Somewhat Clear

“Are you still mad at me?”

Astarion twitched and sat on the bed, tucking a leg under himself. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am not mad.”

“And yet, you’re not looking at me.” There was a hint of amusement in Staeve’s voice.

Astarion sniffed, irritated. “I’m not avoiding looking at you because I am mad.”

Staeve just outright cackled this time. “Oh gods. I’ve really done it this time. Am I that ugly?”

Astarion didn’t answer. Wicked fingers poked him in the side, and he jumped.

“Unlike some of us, you were blessed with a reflection. Do you want me to get you a mirror?” Astarion hissed. He sighed. “You’re not ugly, stupid. Since when? It’s just—” He couldn’t help the whine in his voice. “Your beautiful hair! Did you have to cut it so short?”

“I told you what happened. It was either this, or walking around smelling like burnt hair.”

Astarion sighed again, and then looked at Staeve. Truth to be told, he didn’t look that much different. It was still his face, and his scar, and his freckles, and his tattoos. The only thing missing was his hair, now cropped so close to his scalp Astarion could see the color of his skin through it. The lack of long, dark strands framing his face made his eyes look even bigger, his smile even more mischievous— not an unattractive look, at all.

And yet.

“I learned lace-braiding for you,” he muttered, childish.

Staeve snorted at him. “Alright. Come here, you ridiculous drama queen.” Without waiting for him to react, he grabbed Astarion’s wrist and put his hand squarely on top of his own head. “Feel how nice it is.”

Astarion’s first reaction was to pull away, startled by the odd, bristly texture, but Staeve didn’t let him, just moving his palm across his scalp, and—

“Oh,” Astarion breathed out.

He’d known that Staeve’s hair was soft; he’d been spending a lot of time touching it in the past few weeks, to put braids in it, or to tie it out of his eyes, or just because; but somehow it felt even softer now, even more touchable, like the plushiest velvet, like a cat’s fur.

His lover smiled up at him like the cat that got into the cream, and let him go. Astarion kept petting his head, distracted by the pleasing texture.

“Feels nice, right?” Staeve teased him, a low purr coloring his voice.

Astarion felt a smile pull at his lips, despite everything. “Yes. Shut up.”

Staeve laughed again, and pulled him into a kiss.