Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lambert padded softly through the dusty safehouse, reluctant to disturb the heavy layer of silence that had settled over the place.

It was obvious that no one had used it in several years. Made sense, really; Lambert had preferred to be farther south in the summer, and winters were spent at Kaer Morhen. Aiden had been the one who preferred to use this safehouse, saying that “it means I can meet up with you earlier in the year, Lam, who cares about the cold!”

Lambert hadn’t been back since Aiden had died.

But he was here now, looking for some piece of shit armor Eskel had asked about, because he had fucking forgotten how much of Aiden’s shit was still here. Everywhere Lambert turned, another memory of the Cat slapped him across the face and he was getting real fucking sick of it.

The throwing dagger Lambert had given him one year for Beltane sparked the memory of Aiden’s soft smile, dark skin crinkling around the corners of his eyes as he thanked him.

Some shirts that still needed mending made the image of Aiden humming as he worked, sewing  yet another of Lambert’s torn pants, flash across his mind.

A pair of gauntlets caused the phantom touch of Aiden’s callused hands to settle on Lambert’s upper arms before he shrugged the sensation off.

Lambert snarled as he batted the memories away. He hated this, hated feeling like there was a jagged hole in his chest that ached every time he remembered that Aiden was gone. Keira was nice, and Lambert genuinely liked her, and maybe even more than liked her, but. She wasn’t Aiden . 

Missing Aiden felt like missing a fucking limb , and Lambert was so tired of it. 

Maybe the worst part was that sometimes Lambert forgot . He would see something at a stall and think ‘ Oh, Aiden’s gonna love this’ . Or he would pick up a dagger and weigh it in his hand out of habit, to see if it would be good for throwing, even though Lambert preferred to keep hold of his weapons. Or the one time he had found himself brewing extra of the potions that Aiden had preferred to use.

That had ended with him throwing the vials at the wall in a fit of rage, and Keira had made him clean up the mess.

And every time, the realization that Aiden was dead hit him all over again, like being blindsided by a brick wall. In the three years since his Cat had been killed, it hadn’t gotten any easier to cope with his absence. 

Witchers didn’t have emotions his ass. Lambert’s life would be so much easier if he didn’t feel shit.

Grumbling under his breath, Lambert stomped into the bedroom and started looking to see if the damn vambrace was in here somewhere. He rifled through the dresser with no luck, gritting his teeth at the way that Aiden’s clothes didn’t even smell like him anymore. With a growl of frustration, he turned on the desk next, yanking drawers open only to slam them shut again when they failed to yield the fucking armor he was looking for.

Inkpot (dried out), shiny rock, several quills, paper, another rock, a single sock, potion vials, more fucking rocks - seriously, Aiden is-was-had-been such a fucking magpie - some extra quills, letter-

Letter?

Lambert paused in his ransacking of the hapless desk, attention caught by the innocuous piece of folded paper addressed to Lambert, my Wolf,  in Aiden’s unmistakably curly penmanship.

Cautiously, he picked it up, as careful as he knew how to be. The piece of paper sat innocently in his hands, too small and light to make Lambert’s throat tighten like it did. It took him far longer than it should have to muster up the nerve to unfold the dusty letter and start reading it.

Lambert,

If you’re reading this, love, it means that something went very wrong, and I finally found the hunt I won’t come back from. If that’s the case: I’m so, so sorry to leave you like this.

Lambert sat down heavily on the floor, all thoughts of searching forgotten.

Whatever happened, my darling Wolf, I promise I did my best to come back to you. I know you’ll blame yourself for it somehow, so I’m telling you now: don’t. Whatever happened, whatever I did or didn’t do, it was not your fault. I made my choices, for better or worse, and you don’t get to take that from me. The world doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart, and you can’t carry its weight on your shoulders. You couldn’t have stopped it from happening: if you had, you wouldn’t be reading this.

I love you, Lambert. With all my heart and all my soul, you are the light of my life. I adore your sharp edges and your razor tongue, and the soft belly you try so hard to hide. I love the way you make me extra potions and the way you snarl at me when you think I’m being an idiot.

(You’re usually right.)

I love watching your face as you wake up in the morning, soft and sleepy. I love your fury, the way you rage at the world for all the wrong it’s done you. I love seeing you in the throes of pleasure, blushing all the way down and so worked up you forget your own name. I love watching you fight, all muscle and elegant deadliness with a blade in your hands, a dancer fir for the world’s greatest stage.

Do one thing for me, puppy? As a last request? 

Live for me.

Don’t bury this inside you, Lambert. Don’t bottle up your feelings and shove them down. It’ll eat you alive, sweetheart, destroy you from the inside out. Don’t do that to me. You gotta keep living, baby. Find something to hold onto. Go out and keep living, everyday. Maybe even find someone to love. I promise I won’t be angry, my prickly puppy. You deserve all the love in the world, and if someone can give it to you when I can’t, don’t pass that by, darling. 

Whatever happens, Lam, just know I loved you, all along, for all of it.

Your Cat,

Aiden.

Distantly, Lambert realized he was sobbing. The tears ran down his face as his vision blurred, unable even to make out the paper in his hands. He had to force himself to relax his fingers for fear of tearing the precious letter with his white-knuckle grip on them, the last words Aiden would ever tell him.

All the Wolf could do was curl himself over the too-small piece of paper, kneeling on the floor of a dusty room and weeping for all he had lost and all he would never have again.

Chapter Text

Eskel was out hunting when he noticed the blood.

It was spattered on the ground in an irregular trail uphill, where broken twigs and flattened grass indicated that something - or some one - had stumbled through the area.

It wasn’t any of the other Wolves - they had all made it to Kaer Morhen safely this year, thank the gods. Although with the way Lambert was grieving, he may have preferred not to.

Eskel spared a moment to worry for his youngest brother. It was incredibly obvious that Lambert had lost someone deeply important to him, and Eskel’s heart ached for the youngest member of their pack. Lambert had always felt things deeply, and from what little Geralt had told them, this was a loss he would feel for a long time. 

Shaking his head, Eskel turned his attention back to the present. Whatever had left these drops of blood was clearly injured, badly. He couldn’t leave it to wander the woods like that - it would be cruel, plain and simple. 

Eskel sighed before beginning to follow the crushed leaves and drops of blood. It wasn’t a hard trail to follow, since whatever had caused it had apparently been fairly large.

The drops of blood grew larger and more frequent the longer he followed them, until Eskel spotted something that made his heart drop into his stomach. On the side of a tree, a bloody handprint stood out from the grey bark like a signpost. It was smeared, like someone had stumbled and caught themselves on the tree before shambling onwards.

Deeply worried now, Eskel quickened his pace. The only people who would be up here in the mountains, especially at this time of year, would be ones who already knew where Kaer Morhen was. Whoever this was, it had to be someone that one of his brothers trusted enough to tell them the location of the keep. Anyone Geralt or Lambert trusted that deeply had to be someone important to them.

Eskel refused to see his brothers grieving for any more people than they already had.

The spots of blood kept growing larger, until they were smears on every other tree - the mystery person was obviously leaning on them to keep going. The trail on the ground was also getting messier, as they stumbled and lost their balance. Eskel was trotting through the forest now, fear eating at his heels as he thought of how much blood they must have lost to leave this obvious a trail, how badly they must be injured.

It was only a scant handful of minutes before he reached a small clearing, and Eskel’s heart stopped for a moment when he saw the figure slumped on the ground underneath a tree. Dashing over, he knelt beside the man and fumbled for his throat in a bid to find a heartbeat. After a few long seconds, he felt a weak pulse flutter beneath his fingertips and the tightness in his chest eased with the discovery. 

“L’m’r?”

Blinking in surprise, Eskel met the eyes of the prone man.

Or rather, eye, singular. The man - the witcher , he noted absently, seeing the familiar yellow slit-pupiled eye - tried to haul himself into a sitting position, almost falling before Eskel caught him and carefully leaned him against the tree. Far too easily, Eskel realized. The strange witcher was little more than skin and bones, and the source of the bloody trail was evident: a large gash in his side, bandaged with what looked to be the tattered and dirty remains of a shirt. Eskel’s nose wrinkled at the stench of infection rising from the wound. Unsurprising, given how filthy the man was, but distinctly a bad sign.

“L’m’rt?” The stranger repeated, looking almost desperate. His remaining eye was blown wide, and sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chilly autumn air.

“Easy, easy,” Eskel soothed. “You’re alright, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re in the Kaedwen Mountains, near Kaer Morhen. My name’s Eskel. You looking for something?”

The stranger tried to nod assertively before wincing. “Ye. L’m’rt?”

Eskel tilted his head, confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Frustration flashed across the other witcher’s face, before clearing. Clumsily, he groped at Eskel’s chest area, until Eskel carefully helped him to his goal - the wolf medallion around his neck.

Triumphantly, he tried to shove it at Eskel, almost toppling over before Eskel was able to catch him. Taking no notice, he repeated, clearly trying to enunciate the word, “ L’m’rt? ”

“...Lambert?” Eskel said slowly, the gears spinning in his head. “You’re looking for Lambert?”

“ Y’s, ” the stranger got out, his pained nod bouncing the matted black curls tangled around his head and revealing the semi-arched points to his ears. “P’ls. L’m’rt?”

The desperate, hopeful gaze on his gaunt and filthy face was too much for Eskel to ignore. “Alright. I’ll take you to Lambert. Doubt you’re much of a threat anyway, and I’m not one to leave a fellow witcher to die if I can help it.”

The scabs on the other man’s lips split open from the force of his smile. Moving quickly but carefully, Eskel shrugged off his cloak and wrapped it around the witcher before hoisting him into his arms. The man was far, far too light, and a pained noise escaped his throat as he went limp against Eskel’s chest. 

Eskel laid a hand on his forehead and swore. The stranger was burning up with fever, undoubtedly from the infected wound. Taking off at a run, Eskel made for Kaer Morhen as fast as he could.

Lambert had lost enough in his life. Eskel would not let his brother lose this too.

Coming to a stop just inside the gate, Eskel panted with the effort of running three straight miles back to the keep, with the additional weight of another witcher, even if he was near death’s door. 

Geralt looked up as he arrived, eyes wide at the sight of the dirt covered, near skeletal figure in his arms.

“Esk, who the hell’s this?”

Eskel shrugged as best he could without disturbing the body in his arms. “Dunno. Found him in the woods, and I wasn’t about to let him die. D'you have any idea if Lambert invited anyone to the keep?”

Geralt blinked at the non sequitur. “Don’t think so. Why?”

“Cus when I found him, he kept asking for Lam. Took me a minute to understand what he wanted, he was having that much trouble talking - dehydrated, probably.”

Eskel knew his brother well enough to catch the moment Geralt put together whatever pieces he had found. Geralt inhaled sharply as he stared at the unconscious witcher slumped in Eskel’s arms, before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“Stay here, I’ll go get Lambert. Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“Like what, a bruxa?” Eskel sniped at his brother’s rapidly retreating back. Geralt didn’t bother to reply, already heading towards the inner door at a run.

Lambert was in a foul mood. The combination of being stuck in the keep, the growing cold, and the ever-present ache in his chest all came together to make him want to scream and throw things at the walls. Since the old man would have a fit if he did that, Lambert was working on repairing a battlement instead.

It wasn’t as good as blowing shit up, but at least it meant he would be left the fuck alone for a bit.

He wasn’t stupid , he could see the way Snowball looked at him when he thought Lambert wasn’t looking. He wasn’t going to go salt himself and go stand like an idiot in front of an angry slyzard , so Geralt could keep his damn concern to himself.

Speaking of pretty boy, Lambert could hear him thundering up the stairs. A growl rumbled in his chest as he turned to face the stairs, too cranky to even pretend to be nice. As soon as Geralt came into view, Lambert snapped, “What the fuck do you want?”

“You’re gonna want to get down to the courtyard,” the other Wolf panted. The moron looked like he had run the entire fucking way from said courtyard, hair starting to fall out of his stupid half bun.

“Fuckin- why? No, wait, I don’t care. Fuck off, Geralt.” With that, Lambert turned his back to his brother and went back to halfheartedly poking at bricks.

“Lam-”

“Leave me the fuck ALONE, godsdamnit!” Lambert cried, whirling back around. “I’ve had enough of your fucking bullshit! I don’t wanna talk about it, I don’t want to hear about how it’ll get better , and I don’t want your fucking SYMPATHY! So just FUCK OFF and let me fucking mourn in peace! ”

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, Lambert’s chest heaving from the force of his outburst. Geralt looked back at him with wide, serious eyes, and slowly nodded.

“Alright. That’s fair. I’ll leave you alone, after you go down to the courtyard .”

Looking at the determined set to Geralt’s jaw, Lambert threw up his arms. “Fine! Fucking, alright. I’ll go down to the courtyard and see whatever stupid thing you’re so dead fucking set on me seeing, and then you’ll leave me the fuck alone. ”

Not bothering to wait for a response, Lambert shoved past his brother and stomped his way down the stairs, muttering all the while.

Kicking spitefully at the wall at the bottom of the steps, he glowered at it when it refused to open. Pushing at the handle until the hatch slammed open, Lambert stormed down the corridor towards the courtyard.

“Stupid Snowball… who does he think he is… bossing me around, fucking prick…”

He shoved at the heavy door that led outside, snarling and swearing as it stuck. Another kick dislodged it from the door jamb, and Lambert swore again before looking up and freezing. His heart stuttered in his chest as he finally caught sight of the thing Geralt had been so adamant about him seeing.

There, in the courtyard, stood a figure leaning on Eskel, but his brother might as well have been a rock for all Lambert noticed him. His entire world had stopped in his tracks, completely riveted on the figure standing with difficulty, shakily trying to take a drink from a waterskin.

Warm brown skin that Lambert had seen every inch of. Scars, both faded and new, that he had once traced with fingers and lips. The soft bouncy coils of hair Lambert had loved to run his fingers through. Lips now cracked and worn, but with the same crooked smile he had fallen in love with. All of it something Lambert had thought lost to him forever, doomed by the ravages of time.

But here he was, gaunt and filthy and leaning on Eskel for support, but alive .

“ Aiden, ” Lambert whispered, the name punched out of him like a fist to the gut. He was flying towards the Cat before he could blink. He slid to a stop in front of them to avoid crashing into Aiden,  ignoring Eskel’s noise of surprise. Carefully, so very carefully, Lambert tugged his lover into a hug, burying his nose into Aiden’s neck. 

Shakily but determinedly, Aiden was able to wrap his arms weakly around the Wolf’s back, despite needing to lean on him to stay upright. Even slumped over him, the Cat was still tall enough to rest his chin on Lambert’s head. 

Sniffing at the hollow of his throat, Lambert was able to sort through the layered scents of pain and distress to discern the essential scent of Aiden , the smell that for decades had told him he was safe in the arms of his lover, the scent he had thought he would never experience again.

Lambert pulled him impossibly closer, shoving his head into Aiden’s shoulder and doing his best to hide the way his body was shaking. Distantly, he registered that Geralt had followed him down and was talking to Eskel, but it was immediately subsumed by the chant of Aiden Aiden Aiden that was all he could think. Growling, he thumped his fist against Aiden’s back, careful not to hurt him.

“You stupid fucker, I thought you were dead. You just, you fuckin’ left me, you asshole- ”

“I know. ‘M sorry.” Aiden’s voice was rough with disuse and pain, and Lambert’s heart tightened at the sound. “Didn’t mean to leave you, baby.”

A high pitched whine escaped his throat as Lambert tried to burrow his way into Aiden, curling up against his chest and shaking as he wept into the hollow of the Cat’s throat. He felt the arms around him squeeze weakly, before Aiden started to purr. Weakly and faintly, but the soft vibration only made Lambert cry harder.

He had no idea how long they stood there, wrapped up in each other, only that it was long enough for Geralt and Eskel to have quietly left. Careful not to jostle Aiden, Lambert pulled back and wiped at his eyes. “Fuckin- made me cry, you bastard.”

“Sorry,” Aiden rasped, his bright smile betraying his lack of regret. “Know how important your tough guy rep is.”

Lambert snorted. “Fuck you,” he said without any real heat. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? You’re fucking filthy, kitten.”

“Might have to carry me there, but I won’t turn you down.” Aiden tried to wiggle his eyebrows, only to yelp as Lambert easily hoisted him up into his arms. It was far too easy to lift his lover, Lambert noted with worry - for all that the Cat was a full six inches taller than him, he was far too thin at the moment. 

Striding towards the hot springs, Lambert was careful not to jostle his passenger too much. For his part, Aiden rested his head against Lambert’s chest and let himself be carried, the soft rumble of his purr deepening and growing loud enough to vibrate throughout Lambert’s chest.

Someone had left a stack of towels, soap, some bandages, a jar of salve, and a set of clean clothes that would probably fit Aiden next to one of the warmer pools. Gently setting him down next to the lip of the basin, Lambert decided that he owed Eskel a shitton of White Gull for this. The good stuff, too.

There was no point in trying to salvage the rags Aiden was wearing. They were so crusted in dirt, mud, and various bodily fluids that Lambert did not want to think about, thanks , that the only thing they were good for at this point was the garbage heap. Pulling a dagger from his boot, Lambert simply cut the few remaining seams on the shirt and pants and unceremoniously tossed them in a heap to burn later.

Aiden stirred as he started to remove the makeshift bandage on his side. The Cat whined blearily, clearly still out of it but not wanting the pain of poking at his wound.

“Shh, kitty-cat,” Lambert shushed. “I know, I know, it hurts like hell. But I gotta clean it out so it can heal, alright? Just gotta hold still for me for a few minutes, then we can get you clean.”

He got a quiet whimper in response as Aiden laid his head back down. 

Lambert peeled off the last layer of cloth and had to resist the urge to pinch his nose shut at the smell of infection that rose from the wound. Something had slashed Aiden good, and the resulting gash was long and deep. The good news was that it looked relatively recent, enough that the infection wasn’t deeply rooted yet. As gently as he could, Lambert wiped a damp rag over the wound to remove the dirt and debris until the skin around it was as clean as he could get it. He gritted his teeth at the sound of Aiden’s pained whimpers, forcing himself to keep going despite the way his heart felt like it was shattering at every bitten-off whine.

Eventually, he had removed all the crusted on mud, pebbles, and other bits of debris from the wound. There was no point in putting salve on it when it would only be washed away in the water, so he skipped it in favor of getting them both clean as soon as possible.

 Lambert stood and began shucking his clothes as fast as possible, unable to bear even a few moments of separation from his lover. Armor, boots, and clothes left in a pile near the edge of the pool, Lambert bent to scoop Aiden back into his arms and stepped into the hot spring. Gently, he eased the both of them down into the blood-warm water, watching Aiden’s face go slack in relief.

“‘F I’d h’ve known you had hot springs up here, I woulda visited way sooner,” the Cat mumbled, too blissed out to bother enunciating. 

Lambert chuckled at the way Aiden’s eye slid shut, the tension slowly draining from his face. It was good, seeing the way his lover relaxed in his arms, bonelessly content in a way that they rarely got to have.

Aiden blinked his eye open slowly as the Wolf twisted behind him, only to flourish the bar of soap at him.

“Alright kitten, let's get some of the muck off of you, before you dirty up the whole place.”

The hum Aiden let out was enough for Lambert to start gently scrubbing him from head to toe. Dirt and muck slowly but surely drifted free of Aiden’s soft brown skin, revealing far more scars than Lambert remembered. He bit his tongue against the questions he wanted to ask. There would be time for those later. Because there would be a later for them, now.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Lambert carefully wrapped an arm around Aiden’s stomach. “Lean back for me, kitten? I’ll wash your hair for you,” he murmured, trying not to disturb him.

Aiden tensed, eye flicking back open to meet Lambert’s gently worried gaze. He willed himself to stay calm as he held his lover’s gaze, trying to project safety and trust. After a long moment, Aiden nodded cautiously and turned back around to let Lambert gently lower him into the water. At the first brush of fingers through his hair, Aiden flinched away from the touch before taking a deep breath and visibly steeling himself against whatever horrors he had endured.

Lambert felt a wave of utter rage wash over him towards whatever had made his kitten so scared to have someone touch his hair. Cautiously, he pulled his hands back, letting them hover over Aiden’s head.

“Hey,” he said softly. “We don’t gotta do this if you don’t want to. We can figure out something else to get it clean, I’m not gonna do shit that you don’t want.”

“No, just-” Aiden faltered, his hands shaking. “I want my hair clean for once. I- be careful, alright? I trust you,” he said finally, flicking a small smile over his shoulder at Lambert. The smile grew distinctly watery, and his hands clenched on nothing as he added, “Just. Don’t pull? Please.”

“‘Course not, kitten,” Lambert soothed, stomping down the howling fury in his chest that wanted to maim whoever had dared to yank on Aiden’s curls hard enough to make the Cat afraid of it happening again. “Let’s try something different, yea? C’mere.”

Following Lambert’s gesturing, Aiden let himself be maneuvered into laying down on the small ledge of rock they had been sitting on with his head cushioned in the other witcher’s lap. This way, he could see what Lambert was doing, and some of the tension eased from his body. To Lambert’s critical eye, he was still on edge, but much better than before.

“Easy, kitten, easy, I gotcha. You’re safe, Aiden. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here. I’m just gonna clean your hair, alright? I even have this fancy-schmancy bottle of hair soap I nicked from Geralt. Not like he’ll miss it, we all know his bard buys him shit for his hair all the time-”

Lambert rambled on, trying to distract Aiden as he took the time to gently scrub the dirt and… other things out of his hair. Once it was at least mostly clean, he started to untangle the Cat’s dark curls, taking all the care he could to avoid tugging on any hair or snagging on the slight points to his ears. The whole time, he kept up the soothing nonsense chatter in a desperate effort to ease Aiden’s obvious terror. He was still trembling slightly, and his eye locked onto Lambert’s hands anytime they were in view. Whatever he was afraid of, it had been traumatic enough to leave scars as deep as any caused by a monster’s claws.

Eventually, Lambert lifted his hands away and said, “Alright, kitty, all done.” He gently pushed Aiden up and into a sitting position, watching the Cat run his hands through his hair and sag with relief when they came back clean. Slowly, giving Aiden time to say something if he objected, Lambert gathered him into his arms. Aiden went willingly, too tired to argue even if he had wanted to. It was odd, the way someone so tall could fold up small enough to fit in Lambert’s lap. They stayed like that for a while, content to simply bask in each other’s presence.

Aiden’s stomach growled, interrupting their reverie. He blushed, shifting awkwardly on Lambert’s lap. “Sorry. It’s been….a few days, I think? Since the last time I ate anything. Not a lot of stuff left on the bushes this time of year, think the last thing I had was a handful of berries.”

Lambert had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat as he realized that, as weak as he was, of course Aiden would have been relying on berries and herbs to survive. There was no way the emaciated witcher would have been able to hunt anything in his current state, not without his weapons and missing an eye to boot. 

With that thought came a creeping horror, as it sunk in for Lambert that had Eskel not stumbled onto him, Aiden would have likely either starved or frozen to death in the first big snowstorm of the year, and he would have been none the wiser.

He owed Eskel an enormous favor.

Breathing deeply, Lambert focused back on the present. Aiden was here and in his arms, alive, and by all the gods Lambert was going to keep it that way.

“Then we better get you dressed and fed, huh? C’mon, Vesemir always makes plenty of food whenever someone arrives. I’ll have to fatten you up for the winter, kitty, or you’ll blow away in the wind.”

“Aww, is the big bad wolf going to eat me up?” Aiden teased, smirking up at him from where his head was resting on Lambert’s shoulder.

He snorted. “Maybe once you can walk across a room in a straight line I’ll think about it.” As much as Aiden looked better now that he was clean, the way he resembled a famine victim pretty cleanly killed any chance of Lambert’s libido making an appearance. Not that he wasn’t still attractive, because it was still Aiden, and Lambert would find Aiden attractive covered in blood and shit, but being able to count his lover’s ribs only made Lambert want to feed him until a healthy layer of muscle covered his bones again.

“Alright kitty-cat, let’s get that wound stitched up and we’ll go up for dinner.” With that, Lambert slipped an arm underneath Aiden’s knees and easily lifted the Cat out of the pool and deposited him onto the ground, ignoring his surprised yelp. Bracing his hands on a patch of dry rock, Lambert boosted himself up and backwards out of the pool to join him.

Not bothering to stand up, he leaned over to rustle through his armor for a needle and thread. Aiden curled up peacefully on some towels and watched him with half-lidded eyes. Finally locating his needle, Lambert scooted over and knelt by Aiden’s side.

“You alright with this, kitten?” he murmured, giving his lover a chance to tell him no.

“Yeah. I trust you, Lam.”

Willing his eyes to stop stinging, Lambert took a deep breath and set to stitching Aiden’s side. It was obviously far less painful to stitch than it had been to clean, after a good warm soak and a chance to let go of some of the fear and tension the Cat had been carrying for so long. Aside from a few twitches and a soft noise or two, he let Lambert pull the skin together without interruption. For his part, Lambert did his best to sew quickly but steadily, knowing that the sooner he was done, the sooner Aiden would be able to relax. 

Tying a final knot in the thread, he sat back on his heels and proclaimed, “There, all done. Let me slap some salve on that and bandage it, and you’re all done.”

“How’s it look?” Aiden asked, trying to sit up and peer down his side.

“Ah-ah-ah, none of that. Don’t go and undo all my hard work, you asshole.” Lambert grabbed the jar of salve and ran a critical eye over the injury. “The color’s loads better, and it doesn’t stink nearly as bad as it did. You’re on the mend, kitty.” Satisfied, he unscrewed the top and scooped out some of the gel inside.

“You saying I stink, puppy? Not sure you can talk- kss!” Aiden hissed as the cold salve met his skin, twisting to look at Lambert reproachfully.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” he said innocently, the care in his hands as he applied the salve belying his teasing.

Aiden rolled his eyes, a fond smile curling his lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Lam. Next time you have to fight drowners in a sewer, we’ll see who’s the one laughing.”

“Sure thing, Aiden. Maybe then I can finally get you back for that shitshow in Oxenfurt-”

“Hey! We agreed to never talk about that again , thank you very much!”

“ You said that, I just didn’t argue,” Lambert responded dryly. Tying the last bandage around Aiden’s chest, he helped the Cat into a sitting position. Yanking his own clothes on, he turned to see Aiden struggling to pull his shirt on. 

“Help?” he asked sheepishly.

“Sure thing, kitten.” Lambert helped pull the shirt over Aiden’s head, and then his pants over his legs when Aiden proved too uncoordinated to do it himself. Not giving his lover a chance to protest, Lambert slipped one arm under his legs and hoisted Aiden into a bridal carry, setting off for the stairs.

“Wh- Lam, c’mon. I’m not a total invalid,” the Cat complained, despite linking his arms around Lambert’s neck for stability.

“Mm- hmm , sure you’re not, buddy. You definitely could have made it up all these stairs allll by yourself, right?”

“... You could have at least picked a better way to carry me,” Aiden griped, clearly trying to keep at least some of his dignity.

Lambert snorted. “What, you don’t want to be a pretty pretty princess? Can always toss you over my shoulder like a sack of grain, if you’d prefer.”

Aiden heaved a fake-affronted sigh. “No, this is fine, I guess .”

“That’s what I thought,” Lambert said smugly as he reached the top of the stairs. Not pausing in his stride, despite Aiden’s wiggling and demands to be put down, he continued to the main hall.  There was already a veritable feast set up on one of the tables, and he heard Aiden’s stomach growl at the sight.

Lambert deposited Aiden on the end of a bench and plopped himself down next to the Cat. Ignoring Geralt and Eskel’s curious stares, he began to fill a plate with food, shoving it at Aiden along with a bowl of stew before getting his own food. 

Vesemir only rolled his eyes as he reentered the hall, long used to the youngest Wolf’s manners, or lack thereof. “Behave, you barbarian pup,” he rumbled. “And you,” he said, looking at Aiden, “make sure you eat up. The winters in the mountains will freeze you solid if you’re not careful, and you’ll need more meat on your bones before the cold sets in.”

“... Yes, sir,” Aiden got out, eye wide at the tacit approval in his words. Carefully, he bent himself over the hot meal. Lambert watched him out of the corner of his eye, making sure the food wouldn’t upset his stomach after so long without, but Aiden was careful to eat slowly despite how obviously hungry he was. The Cat kept glancing at the bounty of food in front of him, eye wide in awe and unable to keep from trying a small piece of everything on offer.

Lambert stuffed another roll in his mouth to avoid saying anything stupidly sappy. 

It was a quiet meal, the other Wolves apparently sensing that neither Lambert nor Aiden were up to answering questions just yet. Instead, Geralt and Eskel shared news from the last year they had spent on the Path in between bits of Vesemir’s excellent cooking. Lambert tuned most of it out, too focused on Aiden’s presence by his side to really process the words.

He noticed Aiden slowing down, but it still came as a surprise when his head fell onto Lambert’s shoulder. Swallowing his bite of food, he turned to see Aiden blinking slowly before attempting unsuccessfully to smother a huge yawn. Lambert snorted, polishing off the last of his venison in two quick bites. 

“Alright, assholes, we’re off to bed. Disturb us and die a fiery death,” he announced to the room, interrupting Eskel’s story about some bruxa or other he had hunted (and Geralt’s smirking questions about are you sure it wasn’t another succubus, ‘skel? )

(They would let Eskel live that one down only once he was dead . And even then, Lambert planned to keep pulling it out to needle his brother in whatever afterlife witchers got.)

Scooping Aiden into his arms again, Lambert turned on his heel and left his brothers in the main hall to begin the trek up to his room. Aiden only let out a soft mrp of protest when they went up the stairs, and was more than half asleep by the time Lambert shouldered open the door to his room.

Carefully laying Aiden down on the bed, Lambert went to stir up the embers in the hearth, adding a few logs for good measure. He quickly slipped on a loose pair of soft pants and a clean shirt, and had to fight the urge to burst out laughing when he turned back to the bed. Aiden had managed to get under the covers and had thoroughly cocooned himself, with only his face sticking out from the nest of blankets. The soft rumble of his satisfied purr brought a fond smile to Lambert’s face, one he couldn’t have hidden if he wanted to.

“Any chance I could get in there, kitten?” he asked softly, heart swelling at the way Aiden shuffled over to make room for him. Sliding under the covers, Lambert felt a knot in his chest loosen, a tightness in his lungs that he had lived with every day he had woken up and known Aiden was dead suddenly easing. It left him feeling almost lightheaded at the absence of that weight on his soul.

Clumsily, Aiden reached for him and tried to pull him closer. Lambert obliged and slid over until they were resting chest to chest, his head tucked under Aiden’s chin. It was a position so intimately familiar and reassuring that it threatened to bring tears to Lambert’s eyes again, overwhelmed by memories of all the times they had curled up together like this, whether in cheap shitty inn beds or under endless fields of stars. He had to bury his head against Aiden’s throat to fend off the tears that threatened to fall at the recovery of yet another thing he had thought lost to him forever.

“Hey, baby, you’re thinking too hard,” Aiden mumbled, his half lidded eye glinting with amusement. “Go to sleep, puppy. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out in the morning. Together.”

“Yeah,” Lambert rasped, overcome with the idea. “Together.”