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Ziri wakes with a gasp. Cold sweat beads on his brow, his heart racing. He pats down his own face, searching for tentacles, but only feels the shape of his lips and chin. Reaches up to touch the base of his horns and then sits up, twisting around for his tail. Oh, thank gods. It's still there.
Normal. Everything is fine.
It takes Ziri a moment to realize he's safe. He's in Gale's tent, surrounded by the scent of dried lavender and old books.
Relief turns his limbs into jelly. Ziri lets out the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders slumping.
It must have been a nightmare. He'd dreamed he'd been turning into an illthid—that they had been too late to find a cure. He'd dreamed of his teeth falling out, his jaw breaking, tentacles pouring down to his chest.
Ziri cringes at the image.
Gale snuffles in his sleep. Ziri turns to see him sleeping soundly on his back, face relaxed, eyelashes casting thin shadows upon his cheeks.
Ziri's stomach flip flops. He scoots closer and gently shakes him awake. "Gale. Gale! Wake up."
"Ugh ... " He blinks his eyes open. "Mm? What is it?"
"Would you still love me if I was a squid?"
Gale squints. "What?"
"If we can't get these tadpoles out of our heads," Ziri says, "and I turn into an illithid, would you still love me?"
"Of course I would."
"No, you wouldn't. I'd be cold and gray and slimy."
"Purple."
"What?"
"Most illithids are purple." A loud yawn. "I like purple."
"All right, fine. But I'd still be cold and slimy."
"And mauve," he says, carrying on like he hasn't heard him. "They can be mauve, purple or ... hmm ... I suppose a garyish-purple."
"I'd be moist," Ziri continues. "Do you hear me? Moist. A moist, purple squid getting his moisture all over your precious books."
"I'd get a mop." Gale snorts with his eyes closed, like it's funny. "Cast cantrip for the books."
"I'd be rubbery, too." He pokes him in the shoulder for emphasis. "And I'd probably want to eat your brain."
"I don't blame you. My brain would be delicious. Full of arcane knowledge."
"You can't possibly love a guy who would want to eat your brain."
"Yes, I can. I trust you not to eat my brain."
"I'd have tentacles for a mouth."
"I'd kiss you anyway."
"How?"
Gale turns his head. His brown hair is fanned over the pillow, shot with threads of silver. He beams at him, laden with exhaustion, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Then, he brings his hand under his chin and wiggles his fingers around.
"Like that," he says.
"... What was that supposed to mean?" Ziri says.
"That's how I'd do it."
"That doesn't explain anything," he says, but Gale's eyelids start to droop again.
"You don't know ... half of what ... I'm into ..." He starts to snore. "Mm ... pleasure domes ..."
An agonizing pause. Ziri stares down at him, watching Gale's chest move up and down with each steady breath, snoring peacefully.
Ziri shakes him by the shoulders.
Gale startles. "—Wha ..."
"Tell me about the pleasure domes."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The pleasure domes, Gale!"
He blinks up at him, doe eyes wide. "How do you know about that?"
"You were talking about it in your sleep—after you said you'd still want to kiss me, even if I had tentacles."
Gale snorts. He wraps his arm around Ziri's back and hauls him down into the bedroll with him, squeezing him tight. "I would still kiss you with tentacles."
"That doesn't answer my other question," he says, his voice muffled, cheek squished against Gale's collarbone.
"Answer me this first. Why are you waking me in the middle of the night about whether or not I'd still love you if you undertook ceremorphosis?"
Ziri worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "I had a nightmare." It embarrasses him, admitting it out loud. Former Chosen of Bhaal, terrified of a dream. He cheeks flush. "It's stupid."
Gale softens. He smooths his hand up and down Ziri's spine, and Ziri releases a long exhale, his muscles unwinding.
"You're not going to turn into an illithid," he promises. "But even if you did, I assure you, my devotion and affection would remain stubbornly intact. I would cherish you. Purple, tentacles, moisture and all."
"What about the brains thing?"
"Oh, I'm sure we can find a certain demographic. Cognitive effort, for some people, is rarely utilized anyway."
"Gale Dekarios," Ziri says, letting himself tip back onto his chest. "Are you telling me you would feed me idiots?"
A rumbling laugh. "Well—"
Ziri narrows his eyes without any heat. He buries his face into the crook of Gale's neck and shoulder, and nips him gently in revenge. Barely. Softly. The smallest scrape of his teeth. He refuses to be violent—not with him. Never with him.
Gale's breath stutters a little, a half moan, half laugh. Ziri soothes the spot with lazy, languid kisses, delighted when Gale presses his neck more insistently against his mouth.
"How dare you," Ziri murmurs.
"Fine! I'd feed you, um. Lorroakan."
A burst of shocked laughter. "Too late. Aylin already trampled him."
"Wizards like him, then."
"Mmm ... fine. I suppose I'll allow it. We don't need those wizards anyway."
"My point exactly."
Ziri chuckles, and Gale's head lolls to the side, eyes drifting shut. "There'd be some, ah—practicalities we'd have to figure out ... and we'd have to find a very, very open minded cleric ..."
"A cleric?" Ziri laughs. "You'd marry a squid?"
"I'd marry you."
"Wait." He sits up a little straighter. "You'd marry me?"
Gale peers up at him, eyes molten and amber, that kind, sleepy smile on his face. "Of course I would."
"You're not thinking clearly," Ziri says, his throat suddenly a little tight. "Your brain is all sleepy."
"My mind, I assure you, is quite clear." Gale boops him on the nose. Boops him—a Bhaalspawn—and gazes up at him, his expression rapt with so much trust. "And I am not so fickle as to make such bold declarations without intending them. I assure you, I am perfectly capable of forming my own conclusions. I want to marry you someday, even if you were a squid." He tilts his head. "Unless, of course ..." he adds, a note of vulnerability in his voice, "you don't wish to marry me?"
Ziri's heart feels too big for his chest. Of course he wants to marry him. Gale is just so—so good—all brown eyes, and magic, and ... and gentleness. He's never known anyone else like him. It makes him scared and hopeful all at once. Scared of losing him, of Bhaal taking over his mind and forcing Ziri to put a knife to his throat. The same way Bhaal forced him to gut his own foster mother, to draw Gortash's blood in the throes of passion. Bhaal's conditioned him to be devoted solely to him by forcing Ziri to hurt anyone he's ever cared about.
They're drawing closer to finding the Bhaal Temple every day. A small part of Ziri knows that even if he finds it, he may not come out alive. There would be consequences for defying Bhaal. There always was. But maybe now, just for now, he can ... hope. Indulge in this dream for a better life.
"Of course I would marry you," he says, and Ziri feels his heart thudding against his ribs. Not from fear but from a thrill—a thrill of being loved and loving someone back, of diving into it headfirst. "I would. I would marry you. If you asked."
"Hmm." Gale grins, his eyes glittering. "Good." He pats him on the back. "Noted."
"I—" Ziri blinks, the spell broken. "Wait, what? Aren't you going to ask?"
"I am," he says, "but not yet. For now, it is noted ... for sometime in the very near future."
He groans. "And you call me a tease."
Gale laughs. Ziri grumbles incoherently, and Gale winds his hand around the back of his head, pulling him down to his chest. "For now you need to sleep," he murmurs, and Ziri sighs, a heavy weight rolling off of his shoulders. Warmth and exhaustion drape around him, gauzy and silken, like being cradled in Gale's Featherfall.
Ziri sinks further into him. He feels the thrum of the orb wooshing against his ear, and somewhere, Gale's heartbeat underneath it, steady and strong. His tail vines around his leg, subconsciously drawing closer, and Gale lets out a soft, pleased little hum. Ziri adores the feeling of him underneath him. Adores his soft stomach, his warm hand at his back, his voice in his ear.
Gale hooks his chin over the top of Ziri's head between his horns, his fingertips playing with the hair at the back of his neck. The combination of it all finally makes Ziri start to drift off.
Then, "What if I was a worm?"
Gale throws his head back and groans.