Astarion Sits So Close To You By The Campfire That You Knock Knees.

Astarion sits so close to you by the campfire that you knock knees.

Your shoulders brush as you shift your weight in an attempt to get more comfortable on the log you've all been using as a makeshift bench, and you wonder if his sensitive ears pick up the sound of your heart as it races in your chest.

You just can't handle it.

How when he laughs at your jokes it's a full-bodied reaction. His head tilted back, silver curls bouncing along with the shake of his shoulders. You don't think it's exactly voluntary when he reaches out in your direction, cool fingers curling around your forearm like he'll fall over if he doesn't have something to cling to.

All you can focus on for a moment is how how pretty his teeth are– how cute it is that his fang catches his bottom lip and is still visible even once he's closed his mouth.

There's no way whatever you just said is that funny, but his grin isn't even a little dishonest. It's actually so sincere that you can't help but grin back at him. Makes you want to crack another, equally as stupid joke just to see it again once it's gone.

Lovesick fools, the both of you.

He'll somehow scoot even closer if someone decides to sit by his other side. Will loop your arms together and turn towards you, hip against yours, chin resting lightly on the hand he now has on your shoulder. His eyelashes flutter, and your heart follows suit.

You're curled into one another this way, in your own little bubble as he murmurs into your ear and nods along to whatever you say in response. His eyes are so pretty. Carmine in color with pupils so big they're practically glittering from the light of the fire. Wide and soft. Puppyish.

It isn't long before someone makes a comment about it. Be it Lae'zel and her rather interesting input about how you can't keep off of eachother for a second, or just Karlach telling the two of you to get a room. Occasionally, Gale will cough in a very pointed way.

To your dismay, Astarion's gaze loses a little of that softness. You catch the briefest flash of something that resembles annoyance before his lids go heavy again. His eyes crease the slightest bit around the edges before they flick towards your companions– back to you.

If he's feeling cheeky (and he almost always is), he'll put on a show. Will make a comment about how he can't blame them for being jealous, but they don't always have to be so loud about it. Or will throw his head back to moan theatrically about how comfortable and warm you are. Slings one of his legs over your own, the back of his knee hooked by yours as he drapes himself across you all dramatic. Basically, will just be half in your lap for the rest of the evening just to be a nuisance.

Other times, he's just not in the mood. His nose will wrinkle, a crease forming between his brows that you just have to thumb away. He's quiet (almost nervous? shy?) when he asks you if you'd like to spend some time with him in a more private setting. To which you've obviously always responded to with a nod so enthusiastic that he's smiling in that special way again.

You bid your companions goodnight before you're up, arms still looped tightly as you wander towards the direction of his tent. You say something funny, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and his joyful laugh trails off with the sound of your shared footsteps.

"Lovesick fools," Karlach says as she watches the two of you, amusement all in her tone. "The both of them. "