somewhatclear

deerna
somewhatclear

Rating: SAFE
Fandom: baldur's gate
Relationship: astarion & cazador
Tags: pre-canon, bad flirting
Wordcount: 439
Notes:

Summary:
astarion gets picked up at a club

Excerpt:

Red eyes. Then he became aware of the man they belonged to – a pale elf with elegant, sharp features and black hair. He wasn’t young, nor old, in a timeless way that suggested that years had long stopped having meaning to him. His expression didn’t betray any emotion, except for interested intensity.

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“I think there’s a gentleman calling for you.”

Astarion blinked, taking a distracted sip of his wine, before answering to the man behind the counter. He’d been so deep in thought – and ever so slightly in his cups – he almost forgot where he was. “Excuse me?”

The barman nodded his head to the right, discreetly gesturing at the back of the room while he kept wiping the counter. Astarion, perhaps a little naively, turned to look.

Red eyes. Then he became aware of the man they belonged to – a pale elf with elegant, sharp features and black hair. He wasn’t young, nor old, in a timeless way that suggested that years had long stopped having meaning to him. His expression didn’t betray any emotion, except for interested intensity.

While Astarion studied him, he lifted one slender, jewelled hand, as pale as the rest of him, and curled his finger in a beckoning gesture.

Astarion stared. He had never seen that man before. He was sure of that. It was possible that he might have been someone he had met in court earlier in the day or in the week, but he believed he would have recognised such a peculiar man. From his attire, he seemed rich. A noble, perhaps? Though from where Astarion was sitting, it would have been difficult to discern any patriar sign.

The man beckoned again.

What in the Hells. Sure.

Astarion nodded his thanks to the bartender, grabbed his glass of wine from the counter, and made his way to the far corner of the room, where the man was sitting by himself.

It was probably a bad idea; it was getting late and— he wasn’t drunk, but he had indulged himself enough that he should’ve probably called it a night to sleep it off. But the man’s eyes didn’t leave him as he walked closer, his serious, intense expression didn’t shift even when Astarion stopped to stand right in front of him, a bemused frown on his face.

“Do I know you?” Astarion asked bluntly, too unsettled to mind his manners.

“No.” The stranger’s lips widened slowly in a close-mouthed smile. “I only wanted to see if you’d obey. I was not disappointed.”

Astarion burst out laughing, shocking even himself. He could feel his face burn with mortification and embarrassment, the palms of his hands prickle with cold shame, but he was unable to stop himself.

He so wanted to feel offended at how rude this stranger was but — something about it had made him feel so alive.

Feeling foolish and yet excited, he sat down. “Very well.” He grinned. “You have my attention.”