The group's excited chattering about how they were going to besiege Cazador's palace died down to a murmur when Tav guided Astarion toward Their tent with a hand on the small of his back. Most had assumed for weeks now that he and Tav had a sexual relationship of the wicked-vampire-seduces-naive-monk variety, but here was some deliciously public confirmation of their suspicions.

"Stay with me tonight," Tav said under Their breath. Astarion made sure to tilt his head in such a way that it looked like Tav was whispering sweet nothings to him. "I think you should keep out of any direct line of sight while there might be more hired thugs lurking about. And if we're in the same tent, I can protect you better."

"I'd love to, darling."

"Do you need anything from your tent?"

"Not a thing. I've been dying to wear one of those sets of cozy pajamas you're always wandering around the camp in."

Tav smiled brilliantly. "What's mine is yours."

"Oh, I truly hope so."

Astarion hustled ahead and lifted the flap of Tav's tent with a gracious flourish to let the monk enter. Then he made deliberate eye contact with each of the judgmental glares aimed at him from across the campfire before stepping inside with a sassy roll of his hips.

Tav lit a lantern, filling the chilly tent with reddish-gold light. They peeled off the straps of Their small knapsack and began unpacking the contents.

"I found a butcher's shop in Rivington that had goat's blood," They explained, putting a wax-sealed jar on the table within his reach. "Plus some of those little shields Karlach likes to braid into her hair, a new whittling knife for Halsin, and this!"

They produced a white cushion with an embroidered duck on it.

"It's … lovely, dear."

Tav held it out at arm's length. "Look closer."

"Hmm?" He peered at the small pillow, barely bigger than Tav's two hands put together.

"It's a goose! With red glass gems for eyes." Tav pointed out the relevant bits. "It's the breed with those curled feathers, and look! A little bitty fang."

"I think that's a mistake, sweetheart. The artist's hand wobbled and they didn't feel like fixing it."

They flapped a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter how he got that way, the point is: he exists! I shall call him: Goose-tarion." Tav plopped it down amongst the other cushions in Their collection and patted it fondly.

Astarion didn't want to share Tav's affection with anyone, even a novelty pillow. They needed to get down to business.

"So, while we're here …" Astarion looked pointedly at the unfurled bedroll and then flicked his eyes up at Tav.

"Oh! Uh …" Tav's tanned cheeks colored prettily and They chewed a fingernail, in stark contrast with the whirling machine of death They had been not ten minutes prior. "You see, I … I genuinely don't know how to use my body in its natural shape," They confessed. "Not for sex with someone, I mean. In woman-shape, yes. In man-shape, yes. But in …"

"In Tav-shape?" Astarion finished.

Tav's finely-cut mouth curved. "That's right. In Tav-shape, I have no experience."

"Dear me, are you saying you're a virgin?" Astarion put a hand to his chest. "Is it a holiday, beloved? Because that is a gift."

Tav raised a graceful eyebrow. "You did say at the shrine of 'BOOOAL' that you wanted to wake up next to a handsome virgin every morning."

Astarion flushed with some indescribable emotion. To think: Tav remembered an off-hand remark he'd made weeks ago whilst they'd been preparing to battle fish-people.

He cleared his throat. "But that would require not doing the deed all night long, darling, which isn't a trade I'm willing to make."

Tav squinted at him. "Isn't it? You were awfully quick to destroy the amulet."

"That fucking amulet," Astarion cursed poisonously. "Erm ... No pun intended."

Tav laughed, so loudly that the sounds of the campsite outside paused momentarily. Good. It would serve them right for thinking he was only after Tav for Their body.

"Why did you pick 'male'?" Astarion wondered. "Is it because people often mistake you for one?"

"Well, yes. I look more male than female. It's less of a change."

"It's horrible," Astarion blurted out. "I have never been so repulsed by a gorgeous man in all my life! Well … in all my un-life, that is."

"Was it? I mean, was that the only reason?" They eyed him while sitting on a low stool to remove Their boots. "You flirt with me – rather outrageously at times – but on many occasions I sense … reluctance."

Shit.

Tav was far too perceptive. Probably a side effect of all Their monk-ly studies.

He'd learned that the best lies were actually half-truths. Astarion cast his eyes down and ran a finger along the edge of the table holding Tav's collection of decorative pillows and cushions. "Of course I want you terribly, darling, that's no secret. But I sometimes find myself … regretting … that us being together would break any of your vows." He lifted one of the cushions, a plump, palm-sized pillow in green silk with glossy black tassels. "Poverty. Humility." He tilted his head. "Chastity…"

Tav's white grin flashed in the lamplight. "I keep forgetting you don't know much about Sun Souls."

Astarion smiled back, flipping the cushion expertly into Their hands. "Hmm? Enlighten me, then."

"Sun Souls prefer to take joy in things other than material goods and experiences, but it doesn't mean those things are forbidden. We prefer poverty to wealth, because it does not take food or shelter from those who need it more. We prefer humility to fame, because anonymity keeps us from believing ours is the only way to live. We have methods for dealing with sexual energy that don't involve sex, so that no one is surprised by a pregnancy, or devastated to find that the act meant rather less to their partner than it did to them."

Astarion's grin faded. He could well imagine how soul-crushing it would be if he lay with Tav – gave Them the piece of himself that he'd been frantically patching back together since the nautiloid ship picked him up – only to stumble upon Them being railed in the woods by Halsin.

Halsin, that utter bastard, who'd put a hand on Tav's shoulder right in front of Astarion, as if he hadn't been standing three fucking meters away last month when the druid had offered to "share the freedom of Nature's gifts" with Tav, who'd said They were taken, godsdammit.

He turned quickly back to the table and sank his fingers into a black cushion with pink satin trim so that he wouldn't grab for his daggers instead.

"So you're allowed to have these, then? I thought they were a bit of youthful rebellion. 'Monk's first solo outing becomes indiscriminate spending spree!' or something like that."

Tav came up next to him, smelling of sunshine and rosehips, and replaced the green pillow among Their collection.

"Material possessions are not forbidden, simply not encouraged to be a driving force in our lives." Their long brown fingers drifted over the tops of the small items. "I've never seen colors or fabrics like these before. I want to memorize them before I give them away."

"You plan to give these away?"

"Eventually, yes. It wouldn't be practical to haul them all the way back to Morningstar."

Astarion made a wordless response, unable to ask the natural next question: what else They planned to leave behind once the Absolute had been defeated.

Tav took his silence to mean something else.

"Are you … are you alright with just sleeping tonight? I know you were hoping…"

Even if he'd had the words, there was no way to explain the sick melange of relief and disappointment swirling in his gut. Could any combination of sounds describe how desperately he needed Tav to be bound to him, yet how reluctant he was to have Them join the faceless, nameless horde of people who had touched him for their own gratification?

Instead he told Them, "It will be all the sweeter for the waiting, my love. But …" He let his gaze slide toward the closed flap. "... If I go back to my own tent, certain people will think we've had a falling-out, and then you'll have to fight them off with a stick at breakfast. I'd much rather they assume we're getting up to all sorts of debauchery in here."

Tav smiled and shrugged, Their eyes half-closed with sleepiness. "So let's not, and say we did."

"Truly?"

"Sure. I'll even walk funny in the morning if it helps sell the illusion."

"It's a deal, then. We cuddle all night long, and you pretend to have been thoroughly ravished. Everybody wins." He did not add, 'And Gale, Karlach and Halsin can fucking back off and give us some breathing room.'

Tav rubbed Their left eye tiredly and Their hand came away smudged with dark eyeliner.

"Oh, right," They mumbled, suppressing a yawn. "Need to wash up before bed."

"I'll get it," Astarion volunteered, knowing an opportunity when he saw one. "Wait right here, love."

Out at the campfire, he poured water from the tea kettle into a metal bowl, then grumbled noisily under his breath.

Gale looked up from reading by the firelight, a placid expression on that stupidly handsome face of his. "Something amiss?"

"It's lukewarm," Astarion said, holding out the bowl of water. "You've been studying bard spells, haven't you? Could you heat this up a smidge?"

"Certainly, friend."

Astarion watched with veiled anticipation as the wizard touched the bowl with two fingers and the small stream of power for Heat Metal flowed out of him.

"Thank you, dear. It wouldn't do to have cold water." He lowered his lashes and whispered in a confidential tone, "Tav needs a sponge bath, after."

Gale's cool brown eyes flashed with confusion, comprehension, then raging jealousy as the wizard realized he was warming up the tools for post-coital cleanup.

"A little hotter, dear, if you wouldn't mind," Astarion purred. "This will have to stay warm for hours."

He heard the wizard's teeth grind together until they squeaked, but neither took their hands away from the bowl.

Astarion eyed Tav's tent with a small sigh. "Do hurry up, Gale. Tav is waiting, and a cold tent is ever so chilly without your clothes on."

He was ready for it, so he didn't drop the bowl when the metal flared red-hot and the water boiled so abruptly that popping bubbles were flung into the air between their snarling faces.

Gale snatched his hand back with a gasp, belatedly realizing what he'd done. "The bowl! Your hands!"

"No, no. It's perfect," Astarion hissed in pain, meaning every word. "Thank you for your services."

"But –!"

Astarion quick-stepped back to Tav's tent, but not so quickly that the grim odor of searing flesh didn't follow him in. He put the bowl down with a groan.

"Astarion!" Tav didn't look so sleepy anymore, despite having changed into Their cozy green pajamas. "What the hells happened?"

He turned his shaking palms up for Tav's examination, and stopped suppressing the stutter in his voice. "I m-might have g-goaded the wiz-zard a bit too much while he was he-eating the water."

Tav's eyes flared with that eldritch green gleam that They got when one of the party was brutally injured in battle. They took a step toward the tent opening.

"Wait. P-please." Astarion touched Their arm with the back of his trembling hand. "It's n-not entirely his fa-ault." When Tav cupped his wounded hands in Their own, he admitted – with a twist, of course: "I c-couldn't resist teasing him, not af-after the way he looked at you today. I may have un-nderestimated his ability to con-t-trol his temper."

"Gods, Astarion! Why didn't you drop the damned bowl?" They gazed down in horror at the blistered, reddened skin that had already begun to rumple like a bedsheet, with gaping rips between the burned and healthy parts.

"I n-never could resist a staring con-n-test." He jerked his chin in the direction of Their storage chest. "It's not s-so bad. One of the sma-aller healing potions will d-do."

"You don't like healing potions."

Ah, so They had noticed his grimace whenever he drank one of the thick, sickly-sweet concoctions. Most people didn't mind the flavor, given that they were an excellent, if expensive, way to heal an injury without scarring. Astarion, however, had frequently been mind-compelled to drink them by his old master after a severe punishment that would have meant permanent disfigurement if left to heal on its own.

'That will teach you to service me without the proper amount of enthusiasm, boy. Next time I want to hear you positively moaning in ecstasy. Now drink up; you look frightful without any lips.'

A flicker of blackness, and he found himself on the floor of the tent, cradled in Tav's lap.

"Te curo," They said softly. Healing magic rippled over his skin and along his bones, knitting the flesh of his hands back together with a feeling like a cool cloth, and leaving the taste of blueberries at the back of his tongue.

Astarion gazed up at Them, not bothering to hide his adoration. "When did you learn that little trick?"

"Jaheira taught me. I'm still a beginner, but I figured with all the scrapes we get into, every bit of healing helps."

"Hmm," he responded, closing his eyes to enjoy a moment of pain-free closeness with Tav.

"I'll speak to Gale tomorrow," They said with steel in Their voice. "I don't care how provocative your comments are, he can't lose control and injure a party member like that."

"Oh, do let me watch while you scold him. You're so rarely in a temper, but when it happens your cheeks get all flushed. It's quite appealing."

Tav chuckled, leaning over to grab a second set of comfy pajamas on top of Their storage chest. "I'll think about it. For tonight, get changed while I wash my face, yeah?"

"Certainly, my love." Astarion would remove his own subtle makeup after They'd gone to sleep. No need to spoil any of the illusion.

With a weird jolt, he recalled Aurelia telling him that black eyeliner was too harsh on his pale coloring, and helping him select a softer plum-brown shade instead. Then Petras, coaching him on how to apply it to the lower lash line without jabbing himself in the eye.

Astarion stood up quickly and began stripping off his shirt.

Tav angled Themself away to give him privacy he hadn't asked for, dipping a cloth into the steaming bowl and waving it a few times to air-cool before wiping it over Their face.

Astarion lowered the padded red sleep shirt he'd been about to don. "Oh, I …"

Tav raised Their eyebrows, finishing Their jawline with a final swipe.

"I didn't realize the chin stripe was permanent." Astarion ran a thumb down his own chin. "I assumed it was a very stubborn face-paint, like on your eyelids."

"It was face-paint, until last year." Tav folded the cloth and ran it over the back of Their neck. "We use paint until we have mastered meditation enough to withstand the pain of tattooing."

"Your lip as well? That must have been excruciating." Astarion felt a slow fire beginning in his gut for whomever had tap, tap, tapped the little hammer onto the tattooing spike, over and over again as Tav bled…

"No, that's the point. Sun Souls don't graduate from face-paint to a tattoo unless they are able to observe the pain without suffering from it."

" 'Observe the pain.' Now, there's a very monk-like turn of phrase if I've ever heard one." The attackers tonight would not have let Tav "observe the pain" for long. He doubted even the highest-ranking Sunrise Lord in Tav's religion could meditate through having one's toenails removed with pliers.

"Then again, you are surrounded the entire time by people who love and support you, chanting to keep your mind from wandering. That does make it quite a bit easier."

Astarion had no snappy answer for that, so he continued changing.

As he was bent over pulling up the loose trousers, he heard the rustling of clothes behind him, and froze.

This was it.

Astarion tensed, straightening up. He crossed his clenched fists over his stomach where Tav couldn't see them.

This was it. This was always the moment when the ones who said they "just want to cuddle" suddenly changed their minds, shoved their hands down his breeches or into his hair, smothered his mouth with their own, then flipped him onto his back and pleasured themselves on his unresisting body.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to prolong the moment for one more second. One more second to pretend Tav wasn't going to grab his ass and thrust Their previously-gentle fingers –

Tav began to snore.

Astarion opened his eyes.

Turning around, he found Tav already asleep on the bedroll amidst the larger cushions, with the covers pulled up to Their chest.

This was it, he realized. This was really happening. He was going to sleep with Tav – no sweaty, noisy, transactional sex required – and no one would arrive halfway through the night to drag Them away, kicking and cursing his name.

And if Tav wasn't conscious to notice, maybe he could … yes. Yes, he would do it. Astarion stood tall, lifting his chin. He deserved it, for fuck's sake. After two hundred years, he was going to stop waiting and start taking what he was owed.

Astarion ripped the wax seal off the jar of goat's blood and downed it in one go, wiping his mouth on the already-red sleeve of his nightshirt.

He was going to get that all-night cuddle, and wake up next to a handsome virgin in the morning, godsdammit.

Astarion got down on all fours next to Tav. He wasn't sure how long he watched Them to make sure They were really asleep, but the lamp ran out of oil.

He started to lift the blanket on the near side of Tav, and then paused. What if They woke to find his groin pressed against Their side? Might They assume it was another attempt at seduction, when They had already declined him for the night? That wouldn't do, not when their relationship was in the fragile, pre-sex stage.

He reached up to snatch the "Goostarion" pillow from the table and put it between them.

Careful not to wake Them, Astarion wriggled into the space between Their arm and side and set his face against Their neck. The pulse of life was still there, as expected, but slower and deeper now in sleep.

Tucking his Tav-healed hands against his chest, Astarion went back in his mind to that stone cottage by the sea, with the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore like the beat of a strong heart.