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So they’re finally making some progress towards the Gate, when suddenly there’s this big fuck-off mountain in the way. Big and covered in white, which is funny, because the road so far has been all green and pretty. Maybe it’s magic snow or something. In any case, it’s a real pain in the arse to cross. Karlach doesn’t comment when she notices the others using her footprints in the snow. She just grins.
A bit behind her, she hears Astarion let out a groan. “I am going to find whoever charted your map,” he’s telling Wyll, “and impale them on their own quill.”
Karlach laughs. “Come on, Fangs, it’s just a day’s walk.”
“For you, maybe,” he calls back. “Does that offer of carrying me still stand?”
“‘Course! Long as we can take turns!”
“Ha! No.”
She chuckles at that. But a frown creeps in at Wyll’s words. “Are you alright, Astarion?” Wyll asks.
Karlach turns to see that the party has stopped, and all eyes are on the elf, who, if possible, looks even paler than usual. And seems to be shaking slightly. Weird, considering the whole un-dead thing.
Astarion huffs. “Oh, I’m perfectly fine, considering the conditions. You know, the bloody freezing mountain.”
“Perhaps we ought to make camp,” Gale suggests.
But Astarion just groans in response. “Darling, the last thing I— the last thing we need is to spend more time frolicking in the snow.”
But Wyll crosses his arms. “Sky’s getting dark,” he observes. “Gale’s right. We might as well make camp now.”
So they clear enough snow to pitch their tents. Gale pops off a Firebolt, and bam, they have a fire.
Karlach sets her pack down with a groan, stretching out her shoulders. She’s about to flop down when she notices a figure lingering by the campfire. Skinny, pale…
“You sure you’re alright there, Fangs?”
Astarion pulls back from the flames nonchalantly. “I’m sure,” he retorts. His usual standoffish tone is laced with a bit of a bite, this time. “Honestly, I don’t know why you all are so set on making a fuss.”
Karlach plops down at the fire, patting the bedroll next to her. “Deal with it,” she tells him.
Astarion huffs for what’s probably the hundredth time today. “I suppose you do provide enough warmth for the two of us,” he mutters. But as he sits down next to her and her radiating, uncontrollable heat, his expression shifts. Less strained, less stiff. His shoulders relax, their slight quiver halting.
“Damn, you really were freezing, huh?”
“No need to rub it in, darling.”
“Not gonna lose any limbs to the cold, are you?”
“I highly doubt it.”
Still, she holds a hand out towards him, and, after a moment of consideration, he places his own in it. Even with the power of her hellish heat, it sends a bit of a shiver through her system. “Woof! Your hands are cold as fuck!”
He scoffs. “Well, you don’t have to tell me that.”
She’s aware of how small his hand feels in hers, of how light it rests against her palm. So she’s as gentle as she can be as she places her other hand on top of his. It’s nice, getting to be gentle. It’s not something she gets to do too often.
And, his eyes on their clasped hands…Astarion smiles, just slightly. Oh. That’s real nice, too. What a trooper, she thinks. Deserves a little warmth more than anyone. She’d give hers to him, if she could. But this’ll have to do.
“Stop that,” he suddenly says, meeting her gaze.
“Huh?”
“You’re grinning like an idiot. You’re going to make people think that we actually like each other.”
“Well, cry about it, then. I do like you.”
Astarion’s response is too quick. “Oh, I know,” he says, the smile spreading further on his pointy-little face. It’s one of those ones. Fuck off.
She snorts. “Sure you do. I’m not fucking around here. I like you. You got real friends here, you know?”
The smile falls, as do his eyes. Finally, he repeats, “I know.”
“Good.” She sighs. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be an arsehole about it. It just feels like sometimes you don’t really believe it.”
He frowns.
But, after a moment, he lightly places his other hand on top of hers.
“Karlach. Wake up.”
“Mm. Mh-hm.”
“Karlach, it’s a bloody blizzard out here!”
“Huh?” Her eyes flutter open. She was just resting them, she’d thought, but now it’s far darker than before, and the winds are blowing harder than the Hells, and Astarion is shaking like a leaf—
“Shit! Sorry!”
“It’s fine,” he mutters. “Perhaps we ought to relocate?”
“Yeah, ‘course.” As she stands, she goes to drop their hands, but he keeps hold of hers. Right. It’s fucking cold, especially for him. “Guess it’s tent time?” She nods towards her own, assuming they’re going to split up.
Astarion scoffs. “Darling, I think even you might freeze to death in that sorry excuse for shelter.”
“Ouch! I worked hard to make it my own, you know?”
“Yes, yes, very twee and all. However, my tent actually has four walls. Shall we?” He pauses, and slips into that grin again. “Unless you’re scandalized by that sort of thing?”
Karlach chuckles. “Yeah, you wish.”
There’s not a lot of space in the tent, but it’s just enough for the two of them to lie on their sides. Astarion has apparently been collecting blankets — though where he keeps them all when travelling, she hasn’t the foggiest idea.
Karlach is trying to figure out where exactly to put her tail when Astarion suddenly rolls into her. His forehead is so close to her chest that she wonders if he can hear the whir of her engine. He places an arm around her, cool fingers growing slowly warm against her skin. “Is this—” he clears his throat. “Is this alright?”
She smiles. “Yeah. It’s good.” The hell-heat suddenly seems to be gathering in her cheeks, for some reason. “Not sure if you can trance like that, though?”
“Don’t need to. This is restful enough.”
She feels her smile growing wider. “You sure do know how to make a lady feel special, Astarion.”
“No, dear. That’s all you.” It’s said in a sort of way that makes her hesitate. Sounds odd. Why?
His tone has lost some of its usual frills, she thinks.
Oh. Damn. He believes it.
Hells, that feels good.
She doesn’t carry Astarion down the mountain, but he holds her hand the rest of the way. Might be a trick of the light, but she swears that once or twice, she almost sees a bit of colour in his cheeks.