A few beats of the music turned, and he saw her lip locked with none other than Lae, the feisty female bull rider she had quite literally fought in the middle of the arena.
“I knew it…” Astarion chuckled to himself.
He scanned the crowd, landing on the figure he was looking for, and sat just on the tailgate of the truck blaring the music.
Gale, all bundled up in a flannel coat, beanie, jeans, and cowboy boots. Because of course, he is still in those damn boots. Astarion notices the way his hair curls up from under the bottom of his hat, brushing against the collar of the jacket. He feels pretty stupid just sitting there and staring, not bothering to go over and say hello to the man who invited him here.
It was rather selfish coming here, seeking solace in a man whom he could most likely not return the favor to. He was a shallow hull of a man, tarnished and used beyond repair. Gale didn’t deserve that.
It was a mistake coming here.
Astarion decided he would head back before Gale saw him. He looked towards the fire, warming his hands enough to last the trek back. Unable to resist stealing one last glance at Gale, he turned to the truck and locked eyes with brown ones.
Some mixture of excitement and worry passed over him as Gale did a little jog over to him, and he couldn’t resist the smile that stretched his face.
“You made it!” Gale beamed. “May I?”
Astarion gave him a smirk. “If you must…”
Gale seated himself beside Astarion, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. “You’ve left your makeup off,” Gale said, leaning over slightly to look at Astarion’s face.
Shit.
“Oh god, I have, haven’t I? Do you think anyone else noticed?”
Astarion remembers now, removing his makeup because he had no intentions of even being here. He pulled his hoodie around his face further.
“Why are you covering yourself? You look fine.” Gale playfully pulled his hoodie away from his face. “You don’t need to hide it.”
“I do, you don’t understand the gawks and stares I get when I’m… Barefaced. People stare at me like I’m strange.”
“Hmm.” Gale contemplated. “People are scared of what they don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I still don’t understand your strange accent and it does scare me.”
Gale bumped his arm, letting out a snicker. He directed his attention back to the tall flames licking the night sky. “I tend to enjoy these types of parties more than the barn dances these days. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy the barn dances too, but this is much more… Serene? Peaceful?”
“Maybe for some. A little more exciting for others.” Astarion nodded toward Jen and Lae, who were now cuddled together under a blanket near the fire.
Gale followed his line of sight, and let out a hum. “Right. I guess I owe you something for losing that bet.”
“We had a bet on it?” Astarion asked curiously.
“Maybe not a bet, but you were right.”
“I was, wasn’t I? But I’m still interested in this bet. What do I receive for being correct?” Astarion asked with a smirk.
Astarion watched as Gale thoughtfully pressed his finger to his chin, before finally turning back to him. “How about a dance?”
Gale’s cheeks were tinged pink, but Astarion couldn’t tell if it was from the chill of the air or the question being posed. Even so, he found it to be attractive.
“What kind of dance? I’m not doing that stomping business you had me doing before.”
Gale chuckled. “No, like a slow dance.”
Astarion had an idea that was what he meant, but to hear him ask it outright surprised him. There were two warring voices in his mind, one telling him to decline, not to let Gale become too close to him. Another told him to just give in, and allow himself this sliver of happiness.
“Oh, no one’s ever asked me to slow dance before.” Astarion could barely contain the anticipation as he watched Gale stand, his hand delicately held out in offering.
For a few brief seconds, Astarion considered declining. The warring voices in his mind eventually silenced as his chilly hand took Gale’s much warmer hand, and he pulled him to his feet. He doesn’t know the song that’s playing, he doesn’t know any of these songs.
None of that mattered as Gale gripped Astarion’s left hand with his right, and carefully placed his hand near his hip. A far cry from the violent hands that had been there before. Gale had done it while watching Astarion intently as if he were trying to catch any glimpse of discomfort. Astarion felt like he was waiting for the discomfort too, but it never came.
The overwhelming emotions and nerves Astarion was feeling at this moment flooded his mind, and he struggled to look Gale in the eyes. He felt silly, being so bashful about a simple dance.
“I hope your feet are ready to be trampled upon. I have never done this.” Astarion tried to ease his nerves with humor, as he always did.
“We don’t have to do anything serious, just move side to side,” Gale said softly, his body swaying gently.
Astarion followed suit, simply swaying side to side. The music is loud throughout the little field, the air whipping through them and around their close bodies. The little voice telling him that this was a bad idea still chipped away, and he felt guilt welling up inside him as he watched brown eyes look at him as if he were something more than just a thing to be used.
Astarion shivered as the wind cut through his clothes once more.
“Are you comfortable?” Gale asked, seeming to notice his rigidity.
“Oh yes, sorry. I guess it’s just a bit cold.”
“Would you like to dance a little closer?”
Astarion didn’t do much but simply nod, and allowed Gale to pull him to his chest, nestled into the fleece peeking out from inside his flannel jacket. Gale’s beard tickled his forehead slightly, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“How’s that?” Gale’s arms were wrapped around him.
Wonderful in every way imaginable, I hope we don’t leave this position anytime soon.
“It’s… Nice.” That is all Astarion could manage to say.
Pulling the hood away from his face, Gale pulls back and eyes him, the red glow from the fire beautifully illuminating him. There’s a familiar pair of brown eyes searching for something, and Astarion desperately hopes it’s for him. It was worth the risk of pissing off Cazador who might attempt to take his aggression out on Gale, but Astarion wouldn’t allow that.
Astarion realizes that patience is a virtue, and maybe he had it for the right person. Perhaps if Gale were only trying to get in his pants, he would have been a bit more wary. Those efforts so far have proven to be fruitless anyway, and maybe that was for a reason. Astarion was beginning to realize that it didn’t have to happen that way because he and Gale were on two totally different sides of the spectrum when it came to their ideas of being involved with others.
Fortunately for Astarion, Gale was a fully devoted and committed person, even in matters of relationships. He seemed very tender-hearted and easily an unconditional lover. One of those types that would ‘still love you if you were a worm.’ Gale viewed people through the window of their eyes, past the vain exteriors, insecurities, and masks. Gale was thoughtful, kind, and loyal.
Fortunately for Gale, Astarion was learning to be those things, too.
“I was hoping I’d find you here.” That strange unique accent had said to him. Astarion liked hearing that voice.
The expectation was thick between them, the space closing between their faces dwindling. Gale seemed reluctant, so Astarion decided to help him remove that reluctance. With fingers deep into dark brown locks, Astarion closed the space and pressed his lips to Gale’s.