Chapter Text
Vesemir wanted to get everything perfect. He had one more gift up his sleeve.
Geralt spent the afternoon sticking stars to his ceiling, with the help of the star map, and Eskel, and Lambert spent the afternoon playing with his favorite gift—a used hot wheels racetrack that Ves had found in almost new condition at the thrift shop—more dialed in than Ves had ever seen him.
Vesemir played with him for a while, watching Lamb watch the shiny cars zooming around the plastic track, hoping Lamb would win because his excited reaction never wavered, and was more entertaining than anything else. Eventually he had to leave him though, so he could prepare the food for Christmas dinner, and himself for delivering his final gift.
It took several hours of cooking, and by the time Vesemir was finished in the kitchen and ready to round up the boys for dinner, his mind was totally focused on what he wanted to say to them all. He should’ve known not to let his guard down.
“Come on Lambchop. You too. Time to wash up.”
“No, I’m not hungry.” He sent another car zipping around the track.
“Your hot wheels will still be there when you’re done.” He knelt next to Lamb, whose eyes were still trained on the car. “Can you put your car back in the box and come wash your hands?”
“No thank you.”
Nice try, but using polite words was not going to get him out of this one.
“The food is going to get cold,” he said, his voice getting the slightest bit sterner. “Eskel and Geralt are waiting for us. They’re hungry.”
“They can eat. I don’t mind.” He sent the car zooming again, but Vesemir stopped it before it could reach the finish line, and placed it in the box with the rest of his cars.
“We’re all done now, Lambert. It’s time to wash up for dinner.”
Finally, Lambert pulled his focus from the racetrack, and the look he gave Vesemir sent a chill down his back. It was a face he knew, unfortunately, all too well.
“Nooooo.” He drew out the word, turning it into a screech halfway through, and reaching for the box of cars with both hands. “I’m not done!”
“Your cars are not going anywhere. They will be here waiting for you after dinner.”
“No, no, no!”
Vesemir sighed. It was like every Christmas meltdown he’d been trying to avoid for the last month had been saved up for this moment. Yelling, crying, hitting, and an utter refusal to come eat the dinner Ves had worked so hard to make.
No doubt the little guy was hungry, and that had to be making everything worse, but taking him to the dinner table in this state was just asking for trouble.
Instead he moved Lambert, kicking and screaming, to his bedroom, hoping that if the toy was out of sight, it might loosen its hold on him, but it still took nearly another half hour before Lamb had calmed down enough to come sit at the table.
By then both of them were exhausted—Lamb still sniffling and Ves feeling like crying himself—and the food was cold. Geralt and Eskel, bless them, had waited patiently, and continued waiting patiently while he reheated the food.
“Can I have a roll?” Lambert asked, his sentence interrupted by a hiccup.
They were the first words he hadn’t screamed in what felt like hours, and Ves was so relieved that he agreed to let Lamb nibble on a roll while he dished everything up.
Even before he’d sat down, Geralt was telling Vesemir about his star project.
“And we used the tape measure, and oriented it so Ursa Major is about Eskel’s bed,” he said, “get it? Because he’s Bear.”
“I love that, Wolf. How much do you have to go?”
“Still about half of them.”
“We’ve been measuring them very carefully,” Eskel told him, his emphasis on the last two words letting Vesemir know just how seriously Geralt was taking this.
He was glad to hear it. Geralt so rarely got excited about anything.
Vesemir only hoped his final gift would be as exciting as the stars.
***
Eskel was absolutely thrilled by his Christmas dinner.
A gift in and of itself, Vesemir’s holiday meals were leaps and bounds better than any of the ones he’d had at his other foster homes. He didn’t hesitate to dig in, extra hungry after Lambert’s diversion, and after he finished his first plate he went back for seconds.
His focus wasn’t pulled from the meal until Vesemir spoke.
“So boys, I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Eskel went cold. That couldn’t be good. When in his life had that ever been good?
He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the line Eskel had gotten comfortable here. Subconsciously, he’d started assuming he would stay here for the long haul. It was only four more years until he aged out, and he’d never said so out loud, but he’d really hoped to spend those four years with Vesemir.
“Getting to be your foster dad for the past few years has been such an honor,” Vesemir continued. “I love you boys so much.”
All three pairs of eyes were trained on Ves. Even Lamb. Young as he was, he’d been relocated before. It was a trauma he, unfortunately, was familiar with. For the second time today, Eskel felt tears prick the corners of his eyes.
“And it would be an incredible gift, if you all would let me make things official.”
“Huh?” Eskel cleared his throat, more confused now than upset.
“I’d like to adopt you.”
“Yes,” Eskel blurted out before Vesemir could say anything, as if his next words might be taking it all back.
The other two must’ve said yes too, judging by the smile on his face, but Eskel couldn’t hear them past his own tears.
It felt like a thousand pound weight he hadn’t even realized was on his shoulders had been lifted. He was never going to another foster home. He wasn’t going to be left on his own the minute he turned eighteen.
Eskel buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
“Oh, kiddo.” Vesemir got up from his seat and the head of the table and walked around to where Eskel sat. Eskel didn’t hesitate to stand up and embrace him.
The tears from earlier were nothing compared to this, all of his happiness and relief pouring out of him in great, choking sobs.
“I’ve got you, Kelly. It’s alright.”
Before he could gather himself and say something in response, he felt something slam into his hip. He looked down to find Lambert attached to his leg, a grin on his face, all upset from before forgotten in the wake of this new celebration. Then Geralt stood and wrapped his arms around Eskel’s back. He was crying too, no doubt feeling the same relief Eskel was.
They were never going to be separated. Eskel would never have to live in a home without Geralt and Lambert. They were his brothers now, in every sense of the word.
And Vesemir was their father.
And he would be when he turned eighteen, and twenty, and thirty, and fifty. They were going to be bound together for life, and Eskel was going to be safe.
No Christmas present would ever compare to this.