Chapter Text
Geralt waited until the commercial break. They were about halfway through Lord of the Rings now, Lambert was out cold on the other bed, Eskel was curled up next to him watching the movie, and Geralt had successfully eaten and kept down a handful of crackers. He turned to where Vesemir sat on the bed next to him.
“I think I’m ready for some soup now,” he said, cautious.
His father’s face lit up.
“Oh, good lad,” he praised. “I’ll heat some up for you.”
Vesemir did just that, bringing back a steaming bowl half filled with chicken noodle soup a few minutes later. Geralt wouldn’t say he was hungry, exactly, but he did still have that empty, hollow nausea in his stomach. The crackers had helped, and he hoped the soup would finish the job. So he dutifully brought a spoonful to his mouth, blew on it until it was cool enough, and then started eating. And again. And again after that, repeating the same motion until the soup was gone.
He finished it before the movie was over, and he had to admit, Ves and Eskel had been right. He felt pretty much back to normal. He could recognize that his fears about waking up in the middle of the night to throw up again were probably irrational, and he no longer felt such palpable dread about getting through the rest of the weekend. He set his bowl on the bedside table and once again turned to face Vesemir.
“Hey, you finished your soup! Good job, Wolf,” he praised. “How are you feeling?”
“A lot better,” Geralt admitted. “You guys were right. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”
“You ate the soup, didn’t you?” Vesemir put his arm around him, and Geralt snuggled into his side. “You trusted us. It just took a little bit of time,” he said. “It’s okay to need a little bit of time.”
Geralt nodded, biting his lip. That wasn’t the only thing he wanted to apologize for.
“I’m sorry for ruining everything today,” he continued, his voice lowered so it was barely louder than a whisper, and his eyes downcast. “In the car, and at the tidepools, and at the restaurant.”
“Hey.” Vesemir’s embrace tightened around him. “Geralt, you did not ruin anything. I need you to know that,” he admonished. “Nothing that happened today was your fault, and nothing got ruined.”
Geralt wasn’t convinced. All day, Vesemir’s actions had been guided by what Geralt needed, not Eskel, or Lambert, or himself. They stopped driving because Geralt got sick. They left the tidepools because he had gotten wet. They waited to go to dinner until he was out of the shower. They left the diner because he had thrown up. Even now, they were watching Lord of the Rings because it would make him feel better. It hadn’t even been a question.
“I was always the one who needed something,” he tried to explain. “Lambert and Eskel didn’t need anything.”
“You aren’t being fair to yourself, kiddo.” Vesemir’s eyebrows furrowed.
“It’s the truth though,” he insisted.
“It’s okay to need things,” Vesemir told him. “It’s okay to ask for help.”
“Still,” he mumbled. “The others didn’t have to, that’s just the truth. It’s not fair. ”
Vesemir sighed. “The others weren’t having such a hard day. The others didn’t have to deal with getting carsick, and feeling ill all evening. That’s what isn’t fair, and I’m really sorry you had to go through all that.”
“Don’t apologize to me.” He recoiled. “Please.”
“Fine, I won’t,” Vesemir conceded. “But you had a hard day today because of reasons completely out of your control. That’s just the truth. It’s okay to be a little extra needy when you’re having a hard day. And nothing you needed ruined anything. We adjusted our plans a little to take care of you, because we care about you. Nothing got ruined.” He repeated it over and over, as if that might change Geralt’s mind.
“Eskel and Lambert didn’t get to do anything they wanted to though. I kept interrupting,” he pointed out.
“We’ve got the whole rest of the weekend,” he reminded him. “Eskel.” The older boy looked up sleepily. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”
“Boat museum,” he answered without hesitation.
“Alright.” He looked back down at Geralt. “We’ll go to the boat museum, and we’ll get spaghetti for dinner. Everybody’s happy.”
“I’ll be better tomorrow,” Geralt assured him. “I promise.”
“And I will love you, and look out for you even if you aren’t.”
Geralt didn’t say anything to this, ducking his head to hide the tears pricking the corners of his eyes, burrowing deeper into his foster dad’s side and settling in to finish watching the movie. He’d had enough talking for today. He’d had enough everything for today, so instead he thought about tomorrow, about their plans and his promise.
The boat museum did sound really fun. Eskel knew a lot about boats. It would be interesting to follow him around and see what he had to say about the different exhibits. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too loud or too crowded. Well, if Lambert was there, it definitely wouldn’t be peaceful. He remembered then, that they’d driven past it on their way to dinner. There was a huge playground outside shaped like a pirate ship. Lambert would be thrilled, and Geralt and Eskel would be able to walk through together in peace.
And spaghetti for dinner didn’t sound so bad. The idea of food, and even the thought of going to a restaurant didn’t turn his stomach the way it would have a few hours ago. Maybe in the afternoon he could ask Vesemir if they might go back to the tidepools. Maybe they would get ice cream again, and this time he would feel good enough to eat some.
Before the movie ended, and before he knew it was happening, Geralt dozed off, warm and comfortable nestled into Vesemir’s side. He fell asleep thinking about how he really might be able to keep his promise about having a good day tomorrow. And about how Vesemir would still be there looking out for him if he didn’t.