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Aiden was alive.
Fuck. Gaetan had thought he was the last living Cat, but Aiden was alive. Unconscious, and severely injured, but still alive.
‘He is a witcher, is he not?’ The hedge witch asked, watching Gaetan shrewdly. “For him to have survived the injuries he has, I could only assume he was a witcher, though I don’t know much about healing your kind. I’ve mostly been keeping him unconscious because I have no way of knowing how much anything helps with the pain, and with injuries like that, keeping him awake seemed cruel.’
Gaetan nodded. He didn’t really know what to say. What could he say? Aiden was alive and beginning to heal, at least a little, thanks to her. He would need more help than a hedge witch could provide, however, if he were to make a full recovery.
Would he make a full recovery? He’d need someplace safe to stay while he healed. Somewhere stable. Gaetan couldn’t drag him around the Continent looking for contracts, and even the most careful planning wouldn’t make the contracts Gaetan could get pay well enough to cover two for as long as Aiden would need to recover.
The problem was that Gaetan had nowhere the two of them could hole up in order for Aiden to heal properly, and he had no way of earning enough to feed them both, as well as pay for the potions and supplies Aiden would need.
Witchers didn’t get that kind of stability. Not unless they were Geralt of fucking Rivia, with his nice little vineyard in Toussaint.
Actually, Geralt and his vineyard weren’t the worst idea Gaetan had ever had. Aiden had had a wolf, he remembered, and wolves tended towards packs. If Aiden had belonged to one of them, the others would probably be inclined to help out just for that. If Gaetan could just get to Toussaint…
Well, that would be the trick, wouldn’t it?
‘I know where to take him, but I’ll need a little time to arrange it,’ he said, turning back to the hedge witch. ‘Whatever I’ll owe you for what you’ve spent on him, I’ll bring it when I get back.’
She peered at him with a suspicious look. ‘You’ve the look of a man about to do something foolish,’ she said. ‘Just you see that you do come back. As for payment, I’ve little need for coin here, but I’m sure you’ve ways of getting herbs and monster parts that I need for my spells. Anything you can bring me that can’t be found in these parts would be appreciated.’
Gaetan nodded and strode out of the little hut, away from the village. He wouldn’t find what he was looking for there. Hopefully, he could find a sorcerer within the week.
He turned his boots towards Novigrad. It was the closest place likely to house a mage and, if it did not, he could cross the water to Oxenfurt, where he’d likely have more luck. It was a long trek, especially given his lack of supplies. Not for the first time, he cursed himself as seven types of fool for giving so much to Geralt when they’d last crossed paths, but he hadn’t anticipated living much longer and Geralt’s need had seemed greater. At least he’d managed to replace his swords, although the quality of the ones he carried was dubious. They would have to be enough.
Gaetan, much like any Cat, knew where to go when he needed information. Knew who to talk to, and how to get them talking. He learned plenty in the three days he spent in Novigrad.
Jad had been living in the city “retired” from both being a witcher, and from his other criminal dealings. Jad and several of his cronies were now dead at the hands of two other witchers, one of whom had white hair. From what others had pieced together, the two witchers had been looking for vengeance, and Gaetan could only assume that meant Jad had something to do with Aiden’s current state.
Most importantly, however, Gaetan learned that he would have little luck with finding a sorcerer he could trust in Novigrad after the Eternal Flame had wiped most of them out or chased them off. So he had moved on to Oxenfurt to repeat the process, keeping his head down and trying very hard not to be noticed as he searched for someone who could help him.
One name stuck out, and Gaetan made his way to the house he’d scouted out. This venture was likely to be expensive, and very dangerous if he wasn’t careful. He was a wanted man, after all, and while he’d heard mostly good things about this sorceress, any Cat worth their medallion knew better than to get complacent.
The door was nondescript but the buzzing of his medallion told him he’d found himself at the right place, even if the smell of herbs and potions hadn’t already tipped him off. He pulled his hood tighter around his head and knocked on the door. It opened silently. Gaetan really hated dealing with mages.
The hall opened into a comfortable parlour with a few well stuffed armchairs and a cheerfully burning hearth. Gaetan hovered. It wasn’t long until a tall woman with beautiful brown curls came through a door in the far wall. She smiled at him.
‘Good afternoon, Ser Witcher,’ she said. Even her voice was beautiful. It was uncanny.
‘Afternoon,’ he rasped.
‘How can I help you today?’
He eyed her up, wondering what his request might cost him. There was never any telling how greedy a sorcerer might be, and he’d heard horror stories from fellow witchers: sorcerers, fascinated by their mutations, who had asked for blood, skin, even time to study them. It was why he’d always tried to avoid them wherever possible, but he couldn’t get Aiden to Toussaint any other way.
‘I need a portal to Toussaint,’ he said, watching the sorceress for a reaction. ‘Two going through; myself and one other.’
The sorceress smiled. ‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ she said.
‘I can pay part in coin, and part in potion and spell ingredients,’ Gaetan said, careful to make it clear from the start of their negotiations that he wouldn’t be offering anything else. If she asked for more, he would have to find someone else.
She looked him up and down, and he had to fight not to fidget under her gaze.
‘There is something I need for something I’ve been working on,’ she said. ‘It seems you’ve saved me the trouble of paying someone to get it for me. The liver of a werewolf, intact. Preferably a healthy adult, though an adolescent would suffice, in a pinch. When you return, we can talk money, but the liver will cover a large part of the cost.’
That was… a lot easier than Gaetan had expected, actually. He had anticipated a lot more haggling, but trying to talk her down from a werewolf liver and a little coin seemed… ungrateful. He wouldn’t get that kind of deal from anyone else, and he really couldn’t afford to piss her off enough that she wouldn’t help him.
‘I’ve got one condition for this,’ he said carefully. ‘You come to us with the portal; we’re not doing it here.’
The sorceress tilted her head to the side a little as she considered it. ‘That will increase my price a little, but I’m not opposed to it.’
Gaetan nodded decisively. ‘Then we have a deal. I’ll get you that liver, and you get me my portal.’
When all was said and done, Gaetan was left standing on the front step of Corvo Bianco with Aiden in his arms and a portal spiralling closed behind them. He had spent all of his coin and used his entire stash of herbs and ingredients to pay off both Merigold and the hedgewitch, but they were there. They had made it. Admittedly, he’d expected to have been left slightly further from the estate, but he didn’t have much time to consider it as the door swung open and a rather plump, balding man looked him in the eye.
‘Good afternoon. How can I help you?’ he asked, sounding not at all perturbed to find a pair of Witchers on his doorstep.
‘I need to speak with Geralt of Rivia,’ Gaetan said, his voice as steady as he could manage after the dizzying experience of walking through a portal.
‘I’m afraid Sir is out completing an inspection at the moment, but if you would care to step inside and wait but a moment, I’ll have someone go fetch him for you.’ The man stepped aside to gesture Gaetan in with a sweep of his arm, like Gaetan was some proper gentleman or something, instead of a tired, hungry witcher carrying a half-dead man in his arms.
The man directed Gaetan to a sort of sitting room, and indicated a couch he could lay Aiden on, apparently unbothered by the idea of a strange, unconscious man on the furniture.
Everything about it made Gaetan’s skin itch. Nothing was going quite as expected, and he was waiting for something to go wrong. There was no script he could follow to keep things on track, and that made him twitchy.
Luckily, Geralt responded fast to the news that an unknown witcher had arrived on his doorstep. It was good to know he hadn’t gone too soft in his retirement.
‘This is a surprise,’ Geralt said, stepping into the weird sitting room thing that probably had a proper name that Gaetan had never had a reason to learn.
There was a pause as Geralt’s eyes flicked to Aiden.
‘His name is Aiden,’ Gaetan offered, quietly, ‘I had nowhere else to go.’
‘Aiden? Lambert’s Aiden?’ Geralt asked, taking a closer look.
‘Yes. I… I thought he was dead. But a hedgewitch found him and kept him alive. I know he was important to your packmate once. I hoped you’d be willing to allow him to recover here?’
The man that had met him at the door chose that moment to return, carrying what was unmistakably a Witcher’s potion satchel. He handed it to Geralt.
‘I thought you may require this,’ he said.
‘Indeed. Thanks, BB,’ Geralt replied, taking it and immediately rooting around in it. He pulled out a vial of White Raffard’s Decoction and offered it to Gaetan.
‘He’s more likely to take it from you.’
Gaetan took the potion from him, eyeing him warily. He hadn’t agreed yet to let Aiden stay, but offering potions was a good sign, as far as Gaetan could tell.
‘Thanks,’ he said, turning his attention to Aiden.
Getting him propped up enough to feed him the potion without him choking on it was an awkward task to pull off alone, but Geralt left Gaetan to it, talking quietly with his… butler?
Gaetan heard Geralt name some potion ingredients, but ignored him in favour of getting Aiden to drink down the White Raffard’s.
Geralt was kind enough to wait until he was done before turning back to the Cats, his butler-person stepping out of the room again.
‘We’ll get a room ready, and BB is going to send someone into town to get ingredients for more potions. He looks like he’ll need a lot.’
‘I… don’t have much in the way of supplies, but I can help to hunt and I can gather herbs and ingredients if you point me in the right direction. I still have a few basic potions as well,’ Gaetan said, rummaging through his pack and holding out a bundle of celandine that had seen better days and a half vial of Swallow.
‘We can manage for now. You look like you’re near to collapsing yourself. I can have BB show you where the bathing chamber is, or we can bring a tub up to Aiden’s room if you don’t want to leave him.’
Gaetan nodded. ‘I’ll… I’ll stay with Aiden,’ he said, shouldering his pack again. ‘He’s… he might be the only other Cat left out there. I want…’
Geralt clapped him on the shoulder, nodding. When Gaetan looked up, he saw the understanding in Geralt’s eyes. He didn’t have to say it. Witchers were a dying breed, and they’d all seen their schools crumble into nothing.
It didn’t take long for Aiden’s room to be made ready, and Gaetan found himself alone with a bath, a plate of food, and an unconscious brother.
‘Lucky you caught yourself a Wolf, isn’t it?’ he said to Aiden’s slumbering form. ‘We’d be shit out of luck if you’d gone and gotten attached to a Bear, or a Viper. Then where would we go?’
Aiden, predictably, said nothing.
Gaetan sighed and stripped himself out of his armour and his clothes. He dumped them all in a pile as far from the bed as he could manage, wrinkling his nose at the combined stench of old sweat, werewolf blood, Witcher blood, and Velen swamp. Geralt may have had a point about the bath.
The water was warmed to exactly the right level of scalding and he relaxed into it, almost despite himself. The entire situation was so ridiculous as to feel utterly unreal but it was hard not to feel safe with the White fucking Wolf of bloody Rivia standing guard from somewhere on the estate. It wasn’t really likely that anyone was going to try and attack a home granted to a Witcher by the current ruler of the land either. It would be tantamount to political suicide, even if they did survive the attempt. The knowledge was enough to allow Gaetan to relax and scrub the last several weeks of travel and panic and more travel and fighting and travel and magical fucking portals from his skin.
After he’d washed and dried and changed into the only shirt he owned that didn’t have something’s blood on it, he set upon the plate of food, piled high with meats and breads, and a pie that smelled so fucking good that Gaetan wanted to savour it. He left it until last, after he’d cleared the rest of the plate and drained most of the beer that had been set beside it.
Biting into the pie, Gaetan was glad he’d saved it for last. The crust flaked perfectly, and the meat inside was warm, with just the right blend of spices to give it a rich flavour without being overpowering. Geralt must have gotten himself a cook. There was no way he’d made it himself, and the butler seemed too busy running the place to be spending much time in the kitchen.
It might have been the smell that roused him, or perhaps the ever so slightly obscene sound Gaetan made while eating, but Aiden groaned, shifting slightly. Gaetan shot to his feet, crossing the room in the space of a breath.
‘Shh, you’re alright,’ he said, resting a hand on Aiden’s shoulder. ‘I got you to the Wolves, just like I said. Geralt’s gonna write to your boy.’
Aiden groaned again, and went still, asleep once more. Gaetan stroked a hand gently over his hair. The herbalist that had been looking after him had cleaned him and brushed out his hair and it fell in waves across the pillow. Gaetan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Aiden look so well groomed. Even when they’d travelled with the caravan, washing tended to happen in cold streams, or sometimes under a waterfall if they were particularly lucky.
He finished his pie perched next to Aiden on the bed. He didn’t need to be that close to hear his heartbeat but it was reassuring to feel his familiar warmth. They hadn’t been the closest, but Gaetan had looked up to Aiden as a young Witcher. Aiden had always seemed effortlessly competent. To see him so vulnerable was… unsettling. It didn’t feel right to be the one responsible for their continued survival, not when Aiden was so much better than him. Gaetan was so far out of his depth that he felt like he was drowning, and getting to the vineyard had only relieved the smallest amount of pressure.
The sound of footsteps approaching drew him from his thoughts, and Gaetan listened as boots tapped their way quietly along the hall.
‘There’s more food in the kitchen, if you’re still hungry,’ Geralt said softly, knowing he would be heard through the door. ‘Would you rather sleep in there, or have a room prepared for you?’
‘I’ll sleep in here, thank you,’ Gaetan replied at a similar volume. He wanted to stay close to Aiden, but he also didn’t want to cause too much inconvenience to the household.
He slept with a hand resting gently over Aiden’s heart that night, counting the beats as he drifted off to reassure himself that Aiden was alive, and that they were safe.
Aiden grew stronger by the day, healed by inches as they continued to feed him half-measures of potions. He was conscious more often too, though usually delirious while he was awake. In his fevered state, he sometimes spoke, asking for Lambert, or begging for him to be left alone. At times he called for their brothers.
In one of his rare lucid moments, Aiden was able to thank Geralt for his hospitality, and promised him anything he asked in return. Geralt had waved him off, uncomfortable, and had quickly found an excuse to flee the room and leave the Cats alone once more.
Gaetan had been left to tend to Aiden on his own, for the most part, with Geralt only helping when needed. It was enough to keep Gaetan from feeling too much like a freeloader, but knowing that Geralt had so far fed and housed them both, as well as putting forward a not insignificant amount of money in order to keep in stock of everything needed to create the potions Aiden needed, left Gaetan mentally tallying the debt he owed the White Wolf. A debt he knew he could never truly repay.
Things became increasingly complicated when Lambert arrived. He had been hunting a nearby circuit and had made for Corvo Bianco as soon as Geralt’s note had reached him. He burst through the door nearly two weeks after Gaetan and Aiden had arrived and immediately took over Aiden’s care. It wasn’t that Gaetan begrudged him the time with Aiden (although he did, a little) but it left him at a loose end. There were no Witcher contracts in the area, nor did the estate need anyone to hunt game for the pantry. The last time Gaetan had had so much time to himself he’d been recovering from the Grasses. He didn’t really know what to do with himself.
He took to exploring the estate, mapping it out in his mind in order to establish the best vantage points and most covert escape routes. He found a spot amongst the trees where he could watch the road easily and not be seen unless someone were to stand directly beneath his perch, and a twisting path off the estate that would ensure a quick escape that could only be tracked by another Witcher. By the end of his third day of exploration, he was certain that, were someone to come for him here, he would be able to flee before they had even reached the house.
Geralt found him in the tree on the fourth day after Lambert’s arrival.
‘Hm, enjoying the sights?’ Geralt asked, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. ‘BB said some of the workers had seen you skulking around. He’s worried you’re bored now. Made it very clear that it’d make me a bad host to let you get bored.’
Gaetan snickered, shaking his head. ‘Worried I’ll make off with the silverware, more like,’ he said. ‘You went and let some scruffy Cat wander in, and now he’s got to keep an eye out for whatever trouble I might be causing. A little different from all the rest of your strays, aren’t I?’
Geralt tipped his head to the side. ‘You have met Lambert before, right? The idiot who put his muddy boots on the kitchen table the first time he visited and nearly gave BB a heart attack by dropping out the rafters at midnight? If anything, you’ve been significantly less trouble than that.’
‘Think that’s the first time I’ve been called less trouble,’ Gaetan snickered. ‘Feels like I should be trying harder or something.’
‘If you’re bored, I’m sure there’s plenty of things I could find for you to help with. You’re not obligated, of course, but I do want you to feel comfortable here for as long as you want to stay,’ Geralt said.
Gaetan didn’t really know what to do with that one. He’d honestly been expecting the conversation to end with Geralt asking him to leave the estate. Maybe telling him he was too much trouble. Not offering to let him stay as long as he liked. He’d thought he’d already overstayed his welcome, but if Geralt was honest in his offer, then Gaetan wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste. There weren’t really many places he could go, and if he could be of some use to Geralt, then at least he would have a guarantee of food and shelter. To turn him down would be insanity. The trick would be finding a way to repay him.
Gaetan gnawed on the problem for the next few days like it was a piece of particularly well cured jerky. He didn’t have much that he could use to repay Geralt. That was why he was here in the first place. He had no money, no equipment and no skills that Geralt himself didn’t also possess. When it really came down to it, he had nothing other than the clothes he stood up in and a half-dead brother. Geralt wasn’t likely to want a severely injured Cat Witcher and Gaetan had slightly too many morals to try and offer his brother to the White Wolf anyway. Besides, Lambert was likely to bite Geralt for even looking at Aiden.
Actually, that gave him an idea. Geralt was known to enjoy sleeping with strange and dangerous individuals. Gaetan would quite honestly classify himself as strange and dangerous. Maybe not to the level of a sorceress, or a dragon if Lambert’s jokes were to be believed, but still.
Even if it didn’t make them even, a roll in the hay with Geralt wasn’t exactly something Gaetan would turn down. The only question left was how to proposition him. Geralt was famed among Witchers for his morals and he most likely wouldn’t appreciate Gaetan swanning up to him and saying ‘hey, I owe you one, wanna fuck?’ This was going to require some subtlety.
He put his plan into action the very next night. Once Geralt had retired for the evening, Gaetan snuck up the stairs and changed his shirt to one cut just a little tighter and a little lower. He rolled the sleeves and kicked off his boots, leaving his feet bare on the cool wooden floors. He nibbled his lower lip until he was sure it looked pouty and kiss stained and then he slipped back downstairs. This time, when he came up, he made enough noise that Geralt would hear him coming. He meandered along the corridor, seemingly aimless until he came to Geralt’s door, where he paused for a beat, then slipped through.
Geralt glanced up from his book, looked Gaetan up and down, and went back to reading.
That wasn’t the most encouraging start. Gaetan didn’t have a lot of practice being seductive, but he was pretty sure that being ignored in favour of a book was a bad sign.
‘Oops, it seems I’ve found myself in the wrong room,’ Gaetan said, doing that thing he’d seen Kiyan do where he’d make bedroom eyes at someone. He didn’t know how well he was managing, since he hadn’t thought to practice in the damn mirror like he should have. ‘You’re looking awful lonely tonight,’ he added.
Geralt’s lips quirked, but he kept on reading.
‘Perhaps you’d like me to… warm you up?’ he suggested, trying to copy the slow seductive drawl that Axel used when he was on the prowl. It always seemed to work for him.
Geralt finally looked up from his book and Gaetan grinned in triumph, only to frown as Geralt raised one eyebrow at the roaring fire in the hearth.
‘It’s plenty warm enough already, thank you,’ he said, and returned to his reading.
‘Maybe I’m cold,’ Gaetan said, biting his lip. He’d been told back when he was still a trainee to stop doing that, because it made him look ‘damned adorable’, which was a liability on the Path. He’d never tried it before, but hopefully it worked in his favour in the bedroom. .
‘Plenty wood for your fire,’ Geralt said, turning the page of his book.
‘Maybe it’s your wood that I’m looking for?’ Gaetan suggested, fluttering his eyelashes. Ladies in romance novels always seemed to be fluttering their eyelashes.
Geralt put his book down and sighed.
‘Gaetan,’ he said, ‘I’m not going to fuck you because you feel you owe me something. Go to bed. In your own bed.’
It shouldn’t have bothered Gaetan, being dismissed like that, but it stung all the same. It had been just a chore that he needed to take care of, until the moment Geralt had rejected him. Now, it felt surprisingly and painfully personal. Gaetan also couldn’t dismiss the effect Geralt’s stern tone had had on certain areas of his anatomy.
He shuffled off to his room, red-faced and more determined than ever. He was going to get into Geralt’s bed one way or another.
Geralt watched Gaetan retreat, his spine stiff like it had been when Geralt had left him after Honorton. He’d embarrassed the Cat by rejecting him so bluntly, but what else could he have done?
The thought of Gaetan choosing this to ‘pay off his debt’ turned Geralt’s stomach a little. There was no debt, in Geralt’s mind, only the decent thing to do when faced with two more survivors of a dying breed. He’d have helped them both even without the ties between Lambert and Aiden. Without knowing just how desperate Gaetan had to have been to come to him of all people.
It wasn’t that Gaetan was unattractive, or that Geralt had any objections to having him in his bed. It was just that… he couldn’t be sure that Gaetan saw it as anything more than a transaction. Payment given for something Geralt would have done for anyone.
In another life, the Wolves might have been the ones so thoroughly decimated that their youngest was left to beg aid from a School once considered their enemies. The thought of Lambert in Gaetan’s place… Geralt would want for someone to be kind to his brother, if Lambert was the one in such a dire position.
Unfortunately for Geralt’s sanity, Gaetan seemed to take his rejection as something of a challenge. Twice more, he tried blatant flirtation and twice more Geralt turned him down flat. After that, his approach became more subtle. He took to wearing short sleeved shirts and short trousers to walk around the sun drenched estate. His skin lost its sallow, pinched look as he filled out on Marlene’s good cooking. He developed a deep tan. Geralt couldn’t help but notice how much it suited him, particularly when Gaetan seemed to appear every time he turned around.
Then, not content with showing up wherever Geralt was and looking frankly edible, Gaetan started making conversation. Geralt was surprised to discover that the Cat had a keen mind for business and building and he freely offered his opinion on the running of the estate and some of the outstanding repairs. He also appeared to have a particular fondness for landscape painting. He’d spotted some of the artwork BB had purchased for the main rooms and gone off on an hour long lecture about the history and technicality behind the piece. Geralt couldn’t say he particularly cared for art one way or another, but he had found the rant both fascinating and informative. He could have listened to Gaetan lecture on art all day, he realised.
Geralt had been out hunting a katakan that had mistakenly thought he’d gone soft in his old age and had moved in nearby. Apparently a retired Witcher wasn’t something most monsters feared. Maybe now they’d take him a little more seriously.
He was close enough to Corvo Bianco that the potions were still pulsing through him when he made it home. He knew his eyes were black and his skin stark white and lined, but BB and Marlene would both be in bed, so he felt safe enough shedding his swords and armour at the door and padding to his room in his house shoes. He was likely still too keyed up to sleep, but he could meditate by the fire or work through a stretching routine until the potions wore off. Once they had, he’d want to be as close to his bed as possible.
He pushed open the door and stopped short when he noticed a round lump under the blankets. Now that he was paying attention, he realised that one of the three heartbeats in this area of the house was coming from his room, rather than any of the occupied guest rooms. He frowned and stalked closer, hoping that Lambert hadn’t decided to crawl into his bed after a fight with Aiden.
Aiden had started to chafe under all the attention, lately. Becoming more solidly aware of his surroundings led to boredom, and Witchers didn’t make the best patients. He wanted to be up and moving around more than he was really capable of just yet, and Lambert was easily frustrated by Aiden’s impatience.
Stepping closer to the bed, it wasn’t Lambert’s scent he caught, but Gaetan’s.
Geralt’s shoulders loosened as he realised what must have happened. It seemed that Gaetan had decided to wait for him in his room, but had fallen asleep.
The Cat was curled up under the blanket, snoring softly. Geralt knew he’d had trouble sleeping in those first weeks, adjusting to a new environment, and unsure if he was safe. The fact that he’d fallen asleep in Geralt’s bed, and hadn’t woken when Geralt had entered, meant he felt secure in Corvo Bianco. That was what Geralt had hoped to build here, for any Witcher who needed it. He directed one last fond smile at the blanket lump and padded back out the door.
He made his way down to the drawing room and curled up in his favourite armchair. He considered mediating the last of the potions out, but he ended up just sitting and staring into the fire instead. Gaetan in his bed, so soft and trusting in sleep, had knocked something loose in his chest. He’d known that Gaetan was attractive, but there had been no impetus to act on that knowledge when he knew it was simply a debt for Gaetan. This though, this felt like something else. Geralt began to wonder if maybe it felt the same for Gaetan as it did for him. He hoped so.
He heard the shuffling of bare feet on the stair, and turned to the door, where Gaetan appeared, sleep rumpled and yawning.
‘Thought I smelled you,’ Gaetan rumbled, scrubbing at his eye with the heel of one hand.
He looked… comfortable. Wearing just sleep pants and a loose nightshirt, freely showing vulnerability to another Witcher. Geralt wanted to bundle him up in his arms and carry him back to bed.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Geralt said.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed,’ Gaetan replied, smirking a little.
Geralt dipped his head in acknowledgement.
‘What did you intend?’
‘To be honest, I’d hoped you’d be back sooner and you’d be overcome at the sight of me and we could have a tumble.’
Gaetan dropped into the other armchair and yawned widely, showing his pointed teeth. Geralt wanted to coo at the cuteness.
‘I’ve told you,’ Geralt said reluctantly, ‘you don’t owe me anything. I’d have done the same for anyone.’
Gaetan shrugged one shoulder, lazy and boneless. ‘I kind of figured that out by now,’ he said. ‘If you’d wanted something from me, you’d have asked by now. We’ve been here for months.’
Geralt startled at the realisation that it really had been that long. Nearly three months now, since Gaetan had arrived on his doorstep carrying Aiden’s limp form. They’d all come a long way since then.
‘Call it pride,’ Gaetan said, smirking. ‘See, your cruel rejections have wounded me. I might start feeling undesirable if I can’t tempt you after all this.’
Geralt chuckled. ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’
Gaetan moved to stand. ‘So you’ll take me to bed then?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Geralt grinned. ‘See, as attractive as I find you, I’ve come to enjoy your company greatly.’ He sobered and continued, voice deep and serious. ‘Gaetan of the Dyn Marv, I would beg your leave to pay court to you.’
Gaetan gaped at him. Geralt was alarmed to see tears springing to his eyes.
‘Do you mean it?’ Gaetan whispered.
‘Yes,’ Geralt responded simply, letting Gaetan hear his sincerity in his heartbeat.
Gaetan’s lip trembled. ‘I… yeah, okay. Yeah,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t… what do I say? I’ve never… This isn’t…’
Geralt smiled. ‘Yes is enough,’ he said.
‘Then yes. Yes please,’ Gaetan whispered, eyes shining with tears, and something that looked awfully like hope.