Chapter Text
Bang.
Bang-dum-dum-bang.
Eyes opened slowly, blurry in the bright sunlight streaming in through the uncovered windows. Astarion blinked, his eyelashes sticking together with crud that seeped out during his sleep.
Bang-bang-dum-dum-bang.
The sound of someone pounding on his door finally registered in the haze that was his hungover brain. He looked around at his apartment - disappointed that it was as bad as it had been last night - and realized he was in the living room. Naked.
He sighed, looking around, and found a pair of pants that couldn't quite stand up on their own. He shimmied into them, ignoring the fact that they were loose as he zipped them up, the pounding in his head stealing most of his thoughts.
BANG BANG BANG
"Astarion, if you don't open this door, I swear to GOD I-"
He opened the door, running a hand through his hair, shifting his mussed curls mostly into place.
"You'll what? Wake me up at some ungodly hour again?" He drawled, turning away from the glowering giant woman in his doorway, looking for a shirt.
"It's 8:17 am. We've got-"
"I know. I know. Ah!" He found his work shirt - a maroon t-shirt brightly emblazoned with the hospital's logo in stark white - under a couch pillow. He shook it out, ignored the millions of wrinkles and the scent of a thrice-worn garment, and tossed it on. "I'll be ready in 5. Try not to break anything."
"Like you'd even notice in this pigsty. That takeout container has been on your counter for six days. Six days, Astarion!"
He ignored Karlach's continued stream of admonishments regarding the lack of hygiene in his living space while he made a vague attempt to be decent. Brushed his teeth, wiped the sleep from his eyes, swiped on some deodorant, and then a spritz of a vanilla body spray to try and blend away the dirty clothes and lack of showering.
Most of their clientele barely noticed he was a person and not a robot, so it scarcely mattered. Besides, what was even the point? He stared at himself in the garish light of the bathroom, noting the circles under his eyes, the tiny wrinkles that had started to form in the corners, the roughness of his skin. He might have been a beauty, once, but those days were gone.
His mouth twisted in an ugly way as he remembered his thirty-fifth birthday was next week.
Karlach was quietly fuming, arms crossed, as he walked back into the living room. She shoved a cup of coffee at him, which he took, sniffed, and then rolled his eyes. He grabbed a mostly empty bottle of whisky off the counter, popped the lid off the coffee, and topped it off.
She stared at him with flat eyes. "Really? Not even hiding it anymore?"
"What's the point?" He took a long swallow, knowing his stomach would settle shortly. "Hungover, drunk, doesn't make much difference. I'm mostly just a warm body there anyway. Shall we?"
He grabbed his wallet and keys, sticking them in his pocket, and then slipped a pack of cigarettes into the other one. Finally, he slipped on his gloves, shawl, and grabbed his parasol.
"You've really gotta cut back on this stuff, mate. It's gonna kill you."
He stopped to lock the door, took another swig of the coffee. "You seem to be under the impression that such a fate would be a deterrent, darling."
He leaned back against the side of the bus, feeling the buzz of the last draw of his cigarette hit. The end was burned down so far his fingers hurt, but the pain was grounding, just like the prickling of sunlight on his face and arms. Kept all the things swirling inside him at bay, like the fact that he had just seen Cazador's fucking Benz - the Benz that had been his 25th birthday present - shoot down the road with that idiot Petras at the wheel.
He breathed out, blowing a plume of smoke, and dropped the butt on the ground, twisting it out with a practiced move of his boot. He wasn't going to let the existence of that fucking Great Value Brand version of himself get under his skin. Not while he was at work, anyhow.
"Astarion!"
Karlach's voice rang out from the bus as he walked back around. He hopped up the steps, stopping to wash his hands at the little sink. "Yes? You rang?"
"We've got an appointment in five. Just wanted to make sure you were back."
He raised an eyebrow. Appointments were rare. Usually, they just pulled up the bus to the location of the day, and waited for people to walk up. Most people don't bother with scheduling blood donations.
"It's your favorite regular." She whistled suggestively.
He rolled his eyes. Here she went again. "That boy is too young for me. Besides, he's got a bright future in front of him. I'm sure he's looking for someone a bit more… on his level."
"He's asked you out almost a dozen times. And he's twenty-six, for the record. Not a kid. All I'm saying-"
"Is that you are, for some reason, obsessed with a relationship that exists only in your fevered mind, Karlach. Honestly, I can't fathom sometimes what your thoughts must be like."
"Awww, come off it, Fangs. I know you're sweet on him, even if you've turned into a bitter hag as of late."
He rolled his eyes at the nickname. She only got away with it because, well, because it was hard to stay mad at someone like Karlach for long. She was far too good a friend to him.
"Yes, well, this bitter old hag has to get his station set up for the noble Mr. Ravengard's donation." He dismissed her with a flippy wrist, heading back to put all the necesseties on his tray and to get the apharesis machine ready. Not many donors came to them for plasma donation, since they could get paid for it at the big centers, so they rarely had it running unless someone had an appointment.
Wyll had a rare blood subtype that was used to make a medication that saved newborns with certain issues. So, of course, the ridiculous white knight that he was, he'd been donating every six weeks like clockwork since he found out after his first donation of blood at eighteen.
"Wyll! How are you?" He heard Karlach's booming voice ring out, just in time for the green lights on the machine to tell him it was ready to go. "Let's get you checked in and weighed."
Astarion tried not to feel nervous, suddenly wishing he'd bothered to shower. Or put on clean clothes. Or hadn't smoked on his break.
He growled at himself. Why in the hell was he nervous? It would be better this way. Wyll will see exactly what he is - a complete and utter fuckup - and steer clear. Far less annoying than having to turn him down again.
Wyll walked down the aisle of the bus, smiling like it was the best day ever. Like he always did, every single time Astarion saw him. That handsome smile, with those kissable-looking lips and sparkling white teeth, lit up a face that could easily be a model. Aristocratic bone structure, lit-from-within chocolate skin, and a sparkling eye with an iris so dark it was almost black. Even his one flaw, the scarred eye socket with the obviously false eye with its pale iris, only served to make him even hotter.
Astarion couldn't take his eyes off him, no matter what he told himself or anyone else.
"And how's my favorite vampire?" Wyll's silky, charming voice made him grin like an idiot.
He laughed at the old joke, and it wasn't even fake. "Here. Awake, despite the daylight. Ready to suck your blood. Into the machine, that is. But first, well, you know the drill."
Ravengard sat down in the padded chair. Plasma donation took almost an hour, so there was a slightly nicer chair reserved for it. Wyll began rolling up his shirt sleeve while Astarion put on a pair of gloves and tore open the alcohol wipes to prep. He tried not to stare at the gorgeous, muscular forearm put on display too openly.
Once Wyll settled his arm, he got to work. Found the vein quickly, the man was as easy to draw from as he was to look at, and prepped the site.
"Just two vials to test - well, you know. Sorry, used to the whole song and dance." He pattered on as he slipped the needle in. He might be a wreck and a drunk, but he was very, very good at his job. Never took him more than one try to stick someone, and most claimed he made it painless. He clicked the test tube onto the end, watching it fill up with the rich crimson liquid quickly, then repeated it with the second vial.
"I thought I might mention that there's an open spot in my boxing class." Wyll said quietly, while Astarion was labelling the test tubes. "In case you'd changed your mind about trying it out."
"Never been much of a boxer, honestly. Now, darling, it's time for the big show. You remember the rules, right?"
Wyll grinned. "No crossing my legs, keep my arm still, and tell you if I start shivering?'
"Perfection. If only every donor was like you, my life would be significantly easier." He clicked on a prepared bit of saline and anticoagulant to the needle. "First, a quick flush, and then we'll start the machine."
Wyll nodded, used to the procedure. It only took a minute to ensure the line was clear and would stay that way long enough, and then the tubing for the machine clicked on. The centrifuge was loud, but in a soothing way. The downside of all this is that without any other donors coming in, there was no reason for Astarion to avoid his patient.
"So, any exciting plans for you?" He asked, trying to fill the space before Wyll asked him anything.
Wyll hummed. "My dad's re-election campaign is starting up, so I'll probably have to go to some speeches and dinners. Other than that, not really. My life is pretty quiet these days. Mostly just my work at the gym and gardening."
"Gardening?"
"My mom loved roses. I've been trying to bring the rose garden she planted back to life. They are finicky plants, you know. Despite the thorns, they are actually quite sensitive. Require just the right condition and care to thrive. But they can survive almost anything."
Astarion tried not to notice the sad look in his eyes. Wyll Ravengard looking happy was hard to resist. Wyll Ravengard looking sad made him want to tear out his own heart and serve it on a platter to the man. It was truly unfair how utterly, absurdly breathtaking the man was.
"Well, I'll keep that in mind. If I ever, you know, have a garden. Not exactly the outdoor type, though."
Wyll bit his lip. "Oh! I'm sorry. I know - you can't exactly spend too much time in the sun with the albinism."
Astarion scoffed. "I'm not offended, darling. I don't exactly go around screaming about it. Plus, I look fabulous holding a parasol."
A throaty little laugh, unfairly charming, broke the tension. "Indeed, I have never seen another as perfectly suited to one."
Astarion hummed, turning his head so Wyll wouldn't see him blush. It was unfair how easily his skin made it obvious. Instead of responding, he busied himself cleaning up. Tidying up wrappers and gauze. When he'd composed himself once more, he walked to the small fridge that wasn't for samples, and grabbed one of the tiny containers of generic sports drink. Blue. Wyll didn't much care for the yellow or orange, he remembered.
He held it up to his patient, who nodded. Astarion twisted the lid off, handing the bottle to Wyll's left arm. "Make sure you drink all you can. Don't want you passing out after this."
"Ah, well, then maybe someone would have to catch me."
"Oh, I'm sure Mama K's up for the challenge. You know she's trying to join the fire department again. It would make her day to be able to rescue someone."
Wyll swallowed down some of the drink, curiosity lighting up his eye. "Really? I can't see why she wouldn't get in. She's clearly buff enough."
Astarion laughed. "Oh, she passes the physical with top marks every year. It's the written exam that gets her. She's very intelligent, but not precisely in the bookish way."
Wyll frowned. "Does she need a tutor? I bet I could help find someone."
"Are you trying to steal my work bestie?" Astarion laughed.
"No. But, well, not to put a fine point on it, but getting more women and minorities into first responder roles is an agenda item on my father's campaign."
Astarion stiffened. Right. Wyll's father. The Governor. It was so easy to forget who he was talking to during these little moments.
"Well, he must be very proud of you. Doing his work for him like this." He turned away, grabbing the logbook. He could catch up on paperwork while the apharesis machine finished centrifuging Wyll's blood.
Wyll leaned back, closing his eyes. "You'd think. I'm actually quite the disappointment, it seems. Wasting my life away helping people instead of running for office. Not to mention the whole fact of being bisexual and refusing to lie about it. People think being the Governor's son is some kind of lucky blessing, but mostly it's exhausting."
Astarion huffed, checking off the tasks that were already done for the day. "I thought your father was on the correct side of that divide. I mean, that's why I voted for him."
"He is. In theory. When it comes to people who aren't his son." Wyll sighed. "When it comes to me, however, I get long lectures about the need to perpetuate the Ravengard name and how people in politics need to be accessible to the average voter."
"Ah. My father cut contact with me over… well, to be honest, it was a long list. But being fabulous was near the top. Along with a wide variety of my other faults."
"I thought he cut you off over setting his house on fire." Wyll grinned. "Assuming that podcast was telling the truth."
"Yeeeesss, but the fire was an accident when I fell asleep with a lit cigarette after one hell of a night. The sex that preceded it was quite deliberate, and I'd rather have my tragic backstory be by choice."
Wyll erupted in laughter so hard he almost dislodged the tubing from his arm.
"Darling, get yourself under control or there's going to be blood everywhere." Astarion admonished while he checked the tubing. "And I'm not an actual vampire, so it will be more of a biohazard situation than a good time."
"Well, I'd hate to give you something other than a good time. I know you aren't interested in boxing, but-"
"Walk-in coming through!" Karlach's voice boomed out.
Astarion could have kissed her for the timely interruption. "Sorry to cut this short - I'll be back to unhook you in a few minutes. Duty calls and all that."
Karlach was dancing to nothing. When they first started working together, Astarion used to think she must have earbuds or something he just couldn't see, but no. Given a lack of activity, Karlach just…. spontaneously danced. At this point, it was just part of what he came to expect from the woman who had one day latched onto him and decided to be his best friend.
He didn't deserve her. He wasn't sure that anyone could, but he actively had no idea what she got in return from their relationship.
He stared at the sky, namely, the sun which still lingered in it. After falling asleep in front of the window last night, he already had pink patches that would probably peel and flake over the next days. As much as he hated the stares it would bring, he sighed loudly and opened his parasol.
"Heya Fangs. You did make sure all the cabinets were restocked back there, right? Only Old Blah-blah sent me a nastygram after our last shift because the tubing wasn't restocked."
He rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname. Karlach always had to give everyone a nickname.
"Yes, darling, I restocked everything. There's nothing for Araj to complain about." He clicked his tongue. "She still will, but not because of anything I did or didn't do."
"Is she still trying to get in your pants?"
"At least once a week. Despite my utter lack of interest. The woman clearly does not understand that desperation is a stink that is hard to wash away."
He was thankful that Karlach didn't make a statement about his own stink, which he was fairly certain was reaching uncomfortable levels in their small workspace. He really needed to force himself to shower tonight. Maybe wash some clothes.
"Soooooo, did the Blade ask you out again? I tried to listen, but we kept getting phone calls."
"The Blade?"
"I'm trying it out. He used to be a swordfighter, right?"
"A fencer."
"Same difference."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I promise you, it is not."
"Anyways, are you two gonna hook up or not?"
"He graciously invited me to his boxing class. I graciously declined." He sighed. "Are you driving back to the barn or am I?"
"Have you drunk anything else after your coffee?" She eyed him, like she could read his blood alcohol with her gaze.
"I've been here all day, Karlach. I'm stone sober at this point. You want me to drive?"
"I'm gonna change on the way. I got invited to that club where it rains on the dance floor. VIP access." She said it as she tossed him the keys and walked through the curtain between the driver's seat and the bus.
"Visage?" His voice rose in pitch, involuntarily. It was where he had been planning to have his fifteenth wedding anniversary. Not that Karlach would have known that. He started up the engine, the roar of it echoing the scream he wanted to let out.
"Yeah! That's the name. Weird word."
"It means 'a face you present to the world.' You should work on your vocabulary, Fire Girl. Speaking of which, Wyll and I talked about you. He said he wants to get you a tutor. Help you finally pass that exam."
He heard the sounds of her fighting with her clothes as he got the bus moving forward, carefully steering through the tight turns of the parking lot.
"Why the fuck would he want to do that?"
Astarion laughed. "He wants to show off for Daddy. Why else?"
There wasn't a response from behind him as he navigated the lovely rush hour traffic, other than occasional swears he assumed were the result of his bestie trying to do her signature double eyeliner look in a moving vehicle. Or it could have been the leather pants she always wore to every club she went to.
He was lost in his own thoughts, anyhow.
The bus was almost in its parking spot, tucked behind the incineration unit, when Karlach opened the curtain. Astarion pulled the huge gear shift arm into place and pulled the key out before turning around.
"So, what do you think?" Karlach spun around, a shifting, insecure look on her face.
He tilted his head. "I think that whoever you are taking out tonight is likely the luckiest soul on the planet."
"Flatterer."
"You know I don't call you Fire Girl because of your career aspirations, darling." He sighed. Karlach truly was the most attractive woman he'd ever met, in his totally correct opinion.
"Then get lucky, bastard, and come with me." Karlach stopped, stared, and almost twitched. "Uhhhh… that came out all wrong."
Astarion was already gleefully laughing. "No, I think it was perfect. Very much exactly the little boost I needed. Go on, then, I'll see you tomorrow."