Somewhat Clear

deerna
somewhatclear

Rating: SAFE
Fandom: baldur's gate
Relationship: astarion/staeve
Tags: post-canon, couch cuddles
Wordcount: 655
Notes: staeve belongs to Velnna/MAF.

Summary:

Excerpt:

“You’re such a cat,” Staeve teased Astarion, poking his nose. “You’ll make Slippers jealous.”

“She can deal,” Astarion sniffled, mock-offended. “She did steal my spot, after all.”

Staeve chuckled, and they both glanced down at the kitten curled up on his lap, her nose ridiculously and adorably tucked under her paw. “Don’t be mad at her, she’s very small and her life is very hard,” he cooed, scritching the fur between her ears with a careful fingernail.

“I’m not mad, I’m jealous.”

{ read on AO3 | read here }

The quiet evenings inside were starting to become a favourite of Astarion’s.

He liked cuddling with Staeve, liked the warmth coming from his body, liked hearing the gentle pulse of his heartbeat against his ear when he lay with his head against his chest, liked falling into trance to the comforting drone of his purring.

Staeve wrapped one arm around his shoulders, hand coming up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Are you cold, love? You feel a little cold.”

“A little,” Astarion admitted, because it was true. He didn’t mind—he didn’t mind anymore. It was just another side of existing as a vampire spawn in the colder season.

For the first time in two hundred years, he found himself enjoying the longer nights that he used to dread—more time to share with Staeve in Baldur’s Gate’s streets while they thrummed with life, more time with the blinds open to let the city lights in, more time to tempt Staeve to stay in bed, before he had to get up and take care of daytime errands—but the cold wasn’t something he could easily banish.

Not by himself, at least.

“But you’re warm,” he hummed contentedly at Staeve, shoving his face against his shoulder where his shirt left some skin exposed.

“You’re such a cat,” Staeve teased, poking his nose. “You’ll make Slippers jealous.”

“She can deal,” Astarion sniffled, mock-offended. “She did steal my spot, after all.”

Staeve chuckled, and they both glanced down at the kitten curled up on his lap, her nose ridiculously and adorably tucked under her paw. “Don’t be mad at her, she’s very small and her life is very hard,” he cooed, scritching the fur between her ears with a careful fingernail.

“I’m not mad, I’m jealous,” Astarion pointed out, which made Staeve laugh. He grinned back, and settled more comfortably against Staeve’s shoulder, turning a bit so he could watch the sleeping cat. He itched to touch her, but he also didn’t want her to leave.

“Do you want me to get a blanket for you?”

Astarion pointed at his lap. “You can’t get up. You have a cat on you.”

“The love of my life is freezing, I think she’ll understand.”

“Well, then,” Astarion replied, struggling to talk through the squeeze to his chest he still felt whenever Staeve said things like that as easily as breathing, “I won't forgive you, then. I'll freeze faster if you get up. I am not going to get any warmer, am I?”

Staeve's expression suddenly smoothed out—the slightly blank look he always got when a line of thought fell within himself, things clicking into place.

“Oh,” he said softly, focusing back on Astarion. “I don't know why it never occurred to me before.” He reached out to cradle Astarion's face in his warm hands, to stroke a thumb over his cheekbones, towards his ears. “Is it because of the vampire thing?”

Astarion turned his face into his touch, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “Darling. You know what I am.”

“I didn't mean—I mean you always feeling cold.”

“Well, yes.” He shrugged. “Blood makes up for it a little but I am always cold otherwise. A blanket wouldn't help.”

“Oh.”

“It doesn't bother me really,” Astarion rushed to reassure him. He saw it was bothering Staeve. “I like being warm but I don't suffer from the cold.”

“You don't like it though.”

Astarion huffed. “Of course I don't.”

Staeve shifted, and Sybil gathered herself up and fled the sofa. Before Astarion could scold him for disturbing the kitten, he found himself enveloped in warmth—Staeve’s limbs wrapped around his body and his weight pushing him into the sofa cushions. The deep note of his purring resonated deep in Astarion's gut.

“I'll be your blanket, then,” he murmured right against his cheek, his loose hair tickling him.

Astarion laughed, and pulled him into a kiss.