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mumms-the-word · 19 days ago

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On the Run

Characters: Gale Dekarios x Tav (Dalia) Summary: In an Old West AU, Gale finds himself on the run from something or someone back East and lands himself in a saloon with the gorgeous singer (and possibly more than singer) Dalia. Someone is out to get him, but she has a plan. A/N: This is inspired by @orangekittyenergy's fanart of @magspeaches's Tav, Dalia for magspeaches's birthday!! The art was just too inspiring, so I tried my hand at a Western AU for Gale and Dalia. Happy birthday friend!! I hope you enjoy this little start to a Western adventure. Who knows where they go next! (I don’t haha this is just a oneshot sorryyyyy)

Every time Gale walked into the saloon at the center of this dusty town, there was always the same beautiful girl sitting atop the same bar, her stockinged legs crossed and her voice trilling out the words to whatever song the pianist nearby banged out on the out-of-tune piano in one corner. Somehow, despite the discordance of the instrument, she always seemed to round it out with her voice, so that the music they made together was not only pleasant to hear, but practically mesmerizing. It had caught his ear the first time he walked past the saloon his first day in town, and it had drawn him in like a siren song every day since.

She was stunning, whoever she was. Her blue skirts were hiked up and fastened at about the middle of her thighs, leaving her long, trim legs and delicate ankles visible for admiration. Today she had ornamented them with thin white stockings and lace-up boots, the tall heels slender and elegant. When she shifted, Gale could could see the hint of a black lace garter and the silver flash of a small revolver before she smoothed her hand over her skirt to cover them again, each movement natural and casual. She’d abandoned her white chemise from the day before to wear an embroidered maroon corset flush against her sunkissed skin, leaving her arms bare and the swell of her breasts a tantalizing treat with every breath she took to sing her next few notes. Even Gale, gentleman that he thought he was, couldn’t entirely tear his eyes away.

He still didn’t know her name, and he’d been here a week, skulking around town trying to figure out where to go or what to do next. He always wound up here eventually, claiming a chair at a back corner and watching as she sang or poured drinks or played cards with the other patrons.

Now, as he searched the room for an empty table, glancing periodically at her, he saw her turn her head toward him. Her gaze swept over the room as she began the next stanza of her song, but when her eyes landed on him, hovering near the door, they lingered. She smiled at him through her next few words before leaning back on one hand and turning her face away again, drawing out the last few notes.

It felt like an invitation. Grab at seat at the bar, why don’t you? Right here by me. But he didn’t dare.

He took a seat at an empty table instead, setting his hat on the surface and combing his hand through his dust-gritty hair. He’d spent more than a week in this town, bunking in an old hotel across the street, and despite his eastern city wardrobe and polished accent, he was starting to look like the locals. Sun-tanned, with a layer of dirt, and in need of a good shave.

But that was a good thing. The less he stood out, the less people knew about him out here, the better. If word got out back East…

Well, suffice to say there was a rather powerful entity back home that would be all too happy to send forces out West to drag him back. Better to lay low. If people believed he was here to settle in for a while or just passing through, then the wary glances would stop. He wasn’t the only man trying to travel West.

He was pretty certain he wasn’t the only man escaping trouble back East, either.

He glanced around for one of the serving girls, hoping to wave her over to place an order, but before he could say a word, the singer from the bar was in front of him, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two tumblers cradled in the other. She offered him a red-rouged smile.

“Care for a drink?” she asked, setting the bottle on the table.

Gale blinked at the bottle and then at her. “Oh, I—”

“First glass is on the house,” she added, setting the glasses down. She poured a measure of amber-colored liquid in both tumblers before sitting down across from him. He glanced beyond her at the bartender, but he was busy with other patrons and the other girls in the saloon were making their rounds with fresh pitchers of beer or trays of whiskey glasses.

When she noticed he didn’t immediately reach for the glass, she raised her eyebrows. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, no, of course not,” he said quickly. He lifted his glass in a toast to her and knocked the whole thing back in one burning swallow. He fought against a grimace—the whiskey out here had all the kick of an angry mule but none of the age or elegance of the whiskey back home. And there was always a strange aftertaste that suggested the barkeep added God-knew-what to it on the side. He set the glass back down with a slight clearing of his throat.

Her lips twitched at a smile, as if she found something about him funny, and she took her own glass in hand, swirling her whiskey idly. “I noticed you come here often these last few days. What’s your name, stranger?”

He thought about lying, but decided against it. He’d already made the mistake of giving his actual name at the hotel register. It was already known by a few others in the town as a result. “Gale Dekarios.”

She didn’t even bat an eye. “Fancy name.”

“So they tell me.” He put his arm on the table, inclining his head toward her. “And yours? May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

“You can call me Dalia, Mr. Dekarios. Pleasure’s all mine.” She shot him a quick wink and took a sip from her tumbler. He couldn’t help but notice the lip rouge mark left on the glass when she set it down again. “What brings you this far out west, Mr. Dekarios?”

“Hm? Oh.” He forced a smile and poured another shot of whiskey, trying not to linger over the mark on her glass or the red of her lips. “Nothing much. Just looking for…opportunity.”

Dalia chuckled and rested her chin in her hand, watching him with a knowing smirk. “You don’t walk this town like a man going after…opportunity.”

He paused with his glass halfway to his lips. “What do I look like to you, then?”

She tilted her head slightly, chin still in her palm, and let her eyes drag slowly down over his form, lingering around his collar, then the buttons of his shirt, then where his body disappeared beneath the surface of the table. She flicked her gaze back up to meet his and he was struck with the range of colors he saw there—steel gray mixed with a sprinkling of gold and a bloom of green, like stumbling upon a sudden vein of gold on a mountainside. The corner of her mouth twitched, as though she were amused.

“Like a man on the run.”

He tried to hold her gaze, but his mind was running a mile a minute now. What gave it away? His attire? His behavior? The way he spoke or acted? He’d seen his wanted poster—he’d grown a beard to help confuse anyone not looking too carefully. It seemed as though more was needed. He tapped his fingers against the side of his glass and finally set it down again, whiskey untouched.

“Whatever could I possibly be on the run from?” he asked, leaning his elbow on the table and raising his own eyebrows at her.

She pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair, idly twisting the two long curls that she’d left unpinned from the rest of her dark hair. As she wound the curls around her finger, she let her eyes sweep slowly around the room again before lingering on a table in the far corner. She indicated it with a little jerk of her head.

“I don’t know your story,” she said, “but something tells me they might.”

He followed her gaze to the distant table, squinting through the dusty afternoon light to see two men seated there. At first, nothing seemed all that remarkable about them…until one of them shifted and the light caught a little silver badge that he had pinned to his vest. An eight-pointed star.

Her mark.

Gale resisted the urge to sink down in his chair or hide his face beneath his hat. He’d hoped she would give up by now.

But he had something she wanted. Until she got it back she would hound him for days. Even with a few days’ head start, her men had already caught up with him.

But then again, they didn’t seem to notice him. Yet. There was still a chance.

Dalia turned back to look at him, interest sparkling in her eyes. “Should I introduce you?”

“No,” he said shortly. He glanced at the two men and away again. Dammit.

Dalia glanced over her shoulder at the men and then moved her chair a little to the left, blocking his view of the men—and their view of him. It brought her even closer to him at the table, so much so that he caught a whiff of the perfume she wore. This close, he noticed the little beauty marks on her face, one just above her mouth and the other on her cheek. They practically beckoned him closer for a kiss, and for a moment he was distracted by thoughts of pressing his lips tenderly, lovingly at each mark before taking her lips with his.

He blinked, hard, to banish the images.

“Seems like you’ll be leaving soon, Mr. Dekarios,” she said, seemingly unaware of his train of thought. She finished her glass of whiskey and then gave a theatrical sigh, setting the glass to the side. “A pity. The two of us haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Is that…something that interests you?”

“You interest me, Mr. Dekarios,” she said smoothly, taking his hand and setting his glass of whiskey in his palm. “You and those two bounty hunters in the corner.”

“Bounty hunters?” He scoffed. “That’s one way of thinking about them.”

She shrugged her bare shoulders with feigned nonchalance. “I don’t know what else they could be. The reward they’re offering seems pretty high.”

“A reward for what, exactly?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You, of course. Curious thing, though…they’re real keen on bringing you back alive. I wonder why that is…”

“Ah…fantastic.” He was about to take a drink again when a thought occurred to him. He set the glass down again, looking suspiciously at Dalia. “If the reward’s so high, why haven’t you turned me in?”

“Why, Mr. Dekarios.” She smiled sweetly at him. “I barely know you. Who am I to decide a man’s fate before I even know his name?”

“Is that what this is?” he asked, gesturing to the whiskey between them. “A test to see whether I deserved to be handcuffed and dragged away?”

“Are you always this suspicious of people?” she asked, but the tilt of her head and the glint in her eye suggested she found the whole conversation entertaining, rather than annoying. “Don’t you worry. I don’t plan on blowing your cover anytime soon. In fact, I have a bit of a business proposition for you.”

His eyebrows drew together. “A business proposition?”

She pressed a finger into his chest, drawing his gaze downward. “You need to get out of town, don’t you?” she asked. She dragged her finger slowly up his chest, up the column of his throat and to the tip of his chin, raising his face slightly so he would look at her. “And I can make that happen, on one condition.”

“Just the one?” he asked warily. He knew firsthand the consequences of taking a deal before you knew the full terms. It was part of what got him in this mess in the first place. “What is it?”

“You take me with you.”

He blinked, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

She leaned back in her chair, suddenly cool and aloof. “Not interested?” She shrugged and started to rise. “Then I can just—”

He grabbed her hand hurriedly. “Wait, wait, hold on, settle down.” He gestured for her to sit again, glancing anxiously at the bounty hunters in the corner. They didn’t seem to notice them. Dalia settled back in her chair, deftly removing her hand from his but watching him silently. He leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Why do you want to leave?”

She snorted. “Why shouldn’t I? D’you think I want to spend my life serving drinks and singing the same six songs? The pay isn’t bad but this isn’t living. Not the way I want to live.”

Her voice suddenly became soft and thoughtful toward the end, her gaze shifting to stare out the nearest window. He could guess what she saw through those dusty panes. An open sky that stretched on farther than the eye could see, blue and cloudless and bright. An open expanse of land that changed by the day as you traversed across is, from gritty sand and rock to hard-scrabble brush, from hardy, stubborn trees to the sudden, breath-taking rise of a mountain range, snow-capped and standing sentry-like in the distance, like a gateway to paradise. You could walk or ride for miles out here without seeing a single soul. Just you, your horse, and the wildlife that called these plains, deserts, and prairies home.

It was freedom. Illusive freedom, a siren song of its own, but better than the chains that weighed them down where they were now. Gale wasn’t very good at carving out an existence outside of a settled town, but Dalia…she struck him as a resourceful type. Longing for the finer things in life, but not afraid to get her hands dirty, so to speak.

Gale had the sudden impulse to reach for her hand again, but he stopped himself. “I can understand that,” he said quietly. “But what’s keeping you here now? Why wait for me to leave?”

She shot him a wary look. “That’s my business.” And then, after a second, she relented and added, “I’m waiting for someone.”

He arched an eyebrow. “A lover? Husband?” He paused. “Ex-husband?”

She scoffed. “A friend. She and her partner are out on a job right now. Once they’re back, we’re packing up and heading out. I don’t have any plans to stay here.” She plucked his untouched glass of whiskey from the table and took a long sip, eyeing him over the glass. Then she smiled sweetly again, tilting her head coquettishly. “Do you?”

His mouth was suddenly dry, but she was keeping his glass hostage in her manicured hand. He licked his lips, trying to remain as subtle as possible. “Is that an invitation, Miss Dalia?”

“Could be.” She dabbed delicately at the corner of her mouth, letting her finger drag slowly along her bottom lip. He followed the motion with his eyes, enraptured. Her next smile was like honey, enticing him to draw closer to what he knew must be an inevitable trap. “Interested?”

Oh, he was very interested, but his interests were in a bit of a tangle just now. “I’d…have to think about it.”

“I’d think a little more quickly if I were you, Mr. Dekarios.” She set the glass down and folded her arms on top of the table, leaning forward to study him. The posture pressed her corset up and into her chest, the swells of her breasts nearly spilling out over the top of the embroidered fabric. Suddenly it was all Gale could see. “That beard and long hair’s not going to fool those two for much longer. I’ve already heard them asking questions. The clock’s ticking.”

Gale tore his gaze away from her breasts to look her in the face. “What exactly are you offering, Miss Dalia? And what, exactly, is the cost?”

She sat up straight in her chair, suddenly all business. “You want to go farther out west? We can take you. You want to disappear? We can make it happen. In exchange, all we’re asking is a reasonable cut of that cash you got on you. Call it a small fee for our services.” She smirked faintly. “And don’t lie to me about the cash. I’ve seen how much you carry. You can easily afford us.”

Gale frowned. “Why do I get the sense that your definition of ‘disappear’ and mine are different? What’s to stop you from robbing me blind and leaving me for dead the moment we’re out eyesight of town?”

She lifted her eyebrows a fraction. “You don’t trust us?”

“Would you, if you were in my shoes?”

The question seemed to amuse her. She twisted one of her curls again, putting on a thoughtful expression. “You want to take your chances with those bounty hunters instead? I could bring them over.”

“No, no thank you,” he said quickly. He sighed. He was running out of options. The noose he’d flung around his neck the moment he escaped out West was starting to tighten around his throat. Dalia was handing him a knife to cut himself free…but who was to say she wouldn’t use that same knife to stab him in the back? Metaphorically, of course. Or perhaps literally.

She tilted her head again, watching him thinking, and then leaned forward again, lowering her voice. “Tell you what. I’ll arrange for you to meet my associates in two days. My friend and her partner. We can negotiate a deal with them. Something that satisfies all parties.”

“And in the meantime?” he asked. “Am I supposed to hide in my room? Camp outside of town and hope those two don’t come looking for me?”

The flicker of a smile on her lips told him she wouldn’t give him a straight answer. She took up his tumbler again, studying the last swallow of amber liquid in the glass, holding it up to the light. “Something tells me you’re a smart man, Mr. Dekarios. You’ll figure something out. And if not…” She toasted him with the glass. “You know where to find me.”

He watched her knock back the rest of the whiskey and set the glass down with a satisfied clack. Like she’d already closed the deal. “Why are you helping me?”

She gave the question some thought, her expression playful and coy. After a second, she refilled his glass, the one she had taken from him because hers had been empty, and set it down in front of him, leaning over the table, her fingers on the rim of the tumbler.

“Because I like you, Mr. Dekarios,” she whispered. With a swift, practiced twist of her wrist, she turned the glass clockwise on the table until the red-tinged mark left over from her lips faced Gale. She left the glass there and stood. “Don’t let it go to waste.”

And then she was gone, sauntering back to the bar and disappearing into a back room, out of Gale’s sight. He stared down at the tumbler on the table, his eyes on that curve of red lip rouge, a lush half-moon broken by little lines and cracks. The shape of her bottom lip, temporarily branded into the clear glass, as unique as a fingerprint. Hers and no other.

After a moment, he raised the glass to his mouth, lining his lips with the mark, and savored the whiskey as it burned down his throat.

#i love writing gifts for peoples #i hope you love it!!#i've never done a western or old west anything so I was going off vibes alone #and orangekittyenergy's amazing art #WHICH YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT #happy birthday mags!!#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #old west au #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #my fic #other tavs #dalia

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