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Chapter Text

The Chosen Aquatics: Splash Your Way To Better Health!
You don’t have to be a kua-toa to explore these waters, join today and improve your balance, build muscle, and increase your mobility. In Chosen Aquatics, each and every one of you can be “chosen”!
Today’s Instructor: Gale Dekarios

Astarion stares at the giant sign with distaste, already frustrated by the poor use of colors. It’s an awful mix of blues and teals no doubt used in the hopes of simulating the color of water or something equally boring, but the only effect it achieves is pain as Astarion looks at it.

He’s not looking forward to his very first water aerobics class.

He leans forward to hit the automatic door open button, waiting as the pumps engage and swing the whole thing open, and then he pushes forward on his joystick and drives his wheelchair into the pool room.

It’s immediately much warmer and the air is full of steamy mist. His shirt almost instantly slumps against his skin, uncomfortable in the high humidity. He’s relieved it’ll be off soon. A small respite from the otherwise vast array of annoyances he’ll be dealing with.

There’s a comfortable locker room where he can change just to the side of the enormous pool, already beginning to fill with people waiting for the class. There’s still twenty minutes until it begins, so Astarion isn’t sure why the hells they’re already here. He had to come early because of his chair, to make sure the all-accessibility bus got him here on time, the routes often winding and frustratingly long, and to actually get into the building.

But so far there’ve been no issues. A short ride in a newly refurbished bus, the electronic elevator to get in and out actually functioning for once. A nice winding ramp with a slow, easy incline outside the front entrance, and all the doors with working automatic openers.

Another small relief in the wretched hell his life has become.

There are a couple of older people in the locker room, but they pay him no mind as he wheels in. In fact, now that he's paying attention, he notices that there are other wheelchairs and a couple walkers scattered about the locker room. He's among like-bodied company.

Or rather, he sort of is.

A closer look reveals that most of the people around him, and now that he's thinking about it, most of the people that were in the pool, are all elderly. Astarion closes his eyes and tries to keep his exasperated sigh to himself.

Fantastic. He's taking a class for senior citizens.

Astarion is neither senior nor close to being one. But because of his body, because of what happened, now he’s an invalid among grandparents. Wonderful.

Frustrated now, he picks a random floor locker that no one's using, and bangs it open, ignoring how even that small move feels like he’s tried to shove a boulder. He yanks his shirt off with great difficulty and throws it into the empty space. Then he bends forward and shoves off his shoes and socks, one by one. He’s already sweating and panting heavily halfway through, his arms shaking with exertion.

The shoes get thrown in the locker as well, though it’s more a wheezing shove towards the open cavity than anything. Keys, wallet, a tube of lip balm, everything goes in without any attempt to hide it, not that he has the mobility to do so. Who cares if someone steals it, his shitty possessions for his shitty life?

Gods forbid someone take his keys and go steal his junker of a car that he can barely get in or out of that sits rotting in the parking lot outside of his empty, lonely apartment with the lift that sounds like it’ll break every time Astarion uses it. And there’s no money in his cheaply made wallet, the pitiful amount he gets for assistance every month barely enough to eat on.

Good riddance to any of it.

The lip balm he’d miss though.

Luckily Astarion had some foresight and wore his swim trunks here, so he doesn't have to do the embarrassing struggle it takes to get pants on and off in front of other people. He already feels about to pass out from that small amount of movement already, his heart racing.

With another loud bang, he slams the locker shut and then rolls back out into the main pool area. There are more people now, and Astarion confirms that they are all elderly. With a roll of his eyes, he wheels up to the shallow end where there are multiple hand rails and even a ramp.

And then he pauses, realizing with a sort of sick dread that he’ll be able to get into the pool easily enough, sure, but he doesn't actually know how he'll be able to get out of the pool. Not without asking for assistance. The thought of having to do so makes him feel hot with embarrassment.

“Can I help you, young one?”

Astarion bristles at the voice, the one damned thing he was trying to avoid, already angry and ready to bite, when he turns and sees an absolutely towering brick wall of an elf staring down at him with a kind expression.

The elf is hairy. This is shocking enough to Astarion that his venom dries on his tongue. He forces a fake smile. “No help needed, I assure you.” He says, trying to prevent himself from staring directly at the giant elf’s pecs. Or his bulging arms. Or his massive hands.

Gods, it’s been far too long since Astarion’s had sex.

He’s realizing now, with horror, as he looks at this absolute unit of an elf, that he’s extremely pent up.

He’s old enough be your dad, his mind shouts angrily. And it’s accurate, to be fair, taking a quick moment to scan the other’s face. Elves age different from other races, but the signs are there. Some wrinkles and faint lines mar his otherwise youthful face. He bears an interesting width of scars across his forehead, down from the hairline towards his eyes, a slashing diagonal of scars. This peaks Astarion’s interests enough to forgo both his lust and his anger, and he finds himself sitting a little straighter in his chair.

Perhaps he could ask this guy for help at the end of class.

As he debates the consequences of admitting he’d need it, namely his pride and his ego both beaten down even further, another voice calls over towards them.

“Leave the new guy alone, you don’t need another notch.”

It’s a woman, a half-elf, her face much more lined but also strikingly beautiful with silvery hair tied up into a neat plait and wrapped safely into a bun. Her voice is deep and rich, with a slight accent Astarion can’t place. She hustles up to the much taller elven man and shoves at his shoulder. “Go on, git, hurry or you’ll lose your spot to—”

“A-ha! It is time for the cannonball!”

Another man, this one as big as the elf, maybe bigger, somehow, comes sprinting into the pool room and lunges for the water. Astarion catches sight of an enormous purple tattoo and a shining shaven head.

There’s a loud resounding splash as this gigantic man lands into the water, sending a spray into all the others in the pool. It even reaches the edge where Astarion’s chair sits, though luckily none of it gets on the metal.

He's expecting the people in the pool to be angry, or frustrated at this display of raucous behavior in an otherwise quiet, serene group of people. But to his surprise, most of the people in the pool start clapping.

One regular-sized human man gives a smooth, musical whistle and throws his fist into the air. “A resounding splash today, my good chum! Excellent showing!”

The tall hunk of an elf at his side curses softly and takes off, also diving into the pool, though with a much sleeker splash of his own. Clearly in a hurry, Beefcake rushes to Bald Tattoo near the front, or what Astarion assumes is the front based on the woman’s words, and catches him there. They tussle briefly, a pair of powerful men gripping each other by the biceps and trying to push each other. Astarion’s not sure whether they’re about to punch one another or kiss one another, but in only a moment, the elf has the human in a headlock and then they’re both laughing and clapping each other on the shoulders.

Astarion stares in shock at all of them. This class is full of weirdos.

“Don’t worry too much about them, they’re both harmless, despite their largeness.” The woman says at his side, catching his attention once more. She, at least, seems relatively normal. She looks down at him with one perfectly arched brow raised. “I’m sure you know this already, but, the humidity in here is not going to make friends with your ride.”

Astarion blushes lightly, not as embarrassed as he normally is when people point out his chair, somehow soothed by this woman’s smooth voice and cool air of nonchalance. But he should have realized on his own that metal and extremely damp air wouldn’t match.

Stupid.

So stupid of him.

Why the hells did his doctor recommend a water aerobics class in the first place. Did he think Astarion would just roll into the pool?

The woman’s voice stops his inward spiral. “I know they look a little unreliable, but don’t worry, the waterchairs are actually quite comfortable.” She gestures towards an area Astarion hadn’t noticed yet, too focused on the people to see.

There’s an alcove full of some sort of aquatic wheelchairs, all their parts seem to be made of plastic and canvas. Of course, what a fool. How did he not realize there would be something like this to assist him. This facility had come with massive recommendations and all assurances that he’d be fully independent even needing a chair.

Though it’s another hit to his pride, he dips his head in gratitude, but just barely. “…Thanks.”

The woman doesn’t seem to mind or care about his manners, giving a brusque nod in return and simply walking away from him.

It’s refreshing. Has Astarion relaxing slightly, the tight knot of shame that lives in his chest at all times unraveling, just a bit. These people don’t care if he’s in a chair. They don’t care who he is or why he’s like this. They’re just here to exercise and get healthy. They’ll pay him no mind.

He motors his way towards the alcove, seeing more bright signage with clear instructions, examples provided on how to use this system. It takes a moment of reading, but Astarion gets the gist of it, rolling into a grooved section where his wheels fit securely.

With a push of a button, a bar with wrist straps descends from above, low enough that Astarion can slip his hands through their loops, appreciating how soft and comfortable they are. After a short wait, the bar slowly lifts, up above Astarion’s head, and it lifts Astarion too, right up out of his chair. Onto shaking legs that no longer support his weight and may never do so again.

The bar holds all of his weight, allows him to stand for the quick moment it takes for his chair to be moved backwards on the rails and a waterchair slides in its place, just as quick. The bar begins to lower and Astarion’s seated in this odd, bulbous contraption that looks like if a wheelchair was made of long balloons instead of metal.

It has a motor too, though, and Astarion backs out of the alcove and follows garish neon yellow arrows towards a gentle ramp at the back of the pool. At the top of the ramp, painted letters read ‘Your Adventure Begins!’ and then smaller, below that, ‘Waterchair Dock, Please Reverse Here’.

More grooves for the chair to sit in and Astarion does as instructed, reversing into them. A railing at his side has another button for him and he presses it. A quiet but powerful machine rumbles somewhere and the chair is slowly guided backwards down the ramp, held by something in the wheels, magnets perhaps, Astarion hasn’t the faintest idea, but he’s beginning to fill with an emotion he hasn’t felt in quite some time.

Delight.

The water is warm, not a shock at all, and Astarion shivers at the feel as his body is slowly lowered down into it. When it reaches his chest, the chair levels out and is moved further still to the wall of the pool, where two other waterchairs sit empty and waiting.

He’s not the only one.

Something unclenches inside. They won’t stare at him when it’s time to get out. And no one is staring now, he realizes, looking over the crowd again. Perhaps twenty or so people, and not a one is gawking at him.  No one is giving furtive looks or whispering about him.

He feels…normal for the first time in ages.

There’s a collection of flotation aides on a rack on the side of the pool, but even though Astarion no longer feels like actively drowning himself, he should be fine.

The first push off the chair changes everything.

Astarion’s body is a weak, rotted thing, his muscles all atrophied into nothing while he was in a coma, entombed in his body for a full year, trapped inside of himself.  Time and life continued on as his body decayed into the quivering mess it is now, barely able to lift his arms without breaking a sweat.

Two months he’s been awake, only to find his fiancé Sebastian had moved on as he slept, not that Astarion blames him after what he did to them both.

The car accident was his fault, after all. High on a concoction most likely spiked with something it shouldn’t have been from his shady dealer Seb always warned him about and too much alcohol, he’d hit that pole all on his own.

But Sebastian had walked away, thank the gods, and Astarion, well, he may never walk unassisted again, even if this wretched class helps him build his muscle back.

Silver lining though, a year in a coma makes for an easy overcoming of addition. No need to struggle through withdrawal when you’re dead to the world for the entirety of it.

He’s only here at the behest of his sister, the good one, after barging into his apartment and nearly shaking him, ruining what had been a truly top-tier brooding session in the dark of his living room, and telling him to get moving.

It’s time to start living again, she’d said.

Astarion only agreed to shut her up, allowing her to get him set up with this facility.

But now, here in the water, for the first time since waking up, Astarion feels free.

His body, despite the lack of body fat and perhaps because it’s not weighed down by muscle, floats easily, and he wades forward with minimal effort until the floor dips away. He notices different sections of the floor for people of differing heights, and there’s a cheerful looking deep gnome up near the front standing easily with the water to his chest.

Astarion wades towards the back, grateful to find a level that works for him, and as he sets his feet towards the floor and plants them there, for the first time since waking from his coma, he stands unassisted.

His breath rushes quick with sharp emotion, excitement the most prevalent, but then his eyes sting with unshed tears and he takes a steadying breath in an attempt to calm himself. There’s no need to put on a show, not when he’s enjoying the anonymity of the back so nicely. The water makes for an excellent staring partner and he looks down at it until he’s calmed enough to keep him from doing something ridiculous like crying.

His feet seem to wobble in the water’s distortion, his body humorously stunted through its illusory warping swirls. It laps warm against his chest and he let’s out a deep, satisfied breath. It takes barely any effort to stand here, the water doing most of the work of keeping him upright.

It’s incredibly calming, and Astarion will have to call Aurelia later and thank her. Begrudgingly, of course.

The chatter of multiple conversations grows louder around him, everyone’s impatience and excitement nearly palpable as the clock ticks closer to the class’s start time. Astarion’s never met so many people excited by exercise and he’s not necessarily in agreement with them, but there’s a certain echo of anticipation within himself as well. He hasn’t really moved since he’s woken, preferring to simply rot away in his chair.

The clock ticks to the hour and the room almost immediately quiets. Everyone waits with bated breath and Astarion’s skin tingles, lured into the shared anticipation. And then, the instructor walks out from the locker room and Astarion almost drowns.

The guy is a total babe.

A human, not old, young like Astarion, with long dark hair he’s got all gathered up in a messy topknot. He’s bearded and just as hairy as the giant elf, but darker, and Astarion’s mouth falls open as he follows the thick thatch of hair down over a toned chest and belly, all the way down to where it trails out of sight beneath the waist of an extremely form-fitting purple speedo.

Astarion’s staring at long, lean legs as the man – hells what was his name again, it was on that wretched sign – smoothly steps into the pool.

It’s like he was made for the water, easily moving through it as sleek as a sea creature. Perhaps there’s some merfolk blood in his ancestry or perhaps he’s just that elegant, but Astarion can’t take his eyes off him.

Which is good, him being the instructor and all.

He moves towards the front end of the pool, where that giant elf had fought so fiercely to keep his ‘spot’, the woman had called it, and now Astarion understands why he fought so fiercely. The instructor is mere feet away up there. If he had a little more power of his own, perhaps he'd fight for the front as well.

But he's grateful to be back here, out of everyone's eyesight as he flounders awkwardly in the water. The safety of the back means he doesn't have to be watched or perceived, or so he thinks.

The instructor looks out over all of his students, a friendly smile on his handsome face. There are faint crinkles at the corners of his dark eyes that scan the crowd and Astarion jolts in surprise as they pause on him.

He looks away quickly, angry at how hot his face feels for being caught staring. But that's silly, he's supposed to stare. He's supposed to look at the teacher. Feigning a look of indifference, despite his burning cheeks, Astarion looks up again and finds he's still being looked at.

That handsome smile widens, and the instructor gives him a quick nod as if he knows him, and Astarion doesn't know what to do with that. It's been a fair bit of time since someone's held his eyes and not looked away in discomfort or immediately looked at his wheelchair instead.

But of course he's not in his wheelchair right now, so there's nothing to distract from his face. Why, for a moment, while in the water, he possibly looks like a normal person again.

Might as well enjoy it, brief though it will be.

He smiles back, pouting his lips just a bit and morphing his face into his most flirtatious expression he knows. With a little lift of his brows, he sends a wink to the hot instructor, hoping for some flirting in return.

But instead of anything salacious, the instructor smiles deeper, his eyes going fond like he’s seeing someone he cares about, which throws Astarion off balance so much, he nearly slips his footing.

But then the moment ends, the instructor looking away to address the class as a whole. “Welcome back to our long-time members and welcome to all of our new friends.”

Astarion bites back the scoff, hot instructor or no. Friends. So it’s going to be one of those types of classes.

“I’m Gale and I’m looking forward to seeing the best you can be today. Let’s get started with some easy movements to warm-up.” He gestures over to the side of the pool to someone and then music starts playing.

It’s contemporary hits, smooth listening, old people music, and Astarion fights another grimace as the instructor, Gale, starts leading the group in slow, sweeping arm movements under the water, back and forth.

“Excellent!” Gale enthuses as the class begins to mimic him, his voice bright and annoyingly peppy. “Remember to keep those hands flat as you glide them through the water, like you’re cutting through it. You’re encouraged to turn them, like you’re trying to catch the water as you move. But if that resistance gets to be too much, please flatten them again. We don’t need any heroes here today.”

There’s a light scattering of laughter, even though the comment wasn't exactly a joke. Astarion wonders how much of this class comes here solely to perv on the teacher. Though, as he moves his hands through the water, he finds that even with his hands held flat and parallel to the floor, it's still immensely difficult. After just a few seconds, his heartrate has already kicked up.

“Fantastic everyone, now let's move into a nice gentle underwater flap.” Again the class quickly moves to repeat his movements. “You can keep your hands flat to reduce resistance, chop chop chopping through the air, or you may turn your hands to catch the water. Just don’t fly out of the pool, now!”

Another scattering of laughter, and Astarion feels like gagging, rolling his eyes again and then actually wincing as it hurts this time. The things people will do for an attractive person.

Astarion finds the whole concept ridiculous, how pathetic people can be for a pretty face and a hot body. It’s entirely unimportant that Astarion thinks Gale’s attractive too, and completely unrelated to the fact that Astarion, before his accident, was also one of those attractive people too.

Now no one gives him a second glance.

But the more pressing issue is that he's been here less than five minutes and his arms are already killing him, he's not sure how he's going to last the entire hour. There's no way for him to leave the pool without loudly announcing his departure, thanks to needing the water chair and the ramp. Perhaps he can save himself the embarrassment and just secretly drown back here.

Even worse, Gale starts moving into the group, effortlessly weaving through the other students and offering guidance and support as he goes.

“Excellent form, Barcus, well done!” then “A little bit more, Vlaakith, one can’t simply wish for stronger arms, there we go, just like that” and on and on, every person addressed until, horribly, he comes all the way to the back and stops right in front of Astarion.

Astarion who’s still doing his best to move his arms through the water but is out of breath and trembling, face flushed with ugly embarrassment and fatigue. Now, under Gale’s intense gaze, a pair of the warmest brown eyes he’s ever seen watching him, he feels like he’s going to throw up.

“It’s Astarion, yes?” Gale asks and Astarion’s stomach surges anxiously as he nods. “Welcome to my class, I look forward to training with you.”

Gale’s eyes crinkle at the edges again and he reaches out to pat once on Astarion’s shoulder. It’s light but it sends shockwaves through his body, both the weight of it and the heat. Even as Astarion almost buckles beneath it, he’s curling towards its warmth. The first time someone who isn’t a doctor or family has touched him in recent memory.

Gods, and it has to be someone Astarion finds so dreadfully attractive, here, in this moment, as he’s shivering like a newborn foal and just as bad at moving.

Gale’s hand pulls away, a pity, and then those eyes are flicking over Astarion’s movements. But there’s no judgement or derision in them, only the same bright kindness as before.

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to come off too strict,” He says, his smile so warm and sweet, Astarion doubts he’s ever been called strict by anyone. “But I request that all new students use a flotation aid for at least their first full week.” Seemingly from nowhere, as if by magic, Gale produces a compact tube of foam meant to be secured around the chest like a belt and holds it up. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

Astarion takes the offered belt without thinking, realizing that, despite his ego, he doesn’t have to say no to this. Whether Gale is simply following his own rules, or whether he’s knowingly giving Astarion an out, he doesn’t care.

Another minute and his trembling legs are going to give out.

Though his hands shake as he does so, he pulls the straps around his back and clips them together over his sternum. The foam attached to the straps is incredibly dense and buoyant, and the moment Astarion puts it on, it tugs him upward, taking the strain off his legs.

Thank the gods.

His relief is immediate and he takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of floating, his feet now just barely flat on the floor.

Gale watches him for another silent moment, and then he smiles his widest yet. “I’m glad you’re here, Astarion. Your sister told me about you.”

Astarion is taken aback by that, momentarily stunned. And then a sharp surge of renewed shame and anger rushes through him so hard, he goes light-headed. But he recovers, swallowing it all down.

Fucking Aurelia, he’s going to strangle her.

Trying for light-hearted despite his still-panting breaths, he adopts what he hopes is a look of airy disinterest. “Oh? She told you my sordid little secret, did she? That saves me the trouble then, of having to explain it, of having to relive my little mistake all over again. And you too, my dear, saves you the trouble of wasting your time on me, thinking I’m a pitiful little creature only to find out what a monster I am.”

The words end harsher than he meant them to, his face falling as he realizes how insane he sounds. If Aurelia told Gale about the accident, how he almost killed his fiancé…

“You’re not a monster.” Gale says simply.

Astarion almost laughs at that, or he would if he could laugh anymore, and then his chest tightens. The noises of the class around them seem to dim, only the two of them standing here talking. Gale’s words ring out in his head almost painful, and Astarion realizes just how much he’s wanted to hear someone say this to him.

Gale takes one step closer, reaches up to pat his shoulder again, but it lingers this time. Astarion’s breath catches in his throat, heart hammering from the proximity but also, the compassion in Gale’s eyes boring in to him.

“You turned the wheel, Astarion.”

And the floor falls away beneath his feet, only the sturdy strap made of pool noodles around his chest holding him upright. He’s frozen, stuck between this moment and that one, in the car, when they slid off the road, careening towards that pole and Astarion’s last memory jerking the steering wheel, turning the car so Sebastian’s side was safe, so that his side struck the telephone pole—

How dare she tell Gale this? How dare she give intimate details to a stranger? When it doesn’t matter that Astarion did that, Seb was only in danger because of him in the first place, only a victim because Astarion made him one.

No wonder he’d left him.

“I apologize for overstepping, if I have.” Gale says, his voice soft yet perfectly clear. “You made a mistake, but you’re not a monster, Astarion. Everyone makes mistakes. I’m no stranger to them myself.” And he gestures towards his chest where Astarion takes notice for the first time of a very strange spiraling scar at the base of his neck, right in the center of his ribs.

It’s incredibly faint, hard to even make out the shape, especially with water reflecting and distorting its image, even as close as they are.

But Gale steps backwards, hand regrettably leaving his skin, and gives him a thoughtful look. “It’s hard to forgive ourselves, but it’s part of the process. Your body will heal faster if your mind is ready to move forward too. I’m glad you’re here, Astarion. I hope you enjoy the class.”

Then he’s slipping away, cutting through the water as seamless as a ship’s prow, checking on the other people that yes, Astarion did forget about momentarily. He tells himself he does not feel slighted as Gale easily touches others the same as he did him. A reassuring pat on the shoulder here, a correction of posture there, the others all lean into his hands.

When Gale returns to the front, Astarion watches as that giant elf from earlier, the one who’d wrestled for that front, stands up taller, eyes shining as they watch Gale maneuver past. Astarion momentarily wonders if they’re partners, but then Gale turns a polite but professional smile towards that face that towers above him and he relaxes.

It’s not relief that he feels, most definitely not.

Just…curiosity, of course.

As their warm-up transitions into the actual workout session, Astarion is immensely grateful for the flotation device snapped snugly around his chest. It takes so much effort off of his legs, which helps specifically when they move to the leg portion of the class.

By the end, Astarion aches, his body wracked with pain, like he’s covered in exposed nerves and rolling in nails. Everything throbs sharp and hot, and he’s so grateful for the automatic ramp as he drags himself back into the waterchair. It takes him a fair bit of maneuvering and he’s the last one in the pool by the time he’s seated.

Gale comes over again, and Astarion tries to sit up straight, he really does, but it’s a wasted effort. He slumps, gripping the armrests for support, at least managing to keep the grimace off his face. He could pass out right here if not for the imminent threat of drowning.

But the floor is higher here, at the chair dock, so by the time Gale comes to stand before him, he’s mostly out of the water and Astarion stares somewhat helplessly as rivulets of water slip and drip down that enticing chest and stomach. He spares one quick glance to the sodden fabric of Gale’s tiny speedo and has to whip his eyes away before he starts drooling.

But Gale bends down and places his hand over Astarion’s where it grips the armrest, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“You did fantastic today, Astarion. I hope to see you next class.”

Do his fingers linger, or is Astarion just that touch-starved? There’s no way to tell, but he stares hungrily as Gale turns to walk away, eyes locking on to the absolutely illegal truck of an ass that had until this moment been hidden beneath the water.

Astarion will be returning for the next class, no question.

Chapter Text

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Astarion keeps attending the class.

It actually becomes the best parts of his week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, every week, late afternoon. That single hour three times a week is sometimes the only reason Astarion gets out of bed.

It’s often the reason he struggles to get out of bed, too.

The first few weeks, his body is a mess. Cramping, muscle spasms, aches so bad he feels as if he’s feeling the aftereffects of the car accident like some sort of divine punishment for sleeping through them the first time. At times he shakes so badly, he feels he’s actively harming himself rather than healing.

But beyond that, after the cramps and the fatigue, Astarion starts to feels good.

He’s getting stronger. The pace is frustratingly slow, but still, progress is progress, he supposes. At the third week mark, he manages to get to the end of class without feeling like he’s dying. And midway through the fourth week, he’s dressing himself without nearly blacking out from exertion.

It’s in his shower, after a particularly rough pain day, as he’s sitting on the little plastic shower chair and hosing himself off with the handheld showerhead that he notices it.

A muscle.

His bicep, to be clear. As he’s holding the showerhead and moving, it flexes. He nearly drops the damn thing in excitement, shouting so loud in jubilant shock that the neighbors bang on the wall.

“Shove it, Raglin, or I’ll tell the supe you’ve got secret roommates!” He shouts without any real vitriol, beaming at his arm.

He can’t wait to show Gale.

The next class, it’s even better than he imagined, Gale giving him the biggest grin and actually placing his hand on Astarion’s arm, squeezing the growing muscle and whistling as he does so. Astarion doesn’t even care if it’s for show, doesn’t care that Halsin’s eyeing them from the front with a forlorn yearning in his eyes.

All he can focus on is the heat of Gale’s hand and how it lingers, just as exhilarating as the first time Gale touched him, and every time after that, whether it’s a slow slide of hands adjusting his posture or another squeeze of the shoulder, each one sends shivers racing down Astarion’s spine and pooling in ways that make him grateful his entire body is submerged in water.

When Gale moves away, Jaheira turns to give him a pointed look, and he blushes, defiantly refusing to look away even though he’s sure he’s bright red.

Jaheira tuts at him, smirking. “Careful now, Astarion,” She says furtively, her voice full of teasing. “Any more obvious and you’ll surely make Halsin cry.”

Astarion rolls his eyes and pushes his shoulders back, chin tipping upwards, defiant as he stage whispers back, “If that bleeding heart of a man can’t accept that Gale’s not interested, then that’s hardly my fault.”

Jaheira chuckles, the smooth rasp of her voice soft over the sounds of lapping water. “And you know what our benevolent teacher is interested in, do you?”

Astarion flushes anew, fighting to keep from reacting. Jaheira loves to tease him, he’s known that since the second week, when Gale did a demonstration up on the edge of the pool in one of his tight little speedos that left little to the imagination. Well, to be fair, it only did so if you were actively staring at his speedo.

…Which Astarion just so happened to be doing.

And when Gale bent over to show off a leg lift move he wanted everyone to repeat, Astarion may have swallowed a mouthful of pool water and spent the next three minutes hacking and wheezing in the last row, Jaheira slapping him briskly on the back and staring at him with a knowing look.

Since then, she’s made it her mission to antagonize him.

He adores her.

“I know he’s not interested in Halsin,” He finally counters quietly, shooting a look up to the front. Halsin isn’t staring at him any longer but is instead doing his exercises with a vigor that is clearly an attempt to get Gale’s attention. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Well, funnily enough, Halsin can’t see that, and neither, I suspect, can Gale.” She maintains her stare, as if daring Astarion to deny this.

Which, he can’t. Whether Gale’s just that smooth or if he’s truly oblivious, their intrepid instructor seems completely unaware of Halsin’s interests, placidly smiling at the towering elf whenever Halsin comes near, always offering a supporting word and enthusiastic encouragement.

“Well…whatever.” Astarion grouses, sinking a little into the water. “He shouldn’t be hanging around him like that anyway, it’s harassment.”

Jaheira gives a sharp bark of laughter, several of the others turning to give them backwards glances. “Bah,” She says, dismissively, before lowering her voice once more. “He’s smitten, same as you.”

“Excuse me, ‘smitten’?!”

Jaheira ignores his muffled outburst. “And Gale’s a grown man, if he’s truly uncomfortable, he can stand up for himself and request Halsin back off easily enough. But…he does not seem to mind, does he?”

Astarion does not sulk, but he shoots Jaheira a dirty look. “…No.”

“Nor does he mind when you beckon him over to rub your arms.”

 Astarion sputters defensively and raises his arm out of the water, brandishing it like evidence. “I was simply showing off my progress!”

“Of course you were, no ulterior motives here.”

Her face is so smug, Astarion feels like shooting water at it, but he doesn’t want to draw any more attention his way, not with his face surely red as an apple, given how hot his cheeks feel. He sinks a little bit further into the water, until it laps at his chin, and he mutters under his breath, “Shrill old harpy.”

But Jaheira’s fond laugh lets him know she heard him and isn’t mad.

The rest of the class continues on as normal, and Astarion’s pleased to find he’s actually still able to move without too much difficulty by the end. Another piece of proof that he’s healing. He’s exiting the alcove in his wheelchair after just returning the waterchair, when Jaheira calls for him.

“Astarion! Come over here.”

She’s standing with a few of the people from class, most notably Halsin, who’s staring at Astarion already with what must be jealousy or something else, Astarion can’t quite read it. But Minsc is there too, that big bald tattooed man that Astarion is still a little wary of.

Minsc is bit too strange for Astarion’s tastes, and often makes him feel like he’s missing out on part of the conversation. His age is inscrutable, he’s either roughly Astarion’s age in human years or fifty years older, it’s impossible to tell.

It’s with great trepidation that Astarion directs his chair over. Normally he only talks with Jaheira, though he does at least know most everyone’s name by now.

Jaheira gives him a smile as he wheels to a stop at her side. “Ah, good boy, I have a question for you. Are you free tonight?”

He’s wary. “For what?”

“Some of us are going over to the Elfsong Tavern, we want to invite you.”

Astarion’s stomach drops and he forces a casual air of disappointment onto his face rather than the nausea he feels. “Ah, apologies, but I don’t drink, so…” Of course they won’t want him there, a sad reminder of the dangers of drinking and what it means to truly fuck up one’s life, and Astarion doesn’t want to watch people get drunk.

“Oh, we’re not going to be drinking.” Jaheira says, matter of fact. “Well, someone might have a beverage or two, but we’re just going for dinner and the show.”

That has Astarion perking up somewhat. He hasn’t been out since he’d woken up, and his meals have all consisted of cheap delivery food. A meal at a real restaurant sounds divine. And the promise of entertainment even more so. But going into a tavern, having to be sociable with others outside of class…

He's not sure about that.

Jaheira turns away from him, lifting her hand to her mouth. “Gale! Elfsong tonight? Come convince Astarion to join us.”

It’s not possible to turn into sludge and sink away into nothing in a wheelchair, Astarion suddenly realizes, hunching down in embarrassment as he hears Gale easily jog over, wet floor be damned. His face is burning as a hand lands on his shoulder.

He risks a glance upwards, praying he doesn’t look too horrific and blotchy, to see Gale beaming down at him with hope in his eyes like a gods damned golden retriever.

“Do say you’ll come too, Astarion.” He says with such earnest care that it makes Astarion’s whole body tingle.

“I. I don’t know.” Astarion squeaks in response, eyes wide and more heat rushing to his face.

Gale actually kneels to look him head on, hand shifting to lay over Astarion’s on his armrest, and his eyes turn beseeching. “Please come, Astarion. I want you to come.”

He’s going to die. His heart is going to literally explode and he’s going to barf it out. Absolutely frozen in his chair and with his blood rushing through his ears loud enough to put a bomb to shame, Astarion nods. He nods because if he doesn’t, he’s going to get an erection from Gale saying ‘I want you to come’ to him in that soft, deep voice.

Gale claps briskly over his hand and grins, moving to stand easily as he pulls away. “Wonderful!” And then he’s turning to address the rest of the group. “I’ve got to finish some paperwork and then lock down the pool area, so I’ll meet you all there.”

Astarion can’t watch him leave. He’s mortified. There’s a sound of a muffled snicker from Jaheira and he shoots her an outraged look, finding her openly snorting into her hand. Looking up also grants him a peek at Halsin’s face too, frowning at Astarion like he’s just been betrayed.

Under his breath, hoping only Jaheira hears him, he mutters, “Not. A. Word.”

Thankfully, she listens.

But Minsc doesn’t.

“Astarion! You look as if you are becoming a giant red tomato!” The big lummox booms, voice echoing off the walls of the pool room. “If something is distressing you, tell Minsc and he will punch it to pieces!”

After that, Astarion can’t really remember much, far too focused on trying to strangle himself with the strap of his gym bag hanging off the back of his wheelchair as he follows the little group out of the gym and onto the sidewalk. The tavern is apparently only a ten minute walk away, so they all make their way together, luckily no one focusing on him as they go. The fresh air helps disperse the taste of shame from his tongue.

The tavern itself is gorgeous, enough so that Astarion manages to momentarily forget his appalling behavior and he looks around the wide open room with wonder. This is certainly much classier than the joints he used to frequent.

As they’re lead to a sizable table, they pass by a small raised stage where a lovely purple tiefling woman is singing. She’s seated on a stool with her legs crossed, the lifted foot bouncing in time with the beat of her song.

Astarion momentarily forgets he’s in his chair, filled with a sense of comfort and enjoyment rare to him even before the accident.

There was a reason he’d gotten to that point, after all.

But he’s not thinking about that as they all take a place, Astarion not needing a separate chair but able to wheel right up to the circular table and finding it a perfect height to put his elbows on. Jaheira sits on his right, Minsc right next to her. Halsin looks like he’s momentarily going to sit on Astarion’s left, but then seems to think better of it, shuffling one more seat away. That deep gnome that Astarion initially disliked on sight, but who’s actually quite friendly, sits opposite Astarion, and Vlaakith sits at his side, next to Halsin. Thus their little circle is complete, except for Gale who, Astarion realizes with a lurch, will be sitting right next to him.

Their menus come out, courtesy of a distracted looking tiefling woman who’s clearly more interested in the singer on stage than of them.

“I’ll give you all a minute to look over, alright loves? Anyone want to start with a drink?”

Astarion’s stomach lurches again and he pointedly looks away. Will they be upset if he just orders water?

But Jaheira speaks up, voice clear but not interrupting the song. “We’ll share some of the house punch, please. Bring us two pitchers—”

“Minsc has a warrior’s thirst, Jaheira!” Minsc says, making the table rattle and the music skip a beat.

“Make that three pitchers, please.” Jaheira sighs. “And our apologies to Alfira for the volume. Again.”

The server flashes her a grin, clearly familiar with this group, or at the very least, with Jaheira and Minsc. “No worries, dollface, be back in a jiff.”

She leaves in the direction of the bar, and Astarion watches as Jaheira turns to level a glare at Minsc, slapping him not terribly hard on the arm. “Let’s try to not interrupt Alfira’s set tonight, alright, you great big terror?”

Not bothered one bit by the hit or the words, Minsc ducks down ever so slightly towards the table and says in a stage whisper that’s as loud as a normal speaking voice, “Ah, many sorries, my Wychlaran, it will not happen again.”

The word is foreign to Astarion, and his confusion must show, because Jaheira sighs again. “Wychlaran,” She says, a little bit of fondness entering her otherwise stony expression. “A word from Minsc’s homeland. It’s basically him calling me an old witch.”

“Not just an old witch,” Minsc adds, still doing his loud whisper. “But a wise old witch. Jaheira is a true force of nature on the battlefield. Minsc will never forget it.”

“We were stationed together in the military, in the same regiment during that incident you might be old enough to know about, the Bhaalspawn Conflict over in Amn.”

Now that is a revelation, and Astarion suddenly feels like a very small fish in a very large sea, regardless of the lack of pool currently. “That’s…incredible, I had no idea you were war heroes.”

But Jaheira waves her hand dismissively. “Bah, we were just doing our jobs and there were many many others there as well, including our sweet dear Vlaakith.”

At the other side of the table, there’s a sharp noise of discontent, Vlaakith frowning deeply and crossing her long, thin arms. “How dare you reveal my age.”

Jaheira rolls her eyes, clearly unconcerned. “No one is buying the ‘only ninety years old’ spiel, Vlak, give it up already.”

There’s a brief flurry as they all fight their laughter, Astarion joining in but doing his best to hide it. Vlaakith may be a bony old thing, but there’s a steely power to her Astarion would rather not cross.

There’s grumbling protest from the elder gith but no further words, and Jaheira turns back to Astarion. “Like I was saying, there’s no need to deify anyone here, we’re just people who did our duty, but I thank you for the sentiment.”

They talk a little longer about the incident itself, which is fascinating to Astarion who only ever heard about it in school, and he quite forgets to look at his menu. When the server returns, he’s scrambling to read through while the others give their orders. He’s halfway down the giant thing when he realizes he’s not going to be able to afford this on his budget.

His face grows hot as the server, Lakrissa, her tag reads, looks to him, expression expectant. There’s a terrifying moment when Astarion feels as if he’s going to be sick, the shame at being unable to afford something like a hamburger, it’s so thick it surges up his throat.

A moment passes, surely his face is blood red by now, and the enticing image of grabbing the table and throwing it up in the air as a distraction so he can wheel out of the building at top speed flashes before his eyes.

Then Jaheira speaks up again, “Oh, forgive me, I know you like to know this ahead of time, Lakrissa, but tonight will all be one shared tab. Keep it open for drinks later, yes?”

“No problemo, Jay, I’ll let Boss Man know.”

“Oh, and Astarion,” Jaheira returns her attention to him, voice light and teasing. “I recommend the sirloin, it’s top notch.”

The incessant pounding of his blood through his ears slows, and Astarion’s body unclenches a fraction. Thank the gods. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth or turn down a free meal, especially if someone’s urging him to splurge, Astarion gives Lakrissa a warm smile.

“That sounds delectable, actually. Rare, with double fries, please. Oh!” He calls, as she’s beginning to turn away. “And a chocolate milkshake.”

The smile she flashes towards him is impressed, and with a curt nod, she’s off.

Astarion thrums with excitement. He hasn’t had a solid meal, or a steak, in ages. Even before the accident, most of his money went to drugs and alcohol and other useless things. And after, his diet of frozen meals and greasy delivery, he’s already salivating.

The conversation returns to the Bhaalspawn Incident, though Astarion’s only half listening, too excited for the food and anxiously watching every time a tray comes out from the direction of the kitchen.

His milkshake comes first, and he’s practically vibrating with need as he brings the straw to his mouth, that first sip of cold, creamy chocolate like an explosion on his tastebuds and he actively groans in delight.

“Oh that must be good to make you sound like that.”

And Astarion’s face floods with heat all over again because that’s Gale’s voice, right beside him, he hadn’t even heard him walk up, and he shoots a quick glance to his side to see Gale standing beside the empty chair next to him, because of course that’s Gale’s chair, he’d completely forgotten, and of course Gale pulls it out to take a seat, giving Astarion one of those dazzling smiles of his.

“I’m tempted to order one myself, judging by your reaction.”

And Astarion, thank all the bastard gods, instead of opening his mouth and braying like a horse or something equally nonsensical, somehow manages to swallow that down and speak in a tone that sounds calm and composed, despite the riot in his chest. “Oh, I absolutely recommend, my dear. Besides,” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning closer and sparking with pleasure as Gale leans in too. “Jaheira foolishly decided to cover everyone’s meals, so I say, let them eat cake, or in my case, steak.”

“Ooh, duly noted.” Gale says in very serious voice even as his large, lovely eyes are bright with mirth. He taps his nose like he’s just been told a grave secret and Astarion fights the urge to bite it off Gale’s face and chew on it like a piece of salt-water taffy.

Good gods. He really is pent up. His time celibate has turned him strange, it seems.

He leans back in his seat with reluctance, wishing he could stay and whisper with Gale for longer, but their food is arriving, and Astarion’s focus is briefly pulled away from his carnal hunger to his regular hunger.

His plate is enormous to account for all the fries and the meat’s still sizzling from the grill as it’s placed before him. Saliva floods his mouth and he’s picking up his fork and the steak knife when he realizes that Gale’s getting a sizeable plate too, somehow, and it’s almost identical to his own.

“How did you…?” Astarion hadn’t heard anyone give an extra order, unless he’d been truly that distracted when picking his own.

“Ah, I ordered ahead, so I could eat with you all after I finished my paperwork.” He’s looking at Astarion’s order, still wearing that infuriatingly sexy smile. “What a coincidence, ey? Great minds think alike, it seems.”

Gale also has a sizzling steak in front of him, which is absolutely coincidence enough, but he also has a double order of his side, and that makes Astarion feel like he should be proposing.

Just one problem though, or at least, he tries to make it one to distract himself from thinking streaks make them soulmates.

“Eugh, onion rings. An inferior choice, Gale.” His voice does not waver when he says the other’s name, it doesn’t. “Should have gone with french fries, they’re far superior.”

Gale’s watching him, just watching him, and Astarion wants to shove him, slap him, kiss him, make him stop, when Gale tilts his head, and gives a soft snort. “You know, I think you have a point. I hope you can find it in your heart to look past my lamentable choice in sides. Perhaps we can form a truce and you’ll forgive my lapse in judgment?”

Astarion feigns disinterest, crossing his arms. He’s about ready to crawl on the floor for this man if he asks. “Oh?”

“Might I suggest we share? I give you half of my onion rings and you give me half of your fries?”

“Hmmm.” Astarion is picturing putting onion rings on Gale’s cock and eating them off, one by one, but he doesn’t vocalize this because he’s not a heathen. “I could be amenable to such a truce. And really, darling, I’d be helping you out. Good thing I’m so nice.”

Gale’s grin widens. “Oh yes. Good thing.”

Something about the way he says that has Astarion wanting to squirm in his chair, but he maintains his composure, somehow, maybe because Gale starts scooping onion rings on to his plate and waits expectantly for Astarion to return the favor, and Astarion does, with the new muscles in his arms that allow him to do so without too much trouble, and the whole thing makes Astarion feel like he’s back in school, sharing his lunch with his crush.

With a flourish that would otherwise seem ridiculous, Gale picks up one of the newly gifted fries and brandishes it momentarily in the air, like he’s admiring a prize. Then he brings it to his mouth, parts his lips, and bites down with relish, chewing thoughtfully and giving Astarion a wink that makes butterflies swarm into his empty stomach.

“Excellent recommendation, Astarion. Thank you for opening my eyes to the folly of my ways.”

It’s teasing but there’s nothing in it that harms him, and Astarion actually does squirm in his chair this time, his eyes flicking away. “Uhm…you’re welcome.” He says shyly.

There’s heat in his belly but it’s not the same as before, it’s not lust and filthy thoughts, but something bashful and sweet. He’s faintly blushing as he picks up an onion ring and bites into it, unable to give it the same show as Gale had, and oh, it’s fantastic. Lightly fried in a thin, crisp batter, not greasy at all, and it actually tastes like an onion and it’s been so long since Astarion’s tasted something so divine, but his body remembers, and his stomach roars with impatience.

His steak is just as good, and Astarion loses himself to his decadent feast, the noises of the tavern around him fading to a dim drone of background ambiance. He’s only pulled from his hyperfocus briefly, in quick flashes, as he catches sight of Gale enjoying his meal as well. It’s distracting, the way Gale’s lips close around the tines of his fork. The way his jaw flexes as he chews. How his long, attractive neck bobs with each swallow.

It's not Astarion’s fault that he imagines him swallowing something else.

Everyone finishes eating at about the same time, despite Astarion’s single-minded focus on his meal, it takes him longer because it’s so large compared to everyone else’s orders. But he finishes the whole thing, his milkshake too, and he’s sitting in a food-drunk stupor as everyone else chatters around him.

There’s a pleasant thrum coursing through him, between the excellent food, the lovely atmosphere, and the good company, not just Gale of course, even though for most of the meal, Astarion’s felt like it was just the two of them. An addicting feeling, after so long fantasizing over his gorgeous instructor and only ever seeing him in the class.

But his enjoyment is short-lived.

Several musicians join the singer up on stage, and it seems that the mood is changing from soft music in the background to something more lively.

Like dancing.

And Astarion’s stomach lands unhappily in his feet.

Chapter Text

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Tables are swiftly moved by a handful of staff away from the front of the stage, the middle of the floor opening up. It’s a flurry of organized efficiency that leaves no doubt this has been done countless times before. The mood of the tavern, of all the remaining patrons, shifts into something palpably excited, and the singer, Alfira, stands at the microphone now, her very own guitar in her hands.

The music starts again and it is much more energetic this time. It’s a song Astarion knows, something from a few decades ago, a classic. Rock and roll music. People are standing, shuffling towards the floor in groups, pairs, some solo patrons. It fills quickly and people start dancing, the hypnotic shift of bodies in motion an enticing scene for anyone.

Astarion bites his bottom lip. Hard.

He doesn’t need another reminder that–

There’s a faint tinge of blood in his mouth and he sinks in his chair, swallowing it down. It’s bitter after his steak. The rhythm of the music makes his body want to sway, but he doesn’t move. Refuses to.

This used to be his life.

Out on the dancefloor, hours and hours of losing himself to music. Him and Sebastian, him and others, him and strangers, it was the brightest part. Now it’s just a faded memory of neon lights and smoke-filled air.

The group at the table starts shifting, and Minsc pulls Jaheira out to the floor, though they don’t necessarily dance together. Jaheira’s moves are sleek and stylish, while Minsc mostly swings his arms around like he’s fighting off a horde of demons, a huge manic grin on his face.

Then Vlaakith stands, demanding a dance with Gale, and off they go. She seems to want to dance just to dance, whether with Gale or not seems incidental.

Even Barcus joins the group and he’s surprisingly agile on the floor.

And Astarion sits and stares at all of them, angry at himself for forgetting, briefly, that he is different now, that he is in his chair, that he’s left once more sad and lonely and alone.

“Astarion, may I trouble you for a word?”

Alright, not as alone as he thought.

It’s Halsin, still sitting at the table with him, staring down at Astarion with those big, emotive eyes. He’s looking at Astarion with an intensity that’s worrying. Especially considering the two of them have never spoken directly to each other before this.

Though Halsin is big like Minsc, the two of them are considerably different, and unlike Minsc, there’s a thoughtful intelligence in Halsin’s eyes. Astarion knows he used to be an environmental activist in his youth, and apparently he used to live in a commune with other woodsy types a long time ago. Not really something Astarion’s particularly well versed in, or interested in.

What the two of them could possibly have to talk about is a bit of a mystery. Perhaps the latest varieties of tree rot?

He plasters a politely curious look on his face. “Of course, I’m all pointy ears, darling.”

“I, uh, see you have been growing closer with Gale.”

Oh.

Shit.

All at once it’s clear why Halsin wanted to talk to him. Instead of joining the others and having fun with everyone on the dancefloor, Halsin’s decided to hang back here and catch Astarion alone so he could confront him.

Just because Astarion’s been a tiny bit flirtatious with Gale, just because he can’t help it, just because they shared their meals, Halsin now mistakenly thinks that Astarion is in any way a threat to his chance with Gale? Which is…

Absurd.

But Halsin is big enough to break Astarion in half over one knee, should he want to.

But surely he wouldn’t harm someone in a wheelchair.

Right?

Astarion’s stuck here unless he wants to slowly roll away, but he doesn’t need to point this out to the very large, potentially possessive, brick shithouse of an elf.

Halsin’s brow furrows and he takes a great big breath, no doubt to capture all the words he needs to scare Astarion off.

But then Gale comes back and he’s tiredly leaning onto the back of his chair, somehow directly in the way of Astarion’s view of Halsin.

He’s laughing, just the barest bit out of breath, and he looks at Astarion, his brows raised high. “Gods, don’t ever let Vlaakith’s age fool you. That woman cuts a mean figure on the dancefloor. I’m struggling to keep up with her.” His eyes seem to focus even more intensely on Astarion’s, then. “I’m headed up to the roof for some cool air. You’ve never been here before, right, Astarion? Would you care you join me? The view is wonderful.”

And Astarion’s nodding so fast, his neck cricks. Yes to the roof, yes to more time with Gale, and yes to not being alone with Halsin who probably is plotting Astarion’s death at this exact moment. He resolutely ignores the other elf and rolls himself back from the table.

Gale’s grin is infectious and perhaps it’s Astarion’s imagination, but his gaze softens just a bit as he watches Astarion move to follow him.

Halsin stands as they go, and Gale turns to him, that same kind smile now soothing whatever Halsin was going to say. “Before I forget, Halsin, Vlaakith was requesting a dance with you. I let her know I’d come get you for her. Best not to keep her waiting, my friend. Enjoy!”

And then they’re both off and Astarion realizes that Gale must not be as blind to the other’s advances as he initially assumed, nor as helpless as he was foolish enough to assume. This pleases him immensely.

But then he realizes that if Gale knows Halsin’s interested, he must be used to turning down his students, and that momentary pleasure pops like a balloon on a nail. If Gale’s not interested in a great big hunk of beef like Halsin, then surely he wouldn’t go for Astarion.

Tall and handsome versus an absolute trainwreck.

No competition.

There’s an elevator up to the roof, though it’s quite small and Astarion has to force himself not to stare directly at Gale’s crotch as they stand side by side in the cramped cube. He’s able to distract himself by looking at nothing, just letting his eyes unfocus and peer into the void.

Then the elevator doors open and Astarion’s momentarily breathless. The sun had set as they were eating and now it’s nighttime, only the barest lingering hint of golden light off at the horizon, above the harbor. Though the Elfsong isn’t a particularly tall building, it sits on a gradual downslope and just so happens to have an almost unhindered view of that distant harbor, down at the bottom.

Astarion rolls out of the elevator into the cool night, a breeze kicking up and carding through his messy chlorinated hair. It’s peaceful up here, the sounds of vehicles and people somehow muted despite only being a couple floors above the busy street. Music from the main floor rises from below, a distant humming beat that travels up the wheels of his chair.

Above him, the sky sparkles with stars, and he’s surprised he can see them so clearly. Though it’s not too surprising, since the city isn’t particularly large and doesn’t have that much light pollution.

But it’s been a long time since he’s seen them, if you don’t count the nights he’s stumbled out of clubs, blitzed out of his mind.

He’s staring up at them now, something tight in his chest at how brightly they seem to shine. It’s been such a long time since he’s taken a moment like this. Felt a good breeze through his hair. Enjoyed the quiet beauty around him.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

He pulls his attention away from the sky to see Gale seated on a bench over near the edge of the roof, a low half-wall at his back. Backlit by the dim glow of the darkening horizon, Gale sits in a faded halo of color and light.

Gorgeous indeed.

Astarion is struck speechless by just how handsome Gale is. Like a figure out of a magazine, sitting there with an easy smile on his face, partially leaning on the barrier behind him, one arm resting casually atop it. The effect is not dimmed in the slightest by the fact that Gale sits there in a long-sleeve cotton shirt and some dark sweatpants branded with the name of their gym. If anything, it only serves to make Gale look more like a model, perhaps for one of those athletics magazines.

He could lose himself in the view all night, hopelessly pining and pained, but there’s something in Gale’s eyes that eases the tension in his chest. Kindness, curiosity, care. It’s lures him closer and he goes willingly, rolling over to join. He comes to a stop by the bench and gives a glance over the edge, seeing the busy street below.

There’s a freedom up here he hasn’t felt in ages.

Gale breaks the silence. “So, how are you liking the class? Still enjoying it?”

“Very much so.” He says, letting out a sigh. He thought he’d feel more nervous alone with Gale, but…

For all his indecent desire for this man, there’s still a very real sense of…well, it’s hard to put into words, but something about Gale feels safe. Astarion realizes beneath his raw hunger for him, he wants to know Gale.

Be known.

Seen.

Which is wild because Astarion barely even knows himself anymore and yet he wants someone else to know him too?

But…

“I’m glad you’ve stayed with us.” Gale says, kind and gentle. “You’ve been progressing so quickly, it’s wonderful to see.”

Ah. Yes. The sting returns. This is a teacher talking to a student, professional only, clearly. Astarion would be silly to—

“And I admit it’s quite nice to have someone my own age around.” Gale says like he’s admitting a secret. “Something to look forward to.”

And that is not exactly professional, and Astarion sits up straighter in his chair. “Of course, darling, I know my lovely face is easy to miss.”

It’s bluster, of course, an echo of the confidence Astarion used to have, but Gale doesn’t tease. He doesn’t confirm the statement either, just watching Astarion with a sort of tender warmth that Astarion isn’t wholly comfortable with, his cheeks threatening to heat again.

To move the moment along, he searches for something, anything, to say. “So…You don’t teach any other classes then?”

And then it’s easier after that, words flowing from both them, effortless, for what must be hours but what feels like no time at all. Astarion hasn’t had such easy conversation with anyone since… well, since ever, he thinks. But he finds himself admitting, once the topic’s changed a dozen times to something more serious, aspects of his life he hasn’t discussed with anyone else yet.

“…When I woke up, the only thing he left was a note that said, ‘I’m sorry’ on it and the ring I gave him, on the table beside my hospital bed.”

It hurts to say, and heat builds behind his eyes but he ignores it, looking out over the rooftops of the surrounding buildings.

“Gods, that’s…awful, Astarion, I’m so sorry.”

Astarion shrugs, unable to look at Gale in this moment.

“Did you contact him again?”

“No.” Astarion says flatly, colder than he means to sound. “I figured it was for the best. To move on and forget all of…this.” He gestures vaguely towards himself, unable to voice how much that hurts. To know that Seb is better off without him, after what he did to them, to himself.

Gale is quiet for a long time after that, and then, “Are you still in love with him?”

And Astarion has to think about that. Because. “…It’s been over a year for him. But it’s only been a few months for me. I…I don’t think I am, but my heart remembers being in love and misses it.”

There’s more quiet between them, distant sounds of traffic and some of the noise from below. Astarion feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time and he’s not sure what to do about that. “…I’m sorry, if that was too much.”

Another moment, and then Gale clears his throat. “No. Not at all. I’m glad you told me. And, I meant it when I said we all make mistakes, that day in class. Mine almost killed me too.”

Astarion turns to look at Gale with shock, sees him tugging down the collar of his shirt to expose that strange spiraling mark on his chest, though it’s hard to see in this light, Astarion’s memorized it by now, having seen it so much in class.

“An unfortunate run-in with a lightning bolt.”

Astarion startles like he’s been struck by lightning. “What?!”

Gale gives a self-deprecating chuckle, releasing his collar. “I was trying to impress a woman who didn’t actually care about me, put myself and her at risk, and got a bolt straight to the chest. My heart stopped for two minutes. She did nothing to help. An elderly passer-by called an ambulance and then did CPR until they arrived, saving my life. I learned not to waste my time on people who aren’t worth my time.”

Astarion’s a bit stunned, blinking with his mouth open like a fish.

Gale laughs again, less strained this time. “Don’t worry though, I’m fairly certain the strike gave me magic powers.” He says the last two words with a funny inflection, wiggling his fingers towards Astarion like some sort of old timey wizard and he looks so goofy that Astarion can’t help but let out an ugly snort, snickering helplessly into his hands.

When he stops laughing and looks up again, he finds Gale watching him, clearly pleased at the reaction he caused. It’s quiet again. But peaceful this time. Easy.

Astarion’s chest is tight again and he finds himself yearning for something he’s been so adamant he’d never get again.

With Gale looking at him like this, he can almost make himself believe that he could be…

Loved.

Then the elevator roars to life with an invasive whirr of machinery, spoiling the moment, and they both turn to watch it arrive and open to reveal Jaheira stepping out. “Alright, you two, it’s closing time, let’s go.”

There’s a low swoop of displeasure at having to end his lovely one on one with Gale but then a quicker, sharper burn of panic cuts through him as he registers what Jaheira said. He stiffens in his chair. “What time is it?”

Jaheira glances at her watch. “Half past ten.”

Astarion’s breath comes quick, and he’s suddenly terrified and ashamed all at once. How could he be so stupid. He’s been up here for hours, chatting away like he’s normal and now he’s really screwed himself over.

“Astarion? What’s wrong?”

That’s Gale, concern in his voice, and Astarion turns, can barely speak. “The shuttle. It. The last shuttle was at eight. I can’t get home.”

Gale’s brows go high and then there’s concern on his face. “Nonsense! One of us can give you a ride. I have my car, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

And that, for a brief moment, has hope flickering to life, images of Gale driving him home, saying goodbye at his front door, almost like a date, but then it just as quickly snuffs out. “No, I… My…” He’s sinking into himself, all at once reminded again that he can’t just go out and live like he used to, he can’t just have fun with others. “…my chair.”

Because his chair doesn’t fold up neatly, it’s a big clunky outdated model with a large motor, the only one he could afford, and it doesn’t fit into cars. Either he’s stranded here with his chair or he goes home without it.

If he looks up and see the concern on Gale’s face turn into pity, he’ll never be able to look at him again.

But Jaheira speaks next, voice stern and almost dismissive, which helps somehow. “Minsc has a truck, he can give you a ride without issue. Come now, boys, before they lock you up here and you have to huddle together for warmth through the night.”

And the idea is appealing, most definitely, but Astarion doesn’t have the energy to entertain his silly fantasies anymore. Now that the conversation has dulled, he realizes he needs to piss something fierce and get to bed. He’s not surprised by how exhausted he feels, he’s just surprised why it took him this long to notice. This is the latest he’s been awake since leaving his coma, if you don’t count the insomnia.

Everything’s a hustle after that, the three of them into the elevator and down to the tavern, crowds of folks saying their goodbyes, the final last bits of applause, Astarion rolling to the restroom with single-minded determination, not even concerned that Halsin could potentially corner him here and demand he stop flirting with Gale.

When he comes out, relieved and still alive, he sees Gale at the bar, clearly paying off their tab for the night. His eyes go wide and he searches frantically for Jaheira, finding her and throwing her a murderous look when she notices his attention.

She returns nothing but confusion and he gestures wordlessly towards the bar with one hand, as if presenting evidence in a courtroom. Her response is a clear eyeroll and then she shrugs, clearly unbothered. Astarion mouths several colorful curse words at her, annoyed at having been deceived, frustrated at getting such an expensive meal and worrying that Gale might—

“Are you alright?”

The gods must hate him. Surely. Astarion fights the blush, knowing it’s a losing battle, and turns his head up to Gale who’s returned to his side. He gives an apologetic smile, hoping he looks contrite and not like a lunatic who was just having a silent face argument with another person. “Er, uh, thank you, for the meal. I, uh, thought Jaheira was going to pay, so, I… Well, I wouldn’t have gotten something so expensive, but, I thought…”

Gale gives him another soft smile, the kind that has Astarion’s whole torso full of wiggling beholders, and then shakes his head. “No thanks necessary. Think of it as my humble appreciation for all of you.”

That has Astarion deflating somewhat.

“And I’d love to buy you dinner again sometime.”

But that sets the beholders off again, a full battle inside of him, and he’s speechless once more, because that was flirting, right? Astarion thinks it was definitely flirting, or maybe Gale just being kind again, or something, anything, that isn’t flirting, because Gale wouldn’t flirt with him. Would he?

He tries to figure this out as they all get shooed outside, and then they’re all walking back to the gym, back to where everyone is parked, and Astarion, no closer to deciphering Gale’s easy remark or the casual way he said it, can only wave goodnight to him, slightly dazed by the possibility of Gale flirting with him.

As everyone drives away, Astarion goes with Minsc to his giant pickup truck, a beastly contraption with a license plate that reads ‘GO4TH-IS’, another mystery Astarion cannot begin to understand. Despite being so large, the truck has multiple handholds, enough that Astarion’s able to heft himself up with minimal aid, climbing into the front seat. Minsc takes his chair and lifts the whole thing into the bed like it weighs nothing, then secures it down with straps.

Astarion still isn’t exactly sure about Minsc, the man extremely difficult to get a solid read on, and this sentiment is only heightened when he settles in to look around the truck.

There, covering the dashboard from left to right, no space left unfilled, sits an absolutely bonkers collection of tiny stuffed hamsters. Toy hamsters, to be clear. They all seem to be secured with some sort of adhesive, affixed in such a way that their plastic eyes all stare back at him. There must be almost a hundred of the things.

It’s…a bit unsettling.

But when he looks away, wanting to check on Minsc’s progress through the rear window, he discovers several more of the things in the backseat, these ones much bigger, like gigantic versions of the ones on the dash, and several sharing the seatbelts.

This is either very endearing or extremely creepy, but Astarion is too tired to care. Let Minsc take him into the woods to do his hamster ritual or whatever, as long as Astarion gets to be unconscious for it.

Despite his trepidation, the ride back to his apartment is without issue. Minsc drives like a grandmother and keeps his speed below the limit the entire way. Unfortunate that his favorite music is apparently yodeling, though. He puts a playlist on that has Astarion’s head spinning, especially when Minsc starts jubilantly yodeling along, his voice cracking without shame.

But Astarion arrives very safely home, and Minsc hauls his chair back out of the bed with ease, depositing it for Astarion to slip carefully down into.

“Have a powerful sleep and many good dreams, Astarion!” Minsc whispers, still using the loudest quiet voice Astarion’s ever heard. “Anytime you are needing a lift, you call on old Minsc, okay? Ha!”

Then Minsc is off and driving away, the muted sound of yodeling growing more faint by the second.

Astarion makes his way up to his apartment, which, for the first time, doesn’t feel as lonely as it normally does, and he’s crawling into bed, still fully dressed, with a grin on his face. He has friends again. Weird friends, but still. And Astarion had a good time tonight. Even with the mishaps, the embarrassment. He finds himself looking forward to seeing them all again. Finds himself drifting off to sleep with ease, unbothered and lighter than he’s felt in ages.

…And Gale was definitely flirting with him.

Chapter Text

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The sun is already setting when Astarion gets off the shuttlebus. Class finished hours ago and the pool will most likely be closed, but Astarion wasn’t sure where else to go. This was the only place he wanted to go.

So he’s here now, heart still thumping excitedly in his chest, even nearly an hour later, as he wheels himself up the ramp to the front door of the gym. The outside lights are on, bright and cheerful in the approaching dark, and there are still people milling about inside, Astarion can see them through the glass, though it’s decidedly less crowded than usual.

The door opens with a clean mechanical whirr and Astarion hustles inside at max speed. Which is the same as his normal speed, but, the difference is he’s in a hurry.

Earlier today, he’d walked.

At his physical therapy appointment, and true, he’d been suspended in a gravity sling, but it had been loosened enough to let him support himself and then, with a plain old walker, he’d taken actual steps forward.

His physicians have all been very clear that he’ll most likely never again have full range of motion in his legs, and that walking unassisted is not a realistic goal for him to have. But, the thought of getting up out of his chair, whether with a walker, or maybe someday a cane, he’d burst into tears then and there.

A small part of himself, reclaimed.

And his very first thought once he’d sat back down, limbs shaking with exertion and adrenaline, was that he wanted to tell Gale.

Right away.

So, even though it’s a long shot that Gale will even still be here, and even though most of the daytime staffing for the gym is on their way out, he had to chance it.

The Chosen Aquatics is Gale’s last class on the days he teaches them, but Astarion knows Gale sometimes stays late to do paperwork or organize his office, or sometimes, once or twice, to talk with Astarion.

The first time had been an accident. The week after that group dinner at the Elfsong, Astarion had been feeling cocky and confident, something that used to be like breathing for him, easy, instinctual. Since waking up, that feeling had been rare.

High on the possibility of Gale flirting with him, actually flirting with him, Astarion had pushed himself his hardest yet in class, wanting to show off, wanting to make Gale watch him again with those beautiful eyes. All of it, fueled by his own ego, so much more than he should have done, bringing himself to the point of near exhaustion, much like that first day of class.

After doing so well the past few months, it felt immensely shameful to have to struggle to get back to his chair again. He’d hung back in the water, one hand clinging desperately to the side of the pool to keep himself steady, waiting impatiently for the rest of the class to leave. No witnesses, that’s what he’d wanted. To be able to clamor out of the water without anyone seeing his weak, useless body.

But people lingered to chat after class and Astarion had been stuck, the soft sound of lapping water loud in his ears as he trembled near the filter jets. If people thought it weird how he just stood alone in the water, not looking at anyone and not moving, no one said anything addressing it. Just when he was debating climbing out anyway, embarrassment growing the longer he lingered in place, suddenly Astarion hadn’t been alone.

Gale came back into the poolroom from his office. Distracted and focused all at once, he’d jumped back in the pool and come swimming over to Astarion, asking him for some advice. Simple enough stuff, Gale had wanted to introduce some new exercises to the class and had been unsure if they were understandable when he modeled them. So, Astarion had watched as Gale had practiced and given examples of the new moves for him.

Torture and bliss in equal measure. A show just for him.

…And the few folks having conversation over by the exit, but none of them were very interested in what was happening in the pool.

This had the added boon of taking just long enough for Astarion to catch his breath, for his muscles to relax and stop shaking. Gale had gotten his sought after advice and thanked him with one of those sweet smiles and taken off, and Astarion had gotten out of the pool without issue.

No mention of that comment about buying him dinner again.

But Astarion is reasonably sure he’d misinterpreted that to begin with.

The second time, a few weeks after that, Astarion had been caught up bickering with Jaheira at the end of class, something about splashing her or something equally silly. Astarion can’t even really recall, not even that big a deal, but Astarion’s always up for an argument, especially with Jaheira, knowing she’s just as thorny as he is. Perhaps even more so, now that he thinks about it.

Gale had waded over to them to make sure they were alright, ever the kind mediator, and Jaheira had buckled. Stormed off with a roll of her eyes that conveniently left Gale and Astarion alone together. They’d talked aimlessly about unserious things for almost an hour, both steadily becoming wrinkled prunes in the water. The pool room had emptied of all but the two of them, though there was still ample conversation of many people heard from the locker room and out in the hallway. It hadn’t private by any stretch, but it had been nice, until Astarion had to ruin it, his traitorous stomach gurgling with hunger.

No offer for dinner then either, just the polite apology from Gale for keeping him past suppertime.

Perhaps the thought of dating Gale is too good to be true, considering everything Astarion doesn’t bring to the table as a potential partner. He knows what he is, knows what he’s done. That he’s a burden. A dead weight.

Still, Astarion can’t help but daydream about the handsome gym bunny. And nighttime dream, but that’s between Astarion and his washing machine and no one else.

He’s so smitten that even if he can’t have Gale in his bed, he’ll settle for keeping Gale as a friend. At least that comes with one hell of a view. So, friendship, he can do friendship. And right now he wants to tell his friend what happened today.

There’s a chance the pool room will be locked already, so Astarion heads for the side entrance to the connected locker room. His wheelchair motor seems louder than usual as he rolls down the empty hallway. Normally there are others walking around, or the sound of talking and activity from all sides of the gym, but it’s much quieter at this hour. Dinner time for most, only the night staff clocking in for those coming to exercise after work.

The lights are still on in the locker room, which is an excellent sign since there’s no swimming allowed after five, not without staffing assigned. Chances are, Gale is still here, his office just inside the locker room, down its own short hall. Even if he’s not, perhaps Astarion could leave a note on his desk. Or pushed underneath the door, since his office would most likely be locked.

As luck would have it, despite the locker room being empty, he can hear a voice coming from the pool room that makes his stomach do a flip. It’s deep and speaking slowly, but Astarion can’t make out the words, too distorted in such a large room, with the water and its concrete walls. Gale must still be here, no one else would be allowed in tonight if he wasn’t.

Astarion’s already smiling in anticipation of telling Gale he walked — he walked! — when he exits the open threshold of the locker room into the cavernous pool room and his smile dies on his face and his stomach drops.

It’s Gale.

And Halsin.

Further into the room, on the back wall, Gale’s got his back against the stone and he’s looking up to Halsin who’s leaning over him and looking down into his eyes, one forearm braced on the wall above Gale’s head. Halsin is saying something that Gale answers, the familiar line of his grin visible even from here. Their bodies are very close, almost touching. It’s…

Intimate.

Something bitter and sharp rushes up Astarion’s throat and his chest goes tight with cold.

Stupid.

So stupid.

To think he ever had a chance. That someone as incredible as Gale would ever look at someone like him and.

And.

Astarion attempts to back up quickly before he’s seen, moving the control stick faster than he should and accidentally turning it to the side instead of reversing. In a panic, he overcompensates, jerking to the other side, which causes his chair to buck and nearly spin and, in his growing distress, he steers his chair directly into the side of the entryway.

The clang of metal frame into stone is loud.

Astarion whips his head back to look over his shoulder, hoping that somehow, the lovers are too engrossed in each other to have heard, but no. Both Halsin and Gale are staring over at him, open confusion on Halsin’s face and wide-eyed alarm on Gale’s. Like a startled animal. He’s got both hands raised now, braced on Halsin’s broad chest, as if they were about to kiss.

The sick in Astarion’s stomach threatens again, and his breaths are quicker than he realized. He swallows it all down and grips the armrests tight. Without turning back, he calls out, hoping his voice is steadier than he thinks it is, “Apologies! Didn’t mean to interrupt! Leaving now, don’t want to. To.” His throat closes and he gives up, steering himself away as fast as he can.

Which has already been established as not that gods damned fast.

He’s never hated himself or his chair more than in this very moment. If only he could stand and walk and run away from this, but no. Instead he’s trapped by metal and a motor that’s older than he is, whirring its little heart out beneath him, unable to propel him faster no matter how hard he pushes on the joystick.

“Astarion!”

One of them calls his name but he can’t tell who over the sound of his blood in his ears. He pushes harder, choosing to ignore the call and the tiny sound of creaking plastic under his heavy hand as he navigates past the benches and lockers.

“Astarion, wait, one second, please.”

Gale then, it’s Gale who called. Who’s calling now. Why he followed is a mystery. Astarion is sorry. For interrupting, for seeing that, for tricking himself into believing he’d had a chance.

Rapid footfalls behind him, so much quicker than Astarion’s chair and rage festers like a cancer in the pit of his stomach at this indescribable feeling of inadequacy. Stopping his chair, because what’s the point, he closes his eyes against that feeling and he’s grateful there are no tears there.

A second is all it takes for Gale to come and grasp Astarion’s arm, and Astarion can’t help but open his eyes again, watching as Gale moves quickly to kneel in front of him, of his chair, Gale’s other hand landing where Astarion’s still holding the joystick, as if to keep him from zooming away again.

“That wasn’t—” Gale begins, blinking at him, still wearing that strange look of alarm, his handsome brow creased in obvious worry. “We weren’t. Halsin and I, we’re not, uh. That wasn’t what it looked like.”

Oh.

Gale’s worried Astarion’s going to tell others about their clandestine affair. Astarion won’t tell anyone.

After this, he may never speak again.

No, actually, he’ll speak immediately, for better or worse. “Oh don’t worry, darling, I won’t spread any rumors about you sleeping with a student.” He makes a sound that’s supposed to be a dismissive laugh. “Shouldn’t be too much a scandal anyway what with the student so much older than you.”

And now he’s being mean because his feelings are hurt, when Halsin isn’t even a student. This isn’t a school, there aren’t any guidelines preventing instructors from dating the people in their classes. So he sounds stupid too. He’s stuck in a wheelchair with a withered body and he’s a stupid idiot and he’s mean.

Wonderful. What a catch he is, however does he keep all the suitors away.

…No wonder Gale’s not interested in him.

The hand tightens over his for a fleeting moment, then Gale’s releasing him but he stays knelt on one knee before him. “I’m not sleeping with Halsin. I’m not interested in Halsin.”

Clearly that’s a lie. Astarion can’t meet his eyes. Shame and self-loathing have his stomach in knots. Instead he stares into the locker room, letting his vision go unfocused, Gale just in his periphery.

He’s also turned away, and this makes Astarion brave enough to shift his line of sight ever so slightly towards him and get a better look. Gale looks mortified, his cheeks lightly flushed, and he’s rubbing at the back of his neck. Astarion’s traitorous brain noisily notices how attractive that is, and it just makes his stomach sink further.

Stupid.

The silence grows between them, awkward and empty, and Astarion doesn’t know why he hasn’t just directed his chair away. The mature thing to do here is to quietly leave the gym, unenroll from the class, drive to the nearest cliff, and fling himself off of it.

Gale breaks the silence. “We missed you in class today.” His voice is nervous, like he doesn’t want to scare Astarion off.

Astarion tries to swallow the bitterness in his throat and fails. “I’m sure. You shouldn’t keep Halsin waiting, darling, don’t want to be rude, now, do we?”

“I sent Halsin home.” Gale says quickly. “Can I ask why you’re here this late?”

Astarion remembers. His excitement just moments ago. It’s deflated completely, and it sits in the pit of his stomach like old food. He stares down at his hands in his lap, wanting still to tell Gale but not knowing if the news is even wanted. But he holds it in his folded palms, like a wounded bird, and the urge to set it free flutters against his fingers.

Astarion does something that’s very difficult for him.

In this moment, his feelings hurt, disappointment and embarrassment warring for who gets to be meanest inside his head, he wants to run away. His old life was nothing but running away. Whether from responsibility, accountability, from his own poor image of who he really was on the inside. Drugs and alcohol and one partner after the other until Sebastian was stupid enough to stick around.

That Astarion’s own choices took away his literal ability to run, well, the irony is not lost on him. So, for once, he doesn’t run. Chair or no.

It doesn’t matter if Gale could have feelings for him or not. Astarion cares about him regardless. Though he’d certainly hoped for more, he does truly wish to be friends with Gale. The bond that’s been growing between them separate from his more amorous feelings is quite real and genuine.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I was at physical therapy. It went longer than usual because...” His hands clench tight in his lap and he forces himself to relax, taking another deep breath. “I walked.”

There’s a quick intake of breath and then Gale’s reaching for his hands again. “Astarion! You walked?! That’s incredible!”

The open excitement and palpable pride on Gale’s face and in his voice dispels some the ice in Astarion’s chest immediately, and he feels his lips twitch upwards in an automatic grin. “Yeah, just for a little bit though. I—”

Gale’s arms shoot out and yank Astarion into a vigorous, all-encompassing hug. A real hug. Not with his arms clutching his chair, but just Astarion, his arms so tight around him, Gale laughing in a breathless way as he pats him on the back with enthusiasm. He pulls back and gives Astarion a huge open-mouthed smile that has Astarion thawing even more.

“Even just one step is amazing!” Gale’s eyes are crinkled at the edges from the size of his smile and he yanks Astarion back in. Not thumping his back this time, but just holding him tight in strong, warm arms. “I’m so proud of you, you’ve been working so hard, you’ve never given up, I’m ecstatic!”

There’s a traitorous wetness building quick in Astarion’s eyes, and he closes them in defiance, returning the embrace. His hands slide over that broad back, feeling the heat through Gale’s shirt, the hard, lean muscles under his skin and his chin dips of its own accord down to the side of Gale’s neck, unable to resist the alluring scent of faded chlorine and sweat. The side of his cheek just barely brushes Gale’s ear, and his heart thuds in his chest. A small quiver builds inside and he swallows it down, hugging tighter. Gale holds him close, arms wrapped fully around his back, and Astarion realizes how long it’s been since he’s been held like this.

After buying him this chair and helping him get into it for the first time, his sister had hugged him. It had been awkward for the both of them. Not that they’d been terribly close before the accident, Astarion much too reckless for Aurelia’s neat little life. But since he’s woken, they’ve been growing closer again. Still, touch is rare between them. With anyone, really, Astarion having no one besides his doctors that touches him with any regularity.

Here, in Gale’s sturdy arms, Astarion shivers from how good it feels, skin breaking out in goosebumps as something inside of him unfurls, like a flower peeking through its bud to the first sunbeams of Spring. Gale’s still huffing with excited disbelief in his ear and Astarion lets himself sink fully into the embrace.

This is what he wanted. This is what he expected. This is enough. It’s all he needs.

It seems both much too long and not nearly long enough when Gale finally pulls away, hands shifting to grip Astarion’s upper arms as he shows him that beaming smile again. “What happened at your appointment? Tell me everything! Don’t leave out a single detail, Astarion, I mean it.”

So Astarion tells him, though there’s not really much to tell, but Gale moves to take a seat on one of the nearby benches by the lockers, an expectant, excited expression on his face and Astarion finds himself going into excruciating detail about his session, his own excitement returning as he does so.

That nervousness going in to the appointment, how insecure he’d felt, not wanting to even try because he knew he’d fail, but then, that moment, when they gave the gravity sling some slack and Astarion was standing with no other aid than the sturdy metal walker and how, as he’d lifted his leg, his other leg had shaken so fiercely, he thought he’d tumble yet again. But thanks to the muscles he’d slowly been building over the past few months in Gale’s class, he hadn’t fallen.

He'd walked.

Even just remembering it feels like a false memory. He’d lodged his failure so firmly into himself, anything that challenges it feels like a lie.

Gale grins at him from where he sits wide-kneed on the bench, bent forward with his elbows on them and his hands clasped between. Ever the supportive instructor. Astarion feels only glee now, and the faint fading edges of fatigue from sharing his excitement with someone else like the releasing of a balloon.

Any traces of awkwardness between them is solidly gone. Eradicated by the softness of the moment. Astarion realizes his feelings for Gale are so much deeper than he’d realized. He adores this man. Such a foolish notion when he’s known Gale for naught but four months. But he feels safe with him. Seen in a way that he’s not sure he’s even been seen before. Perhaps he’s known for a while now, but that would have meant admitting to himself that Jaheira was right all along.

He’d rather eat an old gym towel.

But the urge to flee no longer compels him, and only regret at missing class today remains. He doesn’t want to leave yet, though he should. The locker room exit is visible over Gale’s shoulder and he can’t help to glance at it, wishing he could just stay here instead.

“Are you tired from PT?” Gale asks suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Astarion blinks for a moment, wondering if this is perhaps the elusive dinner invitation.

“No, not really, not anymore.” He offers, cautious.

Gale’s brows raise excitedly. “Want to do some exercises together? You and me? In the pool?”

Astarion almost sighs, deflating a bit. Of course it’s just an offer to make up for the missed class. But, he’s alright with it, surprisingly, preferring to use whatever excuse to prolong their time together. “Sure, why not, darling.”

Gale stands, clapping his hands together and then pulling his shirt off right then and there. “Excellent!” He enthuses, hair a bit mussed from the fervor with which he’d stripped. He bends and pulls his gym pants off to reveal his trademark speedo.

The clothing is flung to a nearby bench and Gale practically runs to where there’s a large open cabinet of clean towels, bending to take a handful of them before turning back around. “Meet you in the water, take your time.” Then he’s off, walking with haste towards the pool room.

Astarion sits frozen, feeling like he’d just been flashbanged by nipples and ass.

The enormity of the situation is not lost on him. Alone with Gale for the first time and not just after class with people milling about. Properly alone, no chance of others walking in.

When his motor functions return, he undresses, movements mechanical and his mind doing its best to think unsexy things so he doesn’t get exposed for the horny freak he is within two seconds of rolling out after Gale. Thankfully, remembering his bizarre ride in Minsc’s hamster-filled yodel machine helps immensely.

Chapter Text

It’s an unfortunate realization that Astarion does not have his gym bag with him, having come straight from the doctor’s office and knowing he’d be missing class.

He deliberates for a few agonizing minutes, weighing the pros and cons of climbing into the pool fully dressed, but then he heaves a sigh and wheels towards the bench Gale had been sitting on. Stripping down to his boxers – and thank goodness it’s one of his newer pairs, not the ratty ones with the hole on his ass – he lays the rest of his clothing down on the wooden seat.

Gale’s doing some languid laps as Astarion eventually emerges from the locker room, only slightly nervous about his state of dress. But what’s the difference between swim trunks and a bathing suit anyway? His boxers certainly cover more skin than Gale’s tiny, teasing, tempting speedo.

The main concern is somehow slipping out through the front opening and exposing himself. This sounds preposterous, but all the nightmares Astarion used to have about such a thing happening in high school whisper darkly in the back of his mind.

He'll have to be aware of himself, that’s all.

At the sight of him, Gale stops his efficient swimming to tread water in the deepest part, sending Astarion one of those gorgeous smiles of his that brightens his entire face. It flickers into something faintly embarrassed as Gale rubs the back of his neck again, though he’s chuckling this time.

“It would be a tad silly going through the motions of a regular class with just the two of us, I’d wager.” He says, though Astarion hadn’t thought that at all. “Ah, I know, why don’t we do some strength training instead? A bit more advanced? We can start small, if you’re alright with that.”

Riding the high of his successful therapy session, Astarion’s willing to try. “Sounds good to me, darling.”

It takes him a few minutes to get into the pool, floating easily out of the aqua chair and moving forward to where the floor dips so he can stand. Instead of swimming over, his arms quite capable to bring him all the way to Gale without pausing, quite strong by this point and used to treading water, he opts to walk.

With the water lapping gently against his chest, he stands and allows buoyancy to keep him upright. Then he shifts his leg forward, just like he had at his physical therapy appointment, and brings it down further ahead. It’s vastly different from walking outside of the water, but it makes his heart beat a little faster.

Though his steps are ungainly and slow, Astarion’s legs so unused to this form of locomotion, he eventually makes his way towards the center of the pool, a few feet away from Gale.

Gale who’s been watching him with that soft, gentle smile of his, the one that makes his kind eyes crinkle at the edges. Astarion’s heart quickens again, and he tries to squash that down. Damn thing can’t remember what Astarion’s unfortunate eyes just witnessed with Halsin, the little shit.

But he’s here now, alone with Gale, and he can’t be upset about that. Not when the view is so very nice, and not when simply being around Gale makes him feel like he’s floating.

…In hindsight, that might be the pool.

“Ah!” Gale stiffens suddenly, giving a breathy chuckle. “Forgot to get the damned ball, one moment.”

Astarion watches with great interest as Gale goes to the side of the pool and pulls himself out with just his arms. Water pours down his broad back as he does so, dipping into the folds and creases of his flexing muscles, flowing down his spine like the world’s best waterslide. Lifting one knee to plant his foot on the floor stretches the sinfully wet fabric of Gale’s speedo almost to the point of translucence. His plump rear end is so exposed, the man might as well be naked.

In that brief moment, Astarion imagines tearing down that sodden mess of an excuse for a bathing suit and burying his face in between those cheeks. Perhaps if he was allowed to eat out his hot aerobics instructor, it would heal him.

“Got it!” Gale says, having already walked away and returned while Astarion considered his secret feast and forced himself not to salivate.

There’s a small black ball tucked in one arm, a white number five painted several times across its surface. Gale hops back into the pool with it, no graceful dive this time, but an effortless jump off the side, legs crisscrossing in midair and his hold on the ball tightening. The splash reaches Astarion, who closes his eyes and turns his face away, a helpless laugh breaking free.

He wipes the water away and looks to see Gale grinning at him, ball held just above the water, and moving closer with it.

It’s offered to Astarion. “Here, hold this above your head and then throw it to me, as hard as you can, as far as you can, and I’ll try to catch it each time.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow as he take the ball. It’s heavier than it looks, supposedly five pounds according to the number written on it. “My own personal retriever, hmm?” His lashes flutter playfully. “I’ve always wanted a dog, darling.”

Gale laughs and then backs away, readying his stance once more several feet away.

Astarion lifts the ball above his head as instructed relieved he can even do so, and delighted to realize that despite how dense it is, he’ll be able to throw it with ease. But his aim is pure shit, and when he chucks it with all his might, his fingers hold a touch too long and it goes slamming into the pool a foot or two in front of Gale, sending a spray of water directly into the man’s face.

His cheeks burn. “Agh, sorry!”

But Gale is laughing, wiping the water from his face and moving to get the ball and return it to Astarion.

“No harm done, besides,” This time, when he hands it over, their fingers touch, fleetingly, and Astarion’s heart kicks up again. “We can consider that payback for mine.”

There’s a slight tremor this time as Astarion goes to throw the ball, but he forces himself to focus. Feet planted firmly on the ground, core muscles tightened, he uses less force this time, not looking to impress, just looking to succeed, and he does. The ball goes sailing through the air, a neat little arc that almost reaches Gale, but this time lean, toned arms are ready, and Gale goes diving forward to catch it before it lands in the water.

“Well done!”

The praise has Astarion’s ears going hot and his stomach squirming like it so often does around Gale. Excitement to do it again. Gale returns the ball once more, and they fall into an easy pattern of throw, catch, return, throw, catch, return. Astarion’s arm do begin to burn, but it’s a good burn and the constant shouts of encouragement are quite a nice trade. That and every time Astarion throws the ball a bit too far to the sides, Gale has to leap and tends to end up in the water, more and more of his hair coming loose in flowing strands from his bun.

“It’s strange being here without the others,” Astarion says, just starting to breathe a little heavier. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Gale snorts. “It’s quieter. I understand. Did you want me to turn on the music?”

Astarion makes a disgusted sound. “Gods no. Gale, darling, you may be an excellent instructor, but your music choice is abysmal. Rockin’ Oldies, really? A little too on-the-nose for a class full of elderly people, don’t you think?”

“I like the music!” Gale laughs, diving for another pass with a loud splash. When he emerges from the water, he’s grinning wide. “And besides, it’s Vlaakith’s favorite. Do you want to tell her no?”

“Absolutely not.” Astarion says with a shiver. “I don’t think that woman has been told no even once in her life.”

Another laugh, deep in Gale’s throat. “You’re probably right, considering her chosen profession as a professional dominatrix.”

Astarion’s foot almost slips out from under him. “Excuse me?”

Gale comes close with the ball, handing it over, their fingertips brushing yet again. He doesn’t immediately let go. “Oh yes, she’s quite popular. Always booked at least a month in advance.”

Scandalized, Astarion yanks the ball away. “And you know this, how?”

That golden laugh again. “Don’t misunderstand, I’m not an inquiring customer or anything like that.” Swimming backwards to his spot, Gale lifts a brow at him. “But Barcus is.”

“Barcus!?”

“Yes, it’s sort of sweet, but he’s definitely looking in the wrong place for what he wants.”

It’s like the world has tilted. Astarion tries to picture that awkward little man strung up on a wall with rope and covered in candle wax or whatever dominatrixes do, and it makes him drop the ball, a muted sploosh as it hits the water. He scoops it back up quickly. “And what is it he wants? To be chewed up and spat out?”

“No, he’s coming out of a bad relationship, and his ex was a very stern individual. I believe he sees some of that in Vee, but much safer than his zealot of an ex was.”

The ball sits in Astarion’s hands and he blinks down at it for a moment before looking back up. “I had no idea about this at all. These little background stories. Even though I’ve been talking to these people for months.”

Gale waves a hand, dismissive but forgiving all at once. “There’s no need for you to, unless you’re quite close with them. I enjoy getting to know the people in my classes. Have you told anyone your story?”

Astarion’s fingers spasm and he clutches the ball harder, not wanting to drop it again. “No. Well, Jaheira knows I was in a car accident and that I don’t drink. But not…” His brow furrows. “Not the rest of it.”

“And you shouldn’t feel like you owe that to anyone. Astarion.” Gale calls gently and Astarion risks a glance up at him. “Your past is not a thing to be ashamed of, but, it’s also yours to keep as quiet as you wish.”

There’s a twist of guilt. It’s not that Astarion is trying to hide what he’s done, it’s just that he doesn’t feel close enough to anyone to unload all of his shit onto. Except for Gale. That night up on the roof had been so effortlessly easy for Astarion to open up. And it felt like Gale thought the same way, but, perhaps he’d just been being friendly. Getting to know the class, as he’d said.

Astarion’s eyes squeeze shut.

Give up, idiot.

“Why don’t we increase the difficulty?” Gale’s voice has Astarion opening his eyes again. He’s in the same place, ready for Astarion’s throw. “You throw, but this time, I throw back. Do you think you can catch it?”

Astarion pictures himself diving for the ball as Gale had and swallows nervously. He doesn’t want to look like a fool but he also doesn’t want to look weak. “Of course I can.” He says with hopefully believable confidence. “Why, my arms are positively powerful by now!”

And then the torture begins.

Where Astarion’s muscles were beginning to burn before, now his whole body is put to the test. He had no idea it would be this difficult to simply catch a ball, but every time Gale throws it – and always directly to Astarion with perfect aim, the bastard – Astarion has to brace to catch it and fight to keep from stumbling or falling back. The strain on his legs is different from throwing, he can’t lock his knees and throw with the majority of the work being done by his arms. Now he has to compensate for the slight backwards push and his legs are trembling beneath the water. He’s panting within five minutes, barely able to follow the conversation Gale’s attempting to have with him.

Something about Minsc’s husband, a diminutive man who goes by the name of Boo, and his vet clinic being extra busy lately since it’s the only one in the city that specializes in rodent care. Astarion can’t even spare the energy to be interested, though this information does clear up a few things.

Not the yodeling though.

“-and Halsin works as an environmental lawyer, though I know that’s hard to believe, since he looks like he should be hugging trees, not doing paperwork about them.” Gale’s laughing like it’s funny, but the reminder of finding them entangled earlier sets Astarion’s stomach to sour.

“Ah, brains and brawn, I can see why you like him so much.” He says through a fake smile, trying very hard and failing spectacularly at hiding the bitterness in his voice. When he throws the ball, it goes wide, to the side of Gale by several feet, though Gale doesn’t dive for it this time.

Instead he levels a long look towards him, a slight frown on his face, but he says nothing and walks to where the ball it floating carelessly away. Picking it up, he holds it for a moment, biceps deliciously visible from the weight of it, though Astarion’s having difficulty appreciating that at the moment.

After another moment, Gale sighs, rolling the ball in his grip. “…I was being honest earlier. About Halsin.” Brown eyes flick up towards Astarion again, shimmering with the light refracted off the surface of the water. “We’re not together.”

Disbelief lodges firmly in Astarion’s throat but he doesn’t let it out, not wanting to make things awkward again. He has no claim on Gale, and he knows this, he does. It’s just more difficult than he thought it would be to squash that tiny little spark of hope. Comical really, considering how minuscule it is.

He really shouldn’t be focusing on this right now, not when Gale’s shifting to throw the ball again. Astarion’s arms come up automatically, but his brain isn’t paying attention, and that’s when it happens. Perhaps it’s because the ball is still dripping wet, perhaps Astarion really is that hung up on his feelings, or perhaps his muscles just finally had enough. But, Astarion doesn’t catch the ball.

His face does.

The slippery rubber sails right through his extended hands and smashes hard into his forehead and nose, sending his head flying backwards and shocking the wind right out of him. In that half second of staggering backwards, his feet slip out from underneath him and he sinks under the surface like a stone, tired arms flailing wildly as he fights the urge to suck in a breath.

Everything slows and speeds up simultaneously and there’s a deafening explosion and a muted shout that might be his name, and just as Astarion’s lungs are at their limit, screaming with pain and urging him to just breathe in, hands grab him.

Gale hauls him up out of the water like he weighs nothing, Astarion sputtering and choking and gasping as he breaks the surface.

“Astarion! Are you alright?!” Gale’s voice is loud and panicked. His hands are shaking as he holds Astarion upright. “I’m sorry, I, I must have thrown it too hard!”

Still wheezing and coughing up the miniscule amount of water that he had inhaled, Astarion gasps in another lungful of air. His hair is a mess, his bangs plastered over his eyes, and he pushes them back, wiping the water away so he can see. Gale’s face swims into view, very close, as close as when they’d hugged, his face tight with worry.

“Ouch.” Astarion manages inelegantly, wincing. His forehead hurts, and there’s a sharp pulse of pain in his nose. “I don’t think I’m gonna make the team, coach.”

There’s a rapid huff of breath, an almost-laugh, and then Gale’s pulling him even closer, one arm looped around Astarion’s back, the other lifted to run his hand carefully down the side of Astarion’s face. Strong fingers take hold of his chin, and Gale turns his face from one side and then the other, staring intently.

This close, Astarion can’t help but stare back while Gale’s preoccupied, so close to the other man’s face unhindered. He can see all the details he’d only ever gotten glimpses of before. The dark honey striations in Gale’s irises, the tiny divots of what must have been a multitude of piercings at one point, all up his ears and possibly gauges at one point in his lobes. In Astarion’s periphery, the curling lines of that elegant scar on Gale’s broad chest catch the shine of the overhead lights. Astarion glances down at it to get a better look and the change in angle has something hot swelling and then spilling from his nose.

“Oh, hells,” Gale gasps. “Keep your head down, come here.”

Astarion is tugged swiftly out of the middle of the pool and towards the side nearest the locker room, blood streaming down from his nose into the water in a kaleidoscope of pinks and reds. His hand is placed up onto the edge, and Gale gives it a quick squeeze.

“Hold here, don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Astarion clings as instructed even though he can stand just fine, the water only up to their chests. Gale hefts himself out of the pool again, a deluge of water sluicing off of him, the soft pattering of bare feet on wet concrete growing softer the farther he goes. There’s pressure in Astarion’s nose and forehead, and he shuts his eyes, thoroughly miserable.

If there were an Olympic category for speedrunning mortification, Astarion would have won gold several times over by now.

Gale’s return is as quick as promised, a quick jump back into the water and then he’s holding a bright white hand towel under Astarion’s nose. Gale is breathing somewhat quick and Astarion can recognize the sound of anxiety when he hears it. He breathes through his mouth as he bleeds, and the two of them stand in silence.

After a long, awkward minute, Gale speaks. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Oh, goody.” Astarion says thickly.

“I’m so sorry, Astarion, I shouldn’t have—” Gale makes a choked sounding sigh. “I could tell your arms were tired, I should have moved us to another exercise.”

Or perhaps Astarion shouldn’t have stayed tonight. None of this would have happened if he’d just gone home after his physical therapy. Though today started so well, it has only gone downhill since he got here.

But he doesn’t say that.

He reaches to hold the towel on his own, leaning back against the wall behind him with a muffled sigh. Gale moves too, and Astarion glances over to see him with his forehead resting on the edge of the pool, hands braced on either side of his head, like he’s just as miserable as Astarion is. The sight of his obvious suffering makes Astarion feel a little better, actually, as horrible as that sounds. But, it’s nice to know he’s the not the only one wallowing right now.

And it’s not like it can get any more awkward, so Astarion asks the question he knows is inappropriate but can’t bring himself to care that it is.

“So,” His voice sounds weird with his nose plugged but he carries on. “Do you act that cozy with all the people you aren’t sleeping with, or is Halsin a special case?”

There’s a shocked silence, but it doesn’t last. Gale groans quietly, like he’s just eaten bad food. “Halsin’s not special, though he wants to be. But he knows I’m not interested.”

“Could have fooled me, darling.”

There’s a strange sound like a garbled wheeze. Gale clears his throat. “No, Halsin, he...uh, he knows, I’ve told him clearly, but, he, uh. He also knows that… Um…” Gale’s voice is quiet. “That I…uh, I like the… Hm. The…the attention.”

Astarion’s brows raise at that, both the admission and the guilt in Gale’s voice take him by surprise. He spares another glance to Gale, sees him still pressed up to the side of the pool, but the side of his face that’s visible, his cheek and his ear, both are vibrantly red.

Astarion’s pulse picks up. “You… like the attention?”

Gale’s fingers twitch, his grip on the edge tightening. “…Yes.”

This new little factoid blows Astarion’s mind wide open. He’d have never guessed something like this of Gale, the magnanimous golden boy that he seems to be.

When Astarion doesn’t respond, Gale continues, apparently nervous about his lack of response. “And Halsin’s a, uh…he’s a wide net sort of person.”

Astarion blinks. “What does that mean?”

Gale shifts just enough that one eye can level him a long look from his hiding place. “I’m saying he’s gunning for you too.”

Astarion nearly loses his footing for the second time today. He squawks in shock. “What?! I thought he wanted to bend me over his knee and snap me in half.”

“Oh, I’m certain he wants to bend you over.”

Astarion’s whole body erupts with heat. He’s not interested in Halsin, of course, but he’s also not blind. That skyscraper of a man is attractive, at the very least, and to hear that he apparently wants both him and Gale…

He looks away, sniffing delicately. “Well then. Can’t say he hasn’t got exquisite taste.”

“I agree.”

Astarion jolts, shooting a quick look back to Gale. Two eyes watch him this time, still framed by an abundance of pinkened skin. Gale looks almost… shy, which is another shock to Astarion’s system. To see such a handsome, confident man with such an endearing expression makes the ire in his gut settle somewhat. But he’s still confused.

“Let’s say I believe that Halsin is interested in me. What does that have to do with anything?”

Gale doesn’t answer immediately, face turning even more red. “…He was asking about you today, if I knew why you missed class and if you were alright. I…” Gale clears his throat. “Uh. I perhaps became…jealous.”

Ah.

It all makes sense now. Astarion huffs a sigh. “Well, I’m certainly not going to fight you for him, or anything—”

“No. I was jealous of him.”

Astarion’s mouth clicks shut.

Gale looks away again, face hidden once more, his forehead pressed near where his hands grip the ledge so fiercely. His ears are so red they look purple. “Halsin knows I’m not interested in him but he knows I like attention and he gives it freely when I ask for it. I haven’t asked for it, not for a while... But I didn’t like him asking about you and I got jealous, even though I know that’s foolish of me, when you haven’t… When we haven’t… So I took the opportunity to…” Gale clears his throat again, sounding strained. “Um. Distract him. To get him to stop talking about you.”

Astarion has nothing to say. How can he?

His brain feels like it’s short-circuited or something and he takes a moment to figure out if he’s hallucinating. Because by all accounts, it sounds like Gale is confessing. Like he’s saying he’s interested in Astarion, actually, which is something Astarion’s wanted, sure, even fantasized about, daydreamed about, but apparently never actually believed could be possible.

Because he bursts out laughing.

It comes out in a wheeze that has him snorting dried blood into the towel. He takes a moment to wipe himself off, gently blowing his nose into it in between laughter, relieved to see he’s stopped bleeding. That ball must have given him a concussion, or damaged his brain, because this all feels like a fever dream now.

He can’t stop himself. “You’re not one of those people who gets off on cripples, are you?”

Gale looks over slowly. “What?”

Astarion shrugs. “You know, chair chasers, that sort of thing. Like a wheelchair fetish or something like that.”

Gale reacts as if he’s been shot, eyes going wide and slightly wet, his mouth falling open in surprise. He stares at Astarion without speaking, like he has no words.

The devastation in his eyes is so intense that Astarion actually feels guilty for saying anything. “Ignore that, sorry.” He mutters, looking away and tossing the soiled towel out of the pool just for something to do with his hands. “I was just rambling, forget it.”

“Astarion.” Gale’s voice is soft and slightly uneven. Like he’s wounded. “Do you seriously not know how wonderful you are?”

The words have Astarion freezing like an animal about to be struck by a vehicle, wide-eyed and caught in the oncoming headlights. The hair on the back of his neck stands up and another laugh threatens to surge up from his throat.

Water splashes quietly and Astarion flinches, turning to see Gale move away from the wall, to face him fully. His expression hurts, and Astarion’s eyes dart away from it, his face growing hot. That’s not fair, for Gale to look at him like that.

“I was already impressed by the strength of your character when I first spoke to your sister on the phone. Before I even knew you, before we’d ever met.” Gale steps closer, and Astarion’s throat closes. “And then I saw you and — gods, it was like I couldn’t breathe at the sight of you. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. The moment our eyes met, I felt like I might drown.”

This time the laugh does spill out, but it’s nervous and much too sharp, a halting little titter much like a startled horse and Astarion tries to swallow it down in a panic. Gale moves again, coming closer, his hands lifting to brace on either side of Astarion against the pool wall behind him.

Astarion’s breath catches, his face burning now. He shrinks into himself, trying to back up as much as he can. This is too close.

“And then I met you,” Gale murmurs, voice perfectly clear over the pounding of Astarion’s heart in his ears. “And you’re funny and charming and clever and so determined. Watching you come to class, watching you get stronger day after day, how your whole face lights up with pride — Astarion, you must know I’m crazy about you.”

No, this is all breaking news to Astarion, who can’t get enough air in his lungs. Face hot enough to ignite, he chances a glance up to Gale’s face. They’re so close, just like before, but Astarion feels wildly more vulnerable than he did when there were literal stars in his vision from the ball striking his skull.

He must look like a drowned rat right now, no doubt sporting a mark on his face from the impact and perhaps there’s blood on his skin he didn’t wipe well enough. His arms and legs still feel tired, and he shakes ever so slightly from fatigue. But Gale is looking at him like none of that matters, his eyes full of shining adoration.

Astarion shivers from the strength of that stare, overwhelmed and craving more all at once.

He’s terrified but…

There’s some loose locks of that long hair falling to frame Gale’s dazzling face, and Astarion’s hand lifts of its own volition to sweep it back, tucking it neatly behind Gale’s ear before he even realizes what he’s doing. Those beautiful brown eyes shine at him, Gale tilting his head to nuzzle into where Astarion’s hand lingers.

Then Gale leans in.

The kiss is so soft, Astarion thinks he’s imagining it. Gale’s lips brush gently over his, tender and sweet, a warm, intimate cling of sensitive flesh that has Astarion’s skin erupting in goosebumps. He’s frozen yet again, unable to breathe as Gale kisses him.

Every salacious fantasy, every feverish dream, all full of heat and sweat and aggression, this chaste touch shatters all of them into dust. Something deep and broken inside of him shudders and reassembles, like a creature waking from a long sleep, blinking at the rising sun.

It’s over much too soon, Gale pulling back with his cheeks once more rosy. “Was that alright?”

Astarion realizes he hasn’t said a word for quite some time, rendered completely speechless throughout Gale’s little speech. For the first time in his life, there are no witticisms or pointed remarks at the ready. There’s not even denial, despite how it perches on his tongue at all times.

Instead, wide-eyed and wanting, all he can manage is, “Again.”

They move at the same time, each surging forward, and their mouths meet with a soft clack of teeth, but Astarion doesn’t care, kissing harder, starving for this man for so long now, starving not just for his taste but his touch as well. He tilts his head and parts his lips further, an open invitation that Gale readily accepts. When their tongues touch for the first time, Astarion lights up like smokepowder, unthinkingly sliding his fingers into Gale’s hair.

Gale makes a low sound at that and kisses him deeper, tongue slipping into Astarion’s mouth, almost shy at first, and then bolder, and then it’s hot and wet and dizzying and almost too much to handle.

When was the last time Astarion had been touched like this? A long time for his mind, even longer for his body.

Too long.

And so many of those times colored by drugs and alcohol, hazy behind a veil of distraction. There’s nothing to distract him now, and every bit of sensation feels explosive, trails of fire wherever Gale makes contact. He’s addicted to this now and he knows he’ll never get enough.

A hand lands on his hip, shockingly hot under the water despite the pool being heated, and Astarion makes a sound like a whine in his throat, his back thudding into the wall behind him as Gale crowds into him. His fingers sink deeper into Gale’s hair, tugging it gently. Gale makes another low sound and presses closer, caging Astarion in.

That broad chest presses flat to his own, and Gale’s skin is scorching, giving him goosebumps again, his whole body shivering at the feel of bare skin, slippery in the water. There’s the added thrill of Gale’s ample chest hair, felt in every tiny slide of skin on skin, that has Astarion’s nipples hardening and heat pooling between his legs.

Gale’s mouth tastes like chlorine and something else, something metallic, and Astarion realizes that’s not from Gale, but from the nosebleed. There are no complaints though, only Gale shifting close again, this time his hips closing the gap between them and pining Astarion with heat and pressure and the stiff line of something hard. It digs into his own matching hardness and sends a jolt right through him, making him tense up, gasping into Gale’s mouth.

Gale pulls back immediately, face flushed and concern in the pinch of his brow. He’s panting. “I’m sorry.”

Astarion’s breathing just as hard, thoughts sluggish and his hips hitching forward mindlessly. “What for?”

“Did I hurt you?”

Astarion shakes his head, trying to pull Gale back in, but Gale’s unmoving. Astarion doesn’t like that and it must show on his face because a laugh snuffs out of Gale’s nose as he leans forward to press their foreheads together.

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t know quite what to do with myself.”

Astarion tugs again. “Try more kissing, I hear that’s plenty effective.”

Another breathy laugh. “But, I know it’s been a while for you, so—”

Astarion pulls his head away, abruptly embarrassed and angry in equal measure. “Says who?”

“You did.” There’s amusement on Gale’s face, his brows raised at Astarion. “Astarion, the coma.”

Astarion settles. “Oh. Right.”

Gale shifts again, slower this time, erasing the space between them once more until they’re pressed together again. That tantalizing mouth hovers just over his own, Gale’s warm breath puffing against his lips like a promise. “Just, tell me if it’s too much?”

Astarion’s breath catches, eyes unfocusing when their hips slot together perfectly, as if they were made to. Words nearly fail him, but he cups the back of Gale’s head, fingers thoroughly tangled into the mess of what’s left of his bun, his other hand sliding down Gale’s chest. “Not enough, actually.”

The sight of those plump lips, damp and shining with Astarion’s spit, has want clouding his head and heat pooling in his gut. Even if it shakes him apart, he won’t ask Gale to stop. He’s wanted this for too long to show any sort of restraint now.

And if this isn’t a dream or some sort of concussion-induced hallucination, Astarion intends to drink his fill until he’s glutted.

He tilts his chin up and then Gale is kissing him again, so fiercely that Astarion has to brace himself on the wall just to keep his footing as their tongues lap at each other. Hands skim down his back and grip at his waist, large palms and long fingers giving him a squeeze, and then they keep going, sliding down to cup Astarion’s backside. The touch has him whining again, arching closer and throbbing all over.

Gale paws at him, rougher than expected, and it sets him aflame, every yearning neuron in his body screaming for more. His arms hook around Gale’s neck and he unthinkingly clings, holding his weight, his feet barely brushing the floor anymore.

Without warning, Gale’s hands slide even lower and clasp the backs of Astarion’s thighs, lifting him with ease and guiding Astarion to wrap his legs around Gale’s waist. If not for the water’s help, Astarion wouldn’t be able to hold his legs up, but floating makes it much more manageable. One strong arm hooks around Astarion’s back to hold him tight and the other strays down again, hand returning to grope his ass.

Astarion throbs, groaning roughly into Gale’s mouth and tightening his legs as best he can. The muscles protest, shaking in warning, struggling to stay up even with the water’s buoyancy helping. But he can link his ankles, at least.

Not that he even needs to. With Gale’s strong grip on him, Astarion’s not going anywhere he doesn’t want to. This stability gives him the courage to rock his hips forward, feeling the steely line of Gale’s cock barely contained by that ridiculous swimsuit.

It’s hot and hard against him, a buzz building in his head as he grinds into it. The thought of getting his hands on it, or gods, his mouth–

Their kisses devolve into messy, panting bites, and Gale all but crushes him against the wall, powerful legs pining him in place and hips thrusting a barely there rhythm between his thighs. That hand on his ass squeezes and then shifts again, sliding inwards to the intimate cleft between his cheeks, fingers teasing down down down, until they skim over the sensitive puckered skin of Astarion’s hole, and he twitches, moaning loud as he falls away from Gale’s mouth.

A wet hand quickly covers his lips, muffling the sound.

“Shh!” Gale hisses, not unkindly, softening his grip to stroke down past Astarion’s chin instead. “Astarion, remember we’re not exactly alone here.”

Abruptly Astarion does remember, eyes blinking open to the brightly lit pool room around them and turning to see the large glass doors at the back and the empty hallway beyond. Anyone stepping into that hallway, even all the way at the end of it, would easily see the two of them entangled together. Although the pool is technically closed, that doesn’t mean no one will wander this way. There are still people in the building.

He turns back to Gale, who has an exceptionally guilty look on his face. “You started it.”

Gale flushes beautifully, biting his lip. “…I wasn’t expecting this to happen here.”

Astarion hums, clenching his thighs together just to watch Gale’s lids flutter. “Having second thoughts, darling?”

“No.” The answer is immediate. Beyond the embarrassment is a clear determination in Gale’s eyes. “Not at all.”

Astarion doesn’t care as much as he should about the threat of being caught, though he realizes Gale’s the one at risk here. His fingers clench selfishly in Gale’s hair at the thought of pulling away. “Want to stop?”

Gale doesn’t answer right away, though he’s hasn’t stopped cupping Astarion’s ass. His eyes dart to the glass doors and then back, desire just as obvious in his heated gaze as it is currently digging into the crease of Astarion’s inner thigh.

He swallows. “No.”

Astarion tugs him back in to another deep kiss, groaning happily as Gale’s tongue teases past his lips, and then it’s as if they never stopped, Gale leaning into him again and his hips resuming their teasing little rhythm. It’s maddening, those careful, considerate brushes of bathing suit against boxers, and it has pleasure coiling tight in Astarion’s belly even as his frustration grows.

It’s not enough.

He reaches down blindly between them and presses his palm over the thick line of Gale’s cock, eyes going wide with appreciation. Gale grunts against his mouth, movements faltering and then stilling. His mouth goes adorably lax as Astarion explores the length of him.

Gale is thick.

And so hard that Astarion briefly wonders if he’s made a mistake and accidentally found some sort of metal plumbing pipe under the water. But the soft choking gasps that Gale keeps making, and the way he’s twitching and tensing as Astarion squeezes prove he’s in the right place. He glances down, feeling like his nose is going to start bleeding again, but the water distorts everything beneath the surface, making it impossible to see what he’s feeling.

If only he didn’t have to breathe, he could sink down and happily live between Gale’s thighs for as long as he wanted.

“Gods…” He mutters, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Did you have to get a permit to carry this thing around?”

Gale’s laugh is a garbled thing, a mixed whine and wheeze all at once. “Don’t tease.”

“Oh, I have no intention of that.” Astarion promises, proving his point and quickly shifting his hand to slip inside of Gale’s little speedo and lay his palm back where it was with no barrier to block him this time.

Gale shudders, forehead dropping to land heavy on Astarion’s shoulder, a moan of his own slipping out, muffled into the skin. Astarion’s fingers wrap around Gale’s cock as much as they can, and he nearly whistles. He’s not typically someone who cares much about something like this, knowing that it’s not the size, it’s what one does with it that matters.

But he’s fairly certain Gale’s more than aware of how to wield himself.

The thought has Astarion’s head dizzy all over again, his breaths shaky and fast.  He begins to stroke, base to just under the head where it flares beautifully and then back down again. Gale’s teeth sink into his shoulder, a sharp inhale at the touch but Gale making no move to stop him.

Astarion shivers just from the feel of it in his hand, fingers tracing the thick vein throbbing energetically against the pad of his thumb.

He wants it inside.

“I’m not sure that’s advisable, given the clandestine nature of this moment.” Gale says gruffly, making Astarion realize he’d voice his desire aloud.

“No?” Astarion tightens his grip innocently, and he lowers his voice to a whisper. “Not even if I beg?”

With a rough sound, Gale bites him again, sending sparks crackling outward from the point of contact. Astarion squeezes his thighs again, as much as he’s able, using his crossed ankles as leverage, and he grips Gale’s cock tighter, sliding upwards to the immaculate head and capping over it with his palm. Velvet-covered steel throbs in his grasp, fierce and eager.

To know Gale’s as turned on as he is has Astarion burning ever hotter, and he’ll drag Gale out of this pool to go fuck on his office desk if he needs to.

Knowing Gale won’t let him drop, Astarion relinquishes his one-armed hold around Gale’s neck to reach down and push the front of his boxers down, finally freeing himself too. He presses the length of it against Gale’s, shivering as they make contact with each other, and he rocks his hips again, making them rub against each other between his palms.

Gale moans into his neck and squeezes his ass with both hands, holding him in place and joining in, hips bucking into Astarion almost helplessly. The wall braces Astarion’s back and he pushes against it, jutting his hips forward so that now Gale is grinding their cocks together between them with each furtive thrust. It makes the pressure in Astarion’s belly tighten further.

There’s a quick squeeze to Astarion’s ass again, and then Gale makes a frustrated noise, huffing out quick through his nose. He unwinds Astarion’s legs from his waist, carefully helping him stand again and then he leans in with a quick kiss before pulling away completely.

“Wait here.”

And then he’s off, pulling himself out of the pool again with just his arms like he’s too good for the stairs or ladders. If Astarion has to watch this happen one more time, he’s going to go feral and bite off a piece of Gale’s stupid fat ass.

He waits uselessly as Gale hurries to the locker room, disappearing inside, the cute sound of his wet feet on the concrete growing softer again. It sounds like something falls over, something scattering to the ground, and then the lights in the poolroom abruptly shut off. Only the minimal light of the locker room shines now, spilling out over where Astarion grows increasingly impatient.

Waiting means time to think.

Time to think means he starts to doubt himself.

But then Gale appears again, an armful of towels in one arm and something gripped tight in the opposite hand. With the bright light behind him and the rest of his hair having fallen out of its bun at some point, he looks like sort of strange divine god of water.

If not for the fact that his speedo is still rucked down and his dick is hanging out.

The towels get thrown to the floor and Gale strips off his speedo entirely, tossing the wet fabric somewhere with an audible splat then wasting no time in jumping back into the pool once he’s nude. Astarion is immediately gathered back up in strong arms and quickly kissed as Gale walks them both away from the light towards a much darker corner.

They’ll be almost impossible to see here.

“You drive me to madness,” Gale confesses against Astarion’s mouth, hand sliding down to push at Astarion’s underwear. “You make me feel like there’s lightning coursing through my veins once again.”

Astarion blinks dazedly, heat blooming hot within and spreading, beyond his arousal, and he moans, helping Gale to shove his underwear down to mid-thigh. There’s a click and Astarion sees what Gale had in his hand, a small tub of petroleum jelly, the second surprise of the night.

Not that he’s complaining.

“Right here in the water?” He bites his lip, excitement rising. “You filthy devil.”

Gale’s got that guilty look on his face again and Astarion kisses it away, winding an arm around Gale’s neck and rolling the length of his body against him in a sinuous slide. Taking advantage of Gale’s distraction, he dips two fingers into the container, scooping up a generous dollop, and then he reaches behind himself to smear it against his hole.

It’s much too viscous to dilute in the water, and it feels strange on his skin, like some sort of ointment for babies with diaper rash.

He presses against himself, aiming for speed rather than enjoyment, but then Gale’s hand slides back to join him. Astarion jolts, looking up in surprise and meeting Gale’s eyes full of heat as his fingertips circle around Astarion’s.

“By all means, darling,” Astarion says, voice only trembling a little bit. “If you’d like to help.”

Gale’s lips move in to ghost over the shell of Astarion’s ear, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down Astarion’s spine.

“Direct me.” He murmurs, soft and low, his fingers pressing teasingly against him. “Tell me how you like to be touched.”

A fissure of heat splits Astarion right down the middle, and his arms rush to cling to Gale’s broad shoulders, eyes widening. No one’s ever made him feel like this, like he’s about to erupt. Careful pressure opens him easily, despite how long it’s been since he’s been touched there, his body opens up for Gale’s fingers like it’s trying to pull him inside.

He’s supposed to be speaking, Gale wanted direction, but Astarion’s stiff and gasping, mouth slack and his eyes nearly rolling back at the feel of fingers slowly thrusting inside of him, one becoming two before he can say anything, and then a third waiting, sliding along the stretched rim.

“Yes,” He gasps, straining into the touch, muscles protesting tiredly as his hips chase the pressure. “Like that, just, yes, please, there!”

The petroleum is thick but it seems to melt inside of him, helping Gale’s fingers slide deeper, their blunted tips stroking his prostate with expert precision. That third finger slips in, barely a burn at all, and Astarion feels himself stretch, shivering at the juxtaposition of temperatures. It feels like some water spills inside him, but it doesn’t matter, everything becoming a blur as he’s stretched open. Perhaps it’s because he’s tired, perhaps it’s because he’s excited, but his body doesn’t protest as Gale adds a fourth finger, his jaw dropping open with a silent gasp.

It barely lasts a minute or more, overstimulation to the point of excess, and then Gale’s carefully easing out of him and kissing his trembling lips.

That’s not the only thing trembling.

“Gale,” His whole body shakes beyond his control, muscles at their limit. “I can’t anymore – my legs—”

“Shh, it’s alright. Turn for me.”

It’s difficult, but Gale helps him spin around, grip helping him stay above water until he’s turned enough to grip the ledge again. He’s breathing heavy for more than just being turned on. It feels like he’s about to sink again, but Gale comes up behind him and takes hold of him.

“I’ve got you.” Gale soothes, mouthing at the back of Astarion’s neck, a distracting line of sucking kisses that makes more shivers trickle down his spine. “Relax, lean on me.”

Gale’s body is hot, his warmth a comfort against Astarion’s back. Arms come up to wrap around him, one securely across Astarion’s chest, the other firm at his hip, tugging him close until all space between them is gone. The hard line of Gale’s cock slots in between his cheeks, enticing enough to distract Astarion momentarily from how little strength he has remaining. His muscles ache, trembling with fatigue, so overtaxed by now.

“I’ve got you.” Gale murmurs again, lips touching along the shell of Astarion’s ear. “I won’t let go.”

The hand on his hips leaves momentarily, Gale adjusting himself, that blunted head sliding into place and tapping at Astarion’s hole. The tiny impacts each send a jolt through him.

A tiny whisper of doubt creeps in as he fully takes stock of the sheer size of this man.

But Astarion is nothing if not adventurous.

Gale presses in slowly, and Astarion bites at his forearm to quiet the shout he nearly makes as that bulbous tip spears him open. Gale feels humongous, and it burns as his aching rim stretches, the head slipping inside. Gale stops at that and they both let out shaking breaths.

“Are you – is this alright?”

Astarion grunts, unable to form words, forcing himself to relax and shifting his hips backwards. He’s fine, he can handle this, he just needs Gale to keep going. The thick petroleum eases the way considerably, and Gale thankfully presses again, sinking deeper, sliding in slow and steady and sure until he’s seated completely, and Astarion’s slack-jawed with shock.

It’s been so long.

He shifts his hips in circles, trying to get used to how full he feels, trying to remember if he’s ever been this stuffed in his life, and his breath hitches. Each rocking shift has the muscles in his ass clenching and that makes his vision blur.

Gale’s lips and breath tease against the shell of his ear, voice a rough growl. “You’re so damn tight inside, I can barely fit.”

Astarion’s entire body spasms at the filthy praise, making him clench even tighter, and they both hiss at that.

Strong behind him, holding him easily, Gale is true to his word. Not that Astarion’s at risk of floating away anyway, tethered with this bastard’s damn immovable rod lodged inside of him. But he lets his feet drift off the floor, lets the water and Gale’s arms hold him, and he relaxes. The tension eases considerably and he sighs. Muscles no longer clenching in shock, he lets himself go boneless, trusting that he’s safe.

He presses his palms to the wall to brace himself, glancing over his shoulder with as much flirtatiousness as he can muster while panting and shaking. “All yours, love.”

Gale doesn’t hesitate, hips bucking against him, and they both hiss again, but there’s no discomfort this time. Instead, only a deep, thrumming pleasure as Gale pulls out, withdrawing slowly and then pushing back in. Astarion lets out a long drawn-out moan as he’s filled again. Gale’s so thick, his cock grinds directly into Astarion’s prostate without even trying. He can’t help the noisy little whimper he makes as Gale bottoms out again. But despite the darkness, despite the hour, they still need to be somewhat quiet, he tries to bite them back as best he can.

Gale starts thrusting in earnest, sliding in and out of him at a brisk pace and Astarion’s on the edge immediately. He fights back another wail, head dropping back to land on Gale’s shoulder, and the arm around his chest tightens. Lips continue to suck along the stretch of Astarion’s neck, but it slows as Gale’s pace quickens, more of a breathy press of lips than an actual kiss.

“G-Good?” Astarion wheezes, completely incapable of acting coy as he’s brute forced towards an outrageous internal orgasm.

Gale moans in his ear, sending more sparks through him. “Amazing. Astarion, you – hells, you feel incredible.”

His pace picks up, thrusting deep inside again and again, almost impatiently, like he can’t get enough. Astarion rides it out, clinging to the edge of the pool limply as he’s fucked. It’s good, it’s very good, but it’s too much, just wave after wave of sensation that has his toes curling and his thighs tensing, his breaths so fast he feels lightheaded.

“Wait, Gale – ah, please, s-slow down, too much!”

Gale listens immediately, halfway out of him and pace coming to a crawl. He pulls out completely, rigid heat dragging along Astarion’s walls and that’s not what Astarion meant, whining in frustration at the loss.

“Did I hurt you?”

Gale’s so sweet, Astarion can’t be mad, but he feels terribly empty now, clenching around nothing. He swallows. “No, no, come back in and do all that again, just, slower.”

Gale doesn’t laugh or tease, he just guide himself back, probing at Astarion’s tender well-stretched hole again and then he’s sliding back inside, much easier this time. Astarion shivers and groans in gratitude.

Yes, exactly like that.

He’s swollen and slick and sore and it feels so good, Astarion’s eyes threaten to roll back. There’s some sort of mixture of noises spilling from his wide open mouth but he can’t even understand what he’s saying, firmly on autopilot as his brain short-circuits. Some of it must be begging because Gale’s cooing affirmations roughly into his ear. Every time Gale bottoms out, Astarion’s mind blanks and his body jolts.

Then he’s lost in the immaculate drag of skin on skin, belly tightening again, thighs twitching like he wants to run, and fingers suddenly wrap around his neglected cock and squeeze and Astarion bucks with a yelp, his body stuttering as his orgasm roars through him like thunder.

Everything clenches and contracts inside and behind him, Gale makes a similarly affected sound, grip on Astarion’s cock tightening as he comes, thickly spurting into the water in long, dizzying spurts. But Gale’s hips don’t stop and he fucks Astarion through his orgasm, pleasure and pain in equal measure, stars bursting in his vision.

Gale falters behind him, and bucks hard against him, making rapid little thrusts that stay deep. Astarion has just enough presence of mind to register the feeling of Gale’s cock pulsing within him, the sound of Gale’s ragged breathing in his ear, and how warm he feels slumped against Astarion’s back.

He’s still throbbing when Gale shifts, hissing softly as he carefully pulls out of Astarion’s still twitching grasp.

“Ah.” Astarion says inelegantly, exhausted to the point of his eyelids drooping. His hole feels loose and sensitive. He might be leaking, but because of the jelly and the pool water, he has no idea of anything beyond wet and squishy. “Gonna need to leave the filters running overnight, aren’t you.”

Gale makes that adorable little breathless laugh of his and then tucks one of Astarion’s messy curls behind his ears. “I’ll add some extra chlorine, it’ll be fine.”

“Dirty.”

Gale laughs again, then goes to do the thing again, tugging himself out of the pool with his arms, this time his bare ass fully on display.

Astarion stares at it tiredly, resting his head against the ledge, his eyes narrowing. “Stop doing that. The stairs are right there.”

“I’m well aware.” Gale’s voice is full of confidence and amusement, the brat, and he crosses to the pile of towels he’d dumped before. He carries them all up and brings them closer, laying them out across the floor, two towels thick. Turning, he squats down in front of Astarion, arms folded over his knees, and his expression all sass. “But you like watching me do it.”

Astarion doesn’t have the energy to be indignant, so he pouts. “Menace.”

Gale reaches out his arms. “Can I pull you out?”

It only takes a moment to consider, then Astarion nods.

Gale’s strong hands come hooking under his armpits and Astarion is lifted right out of the water with far too much ease, Gale holding his weight like he’s no heavier than a damp blanket. There’s no attempt to make him stand on his own, Gale immediately guiding him to the sprawl of blankets and helping him lay down onto them, then laying right next to him.

Astarion lets out a slow breath as his body stretches out, joints he didn’t even know existed popping and relaxing. He's exhausted, but in the best way possible. His underwear is still pushed down to his thighs, but he doesn’t have the energy to pull them up. A grin stretches his face as his blood supply returns to his brain. They lay together in comfortable silence for a while, the soft hum of the pool motor and the gentle splash of water lulling Astarion into a state of meditative bliss.

“That was better than therapy. I think I almost died.” He says happily, blinking up at the ceiling. Then he turns to look at Gale, finding those brown eyes already watching him, full of warmth and affection. “We’ve got to do that again. At least one more time.”

Gale snorts and then moves to sit up, stretching attractively so that all the muscles of his arms flex. After that little show, he stands, clearly unashamed about his nudity, much to Astarion’s benefit, then he moves to retrieve his discarded speedo.

Making no move to hide all the hidden places on his body as he bends, he slips it back on, one leg at a time, smirking over at Astarion as he does so. “Once, twice, a hundred times, as many as you like. Though…” He picks up one of the towels and begins to dry his hair, smirking at him. “We’re going to need to work on your stamina.”

Astarion lifts one hand and points up to the ceiling in protest. “How dare you, I did quite well, all things considered.” The quiver in his arm has him dropping it back down to the floor faster than he’d like.

“Oh, don’t mistake me. That wasn’t a complaint, I’m quite satisfied.” Gale’s voice is sincere, but then it fills with mischief. “But I also like to be pinned down and I hope we can make that happen someday.”

Astarion whips his head back to Gale again, mouth falling open in dumbfounded shock as images of being between those strong, limber legs fill his brain. A rush of renewed vigor has him rolling over onto his stomach and attempting to crawl back towards the pool with still-weak limbs.

“Alright, come on,” He wheezes, rejuvenated. “Let’s get back to work. I have muscles to grow, and don’t go easy on me anymore, I want the real advanced class. The hardcore muscle builder. Come on, hustle, Gale, hustle. Time is of the essence, darling, let’s go!”

Gale’s laughter bounces off the walls, and he come closer, kneeling down next to him, reaching to touch Astarion’s shoulder. “As much as I’m tempted to get lost in you again, I really must be getting home soon. Tara’s waiting for me.”

Astarion blinks, everything rapidly dimming. “…Oh.”

But Gale snorts, and gives him a good-natured glare. “Astarion, Tara is my tressym, remember?”

“Oh! Right, of course!” There is a foggy memory of Gale mentioning a pet during their rooftop chat weeks ago, but Astarion also knows he’d spent a good amount of that time staring at Gale’s handsome profile while the sun set behind him. “I absolutely remember that.”

Gale’s smirk speaks volumes. “I’m sure you do. So, I was going to say, hungry house pets aside, I have a counteroffer to your energetic zeal for the ‘advanced class’.” The fingers lightly trace shapes over the curve of Astarion’s shoulder. “Come home with me.”

His breath catches. For a glorious second, he almost says yes, but then he remembers. “…My chair.”

“Leave it here tonight.” Gale’s eyes are smoldering. “I have a spare at my house. You can borrow it, and in the morning, I’ll drive you back here to pick your chair up again.”

A brief and tantalizing image of Gale carrying Astarion out to his car has him momentarily speechless, not ashamed at all at how much he enjoys the idea. It crushes the deep void of inadequacy and his self-imposed limitations into smithereens, and he realizes there’s no need to say no. But Gale must misread his silence, because his voice is beseeching when he next speaks.

“I have a jacuzzi bath. It’s quite…” The fingers slide up to the sensitive skin on the back of Astarion’s neck, his voice rough in a way that has Astarion’s face flushing with heat. “Therapeutic. Really excellent for sore muscles.”

Astarion’s jaw goes slack. Gale is practically pleading for Astarion to come home with him, this gorgeous hunk of a man, for Astarion. If Astarion hadn’t just been railed to within an inch of his life by this very same man, he’d suspect himself a victim of a hidden camera prank show.

Part of him wants to see how hard he can make Gale beg.

But Astarion is many things, as he’s learning about himself again, and cruel isn’t one of them. He pushes himself up on one arm so that he can reach out with the other, hooking his hand behind Gale’s neck in a matching pose. “Say no more, darling, you had me the moment you gave me your onion rings.” And he pulls him down into a quick but greedy kiss. “Let’s go.”

It’s easy to get to Gale’s car, to let Gale bring his chair back inside the gym and lock up in his office, to hold Gale’s hand while he’s driven to his home, to use the loaner chair to get inside once there. It’s even easier to slide inside that jacuzzi bathtub and then, after Gale joins him and climbs onto his lap, to slide inside Gale as well, those strong thigh muscles doing all the work while Astarion holds on for dear life.

The easiest of all is after, curling up with Gale in his monstrously huge bed and talking and flirting until it’s so late that the clock turns one day into the next, and Astarion knows he’s never ever letting this go.

Chapter Text

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Three Years Later

Astarion lets the music guide him, Gale’s arm looped around his lower back and holding him tight as they dance gracefully across the polished hardwood floor. One step, two step, spin and turn. All the months of practice, Astarion doesn’t want to screw it up. Not now, as they share this moment with all the others around them. The song crescendos and Astarion’s feet are sure and steady on the floor, perfectly synchronized with Gale’s. He can feel the eyes upon them both and the sweat beading his brow.

As the final notes come to their inevitable end, Astarion beams from ear to ear, triumphant.

The crowd around them applauds and cheers, someone tinking their fork against a champagne glass that prompts them both to kiss. When Gale pulls away, Astarion grins at him, immensely pleased.

“Told you I could do it, love.”

Gale lifts a brow at him, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“Yes, but the theater of it all, I couldn’t let the audience down.”

Laughing fondly, Gale gives him a look that’s only half-serious. “Astarion, that’s no way to speak about our wedding guests.”

The applause ends and the music kicks up again into something fun with a quick beat, and all around them, people start getting up from their tables to join them on the dancefloor.

Astarion looks off to the side, over to the shining bald head of a towering man currently bawling his eyes out, and the much shorter man at his side. Boo shoots Astarion a big thumbs up while Minsc continues to cry, his other hand reaching up to rub his husband’s shuddering back.

Astarion can hear him from here, even over the music.

“He has so m-much to be proud of!” Another heaving sob. “Minsc is beyond happiness to be here!”

Astarion smirks fondly. While he enjoyed his first dance as a married man with his own two feet on the floor, Minsc has been safekeeping his chair for him. With Gale’s arm clutching him tight the whole time, he’s only slightly tired after that little performance. But he’s more than ready to sit back down in comfort.

“Minsc!” He calls out, over the music, reaching out his arm. “My chair, it’s time!”

Minsc, tears streaming down his cheeks and smiling like a maniac, pushes the chair out onto the floor towards him. It’s a far cry from that motorized monstrosity of the past, this sleek little number much lighter, shinier, and no outdated mechanics required. After so long building muscle, and with such a dedicated teacher, Astarion handles it quite easily, needing only the power from his arms to propel it.

The chair glides over with perfect aim into Astarion’s waiting grasp, and he spins it effortlessly to fall back onto its lush padded seat, Gale helping him down. He gives a sigh of relief as he gets off his trembling legs. They’ll stop after a few moment’s rest, and already he’s breathing easier.

Gale kneels down to help him get settled, clicking both of the footrests into place, the act done so many times before. Then he stands and braces himself onto the sleek metal frame, hands on either side of Astarion as he leans over.

“Ready for something a little more fast-paced?” He asks, beaming down at him.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion grabs his tie and pulls him down the rest of the way for another kiss. “You had your chance to show off already. You know I can dance circles around you in my chair.”

Gale stares at him with stars in his eyes, but he’s unable to deny this very serious truth. Astarion’s nigh unstoppable in this thing and he’s going to make sure everyone knows it. Feeling a bit mischievous, he tugs at the side of Gale’s tuxedo, spinning him quick before he can react, and then he hooks his arm around Gale’s middle and tugs him backwards into his lap. Gale tumbles right into his clutch and Astarion gives a wicked laugh.

Before Gale can get up, not that he would, precious little thing, Astarion grips both his wheels and darts them forward through the growing crowd. “Make way, precious cargo coming through! Newly married and off the market, sorry, everyone.”

There’s laughter around them, Jaheira nearby giving one of her wheezy guffaws, and Astarion does a quick spin right there in the middle of everyone, delighting as Gale is forced to clutch at him so he doesn’t fall off.

“Astarion!” Gale laughs, cheeks flushed and beautiful. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“Well, then, love,” Astarion says loud enough that others can hear, and dropping his voice to a flirtatious growl. “Then you know exactly how I feel every time I look at you.”

There’s a collective coo of approval around them, people laughing and cheering some more and Astarion grins wolfishly as Gale folds into his neck, the heat of his husband’s embarrassment like a brand against his skin. But Astarion knows he’s eating up the attention from the way Gale shivers against him.

For Gale’s ears only, he says in a low voice, “All eyes are on you, love. Let them enjoy how handsome you look in that suit, because tonight, I’ll be tearing it off of you.”

There’s a quick intake of breath and fingers dig into Astarion’s shoulders, then Gale leans back, still flushed and happy and gorgeous. Astarion leans in to steal another kiss as more people populate the floor around them.

“Alright, husband mine.” He allows Gale to stand from his lap, one hand to help him up without letting go. “Shall we tear up the dancefloor once more?”

Gale’s hand holds firm to his own, their rings glinting in the dancing lights from above. His smile turns gentle. “I don’t think anyone could stop you, my love.”

The only one who ever could was Astarion himself. But he’s not that man anymore.

He grips a wheel with his free hand and lifts a brow. “You’re damn right. Let’s dance!”