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They arrived together. It wasn’t a spoken decision, but an assumed one. Without words, they knew that Geralt would pick Eskel up first from his school, once his last class of the day let out, and then wait for Lambert to weasel his way out of his office job, probably skip a late afternoon meeting, before they made the journey back home.
Well. Home was a subjective term. Sure, it was where they had all been taken in, and raised, but Geralt doubted that any of them would actually consider the place to be home. Hell, the shitty dorm that Geralt and Eskel shared their freshman year of college was more home to him.
But, regardless of their feelings of it, they were making the trip back to the house. Back to Vesemir. It was Thanksgiving, and it was understood that the three of them would go to visit him.
Lambert was struggling with his clothes in the backseat, trying to fight his way out of his button up shirt, complaining about how the collar had been choking him. Eskel, in the passenger seat, was watching this fight with a piece of clothing through the rearview mirror with mild interest. Geralt was content to have all of his focus on the road.
“They let you have hair like that, in cubicle-land?” Eskel goaded. The hair in question, was wild as always, poofed up from Lambert yanking his half-unbuttoned shirt over his head, was bright red, and sticking out in every direction. Lambert scowled, grabbing a wrinkled t-shirt from his backpack and yanking it over his head.
“They think I’m fucking adorable there. Janice in HR keeps dropping hints that I’m going to get a promotion, since I’m such a handsome young man.”
“No shit?” Eskel asked, twisting in his seat. “Congrats, if you do.” Lambert shrugged, already brushing it off.
“It’s hell, it’s boring, but it pays the bills. Plus, Aiden likes to see me dressed up like a fucking businessman.” He grinned wickedly as both Eskel and Geralt made retching noises. “Who knows. Maybe it will make the old man proud.”
For a moment, the only sound in the car was the turn signal clicking. Geralt flexed his hands around the wheel as he got onto the highway. He flicked the turn signal off.
Lambert sighed heavily and obnoxiously, cutting through the sudden tension. “He’ll probably ask if I’m still gay, huh?”
“Probably,” Eskel replied, leaning forward to fiddle with the radio. “I think you could be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and he’d only want to know if you’re dating a nice girl.” Both Geralt and Lambert made small noises of laughter and agreement. “How is Aiden doing?”
“He’s great. The kids adore him, he’s about to win the teacher of the year, and it’s only his first year.” Lambert bragged. He leaned forward, knocking Geralt on the shoulder. “How are your lovers? Jaskier’s been sending me Breaking Bad memes.”
“He’s good.” Geralt said, his grip on the wheel loosening. “Yen’s good too. Both kicking ass. Yen’s been asked to speak at a college for an intersectional feminism panel.”
“She’ll probably raise the IQ level of the family just by association.” Lambert joked. Geralt huffed, the corner of his mouth kicking up. “Did ya get rid of the old Roach-mobile?”
Lambert was referring to the shitty old van that Geralt had bought when he was seventeen. It was disgusting, and old as dirt back then, but Geralt loved that van, and had taken care of it until it ran smoothly.
“No. This is Yen’s car.” Geralt was almost offended at the assumption that he would ever get rid of Roach. He had poured not only years into that van, but also thousands of dollars. Last year, Yennefer had taken him to a used car lot to get something that, in her words “wasn’t an assault on every sense”, but they had left empty handed.
“I was wondering why it was so clean,” Eskel commented, running a finger along the dash. “I was also wondering how you would ever be caught dead in a Prius.”
“Love makes you do crazy things,” Lambert crooned.
“Put your seatbelt on.” Geralt told his younger brother. Lambert rolled his eyes, but complied.
Eskel finally found a radio channel that they all could agree with, and put it on at a low volume.
It took a little over an hour to reach their hometown. Geralt couldn’t help but check on Lambert through the mirror. After their small talk had died down, Eskel had pulled out a small paperback book out of his own bag, and was flipping through, his head leaning against the window. Lambert was alternating between fidgeting in his seat, kicking the back of Eskel’s seat, or messing around on his phone.
None of them were excited to go back to Vesemir’s house. Though they had all grown up to be somewhat decent men, they hadn’t left behind the kindest household.
All of them had different relationships with not only the house, but with the man who lived within it. Vesemir had taken them in, when they were completely unwanted, so Geralt felt as though he was owed some credit at the very least. But Vesemir was a cruel man, when he wanted to be.
It wasn’t until after Geralt started to see both Jaskier and Yen that he ever went to therapy. It was a group effort, championed by both of his partners, but he found it useful, against all of his expectations. It gave him the courage to set boundaries with his adoptive father, and to encourage his brothers to do the same.
That was why they rarely saw Vesemir anymore. Thanksgiving was the one compromise.
Eskel had escaped first. But Geralt was right on his heels, and they lived in the same dorm room for the first year of college. When Geralt dropped out in their second year, they moved into a tiny apartment off campus, with a pull-out couch for Lambert to crash on during the weekends. By the time that Lambert had graduated high school, he had all but moved into the apartment. Geralt set up a folding screen in the living room, and it acted as Lambert’s bedroom for another six months.
It was freedom, for all of them. Though they were strapped for money most of the time, and Lambert would invite his high school boyfriend Aiden over almost every night, and Geralt would wake Lambert up every time he went to his 6am shift at a nearby repair garage, and Eskel was drowning in homework more often than not, they were free.
By the time that Geralt had secured a job with an automobile repair shop with better hours, and better pay, Lambert was getting ready to move in with Aiden (who was getting his teacher’s certificate), and Eskel was almost done with his bachelor’s degree.
Geralt moved in with Yennefer and Jaskier, in a slightly nicer place a few blocks away. Lambert got an office job downtown and started to climb the ranks, while looking into night classes.
Vesemir never came to visit them. One could claim it was because he was old, and didn’t want to travel from the suburbs into a college town, but the brothers knew that Vesemir couldn’t have cared less. Vesemir had a bone to pick with every one of his kids, and he made sure to drill it into them from a young age that it was the boys who were at fault, not him.
So as they grew older, the expected winter break and holiday visits lessened, until the only one that remained was Thanksgiving.
None of the brothers complained about that.
Geralt knew that Aiden had fought to come this Thanksgiving, but Lambert had shot him down. Aiden was perhaps the significant other with the most information about their childhoods, as him and Lambert were friends, and then boyfriends from freshman year of high school, but it was still instinct to shield those who they cared about from their father. Yennefer and Jaskier had only met Vesemir once before, and that was an incredibly tense, and uncomfortable interaction.
“Have you guys talked to him at all?” Lambert spoke up. He was pinching at the skin on his inner wrist, a nervous habit that had stayed with him since childhood.
“A bit,” Eskel responded honestly. Geralt wasn’t entirely surprised by that: if Vesemir was going to talk to any of them, it would be Eskel, the eldest of the house, and the one who is the least of a disappointment. “He’s making a turkey.”
“Hm.”
“The only reason I’m coming home is for his mashed potatoes. He’s a bastard, but he puts something addictive in them.” Lambert continued. “Once he dies, I’m going to find that recipe and post it online.”
“Only if you post it with an essay long sob story about how shit of a father he was first,” Eskel said, making Lambert laugh.
“He’s going to take that recipe to the grave, just to spite you.” Geralt cut in.
“He would do anything, to spite me.” Lambert agreed.
They were getting closer to the house, and as they drew nearer, the tension in the car rose. Eskel had put his book in his lap, and was changing the radio station every few seconds.
“Only a couple of hours. We won’t be spending the night. We’ll eat, listen to him bitch for a while, help clean dishes, and go home.” Eskel was already slipping into his role as the older brother, though him and Geralt were only months apart from each other in age.
“Jaskier wanted to know if you guys wanted to come over once we are back. Him and Yen are doing their own dinner, but they are going to wait for us for dessert.” Geralt offered. They were passing by the high school that they had all attended. Lambert stiffened, and purposely looked out the other window.
“She’s probably going to make some grass vegan shit, huh?” Lambert sighed, as if it was a hardship. “But yeah. Aiden is working on the winter choir setlist for the kids, so if you don’t mind picking him up too, he would be down.”
“Sure.” Eskel said over Lambert’s muttering about vegans and hippies. This was a rant that both brothers had heard before, and Geralt knew that Lambert liked Yennefer, beyond the annoyed front he put up. “If you drop me off at my place first I can whip up something to bring over.”
As they pulled into the neighborhood that they had grown up in, all conversation ceased. Geralt easily parked a few houses away, an old habit from his youth. There the three brothers sat for a few moments.
When Geralt finally turned off the engine, he met Lambert’s eyes in the mirror, and nodded at him. “Just a couple of hours,” he repeated from Eskel’s earlier words. “And then we can go home.”
Vesemir opened the door for them without a word, only a gruff nod and grunt. They filtered into the house quietly, following Vesemir into the living room where a football game was playing.
“You know where the beers are,” Vesemir said, in a way of a greeting. Lambert silently looked at his brothers. Eskel shook his head, while Geralt gave him a small nod. When he came back, he was holding three beers. He handed the first to Vesemir, who took it without a word of thanks, and handed the other to Geralt.
Only a few hours, Geralt reminded himself as he cracked his beer open. Then they would go home.
Though it was tense, the dinner started out decently. Geralt and Eskel idly chatted with Vesemir while Lambert dug into the mashed potatoes like it was his last meal.
“Are you still at that garage?” Vesemir was asking Geralt. Geralt nodded, swallowing a mouthful of dry turkey before speaking.
“No, sir. I got a better opportunity at an auto body paint and repair shop. I am one of the managers now.”
“Any plans to run your own business?” Vesemir stabbed his fork into a pile of cooked greens. “You should be working on becoming your own boss. Have employees who you control, not be the controlled employee.”
“No, sir.” Geralt saw Lambert glance at him out of the corner of his eye. Lambert and Eskel both knew that was a lie as Geralt had been in the process of becoming a co-owner of the shop he worked at for the past six months.
“Get on that. When you get that girl of yours to stop running around, she’s going to want a nice home for lots of kids.”
Lambert choked. When they all turned to him, his face was bright red. He grabbed his water and drank intensely. To anyone else, it would look like Lambert’s shoulders were shaking from his coughing fit, but Geralt knew that he was trying his best to hide laughter.
“Yes sir.” Geralt grit out. That was exactly why he didn’t want his partners to come. Not only would Vesemir flip his shit, if he realized that Geralt was in a committed relationship with two people (not to mention that one of those people is a man), Jaskier would likely dive across the table to choke Vesemir out to defend Yennefer.
Unfortunately, Lambert’s coughing fit seemed to alert Vesemir to his presence. He narrowed his eyes at his youngest.
“And what have you done with your life? I can’t imagine anyone would hire you with hair like that.” Lambert’s hand automatically flew to his head, where he had done his best in the car to comb it into a ponytail.
“I’m a junior research analyst at Corehouse.” Lambert said, hastily adding “sir” to the end. “And I moved into a new place a few months ago, after our old lease ended.”
“Our?” Vesemir caught. Geralt felt himself preparing for a blow up of some sort, almost instinctively. “Tell me you’ve finally settled down with someone nice.”
“Well, sir,” Lambert laughed, though it sounded hollow. “I wouldn’t say that I’ve finally settled, seeing how we’ve been dating for almost seven years now–”
It was Geralt’s turn to clear his throat loudly, sending Lambert a pointed look. His little brother was always too courageous for his own good.
“You might want to think about what you are saying before you speak,” Vesemir warned. “I thought I told you that no son of mine would behave in that way.”
“Dad- sir,” Eskel corrected himself.
“What? You would never disgrace me in that way, would you?” Vesemir said to Eskel. “After I took you boys in, fed and clothed you when no one else would–”
“Get off your high horse about that, would you old man?” Lambert snapped.
“Quiet, boy,” Vesemir all but growled, turning back to Lambert. Geralt felt Eskel beside him sit up straighter, tensing. “You will speak when spoken to.”
“He’s an adult,” Geralt found himself saying. All of his senses were screaming at him to keep quiet, to make himself small so as to not be in the way. “He’s not a boy, and he doesn’t need to wait for you to address him.” Vesemir turned his glare onto Geralt, the stare so harsh it could have burned through the wall.
“If he’s an adult, he should have something to show for it.” Vesemir snapped back. “What does he have? Some prissy bitch back home? Or no—“ Vesemir’s glare turned back to Lambert coolly. “If I remember correctly, you are the bitch.”
“Sir,” Geralt said, but Vesemir was slamming his cutlery down on the plate. Lambert flinched. His face was flushed, but expression grave.
Vesemir didn’t need to lean across the table and hit Lambert. The memory, and the threat of his fist worked well enough.
“Alright,” Eskel cut in, standing up. His chair screeched as he pushed it back, granting enough distraction so Geralt could look away from Vesemir. “Thank you for dinner, sir.”
“Don’t tell me that you are leaving,” Vesemir said as Geralt and Lambert stood up. “You just got here.” That was objectively false, but Eskel shook his head.
“No. We are just going to go for a walk. Don’t worry about cleaning up, we can get the dishes later.”
“A walk.” Vesemir repeated dryly. “Fine.” With that he shoved back from the table as well, and stomped into the living room. The three men stood still until they heard the TV click on, the noise of a football game filtering through the wall.
“Come on.” Eskel said. Lambert was shaking, his face red and fists clenched, but he followed when Geralt tapped his shoulder.
Eskel led them down the block, to the old park that sat on the corner of their street. It had been there since their childhood, though in the past few years it had gotten an upgrade, the wooden and metal structures replaced with brightly colored plastic.
Lambert made a beeline for the swings, sitting down and letting his hands rest on the chains. Geralt slowed his pace, looking at the park, trying to remember what color the previous structure was. Him and Eskel had carved their names into a post one summer night, when they were trying to escape Vesemir’s wrath. Days later, when Lambert caught sight of the carving, he made a fuss until Eskel carved Lambert’s name in there too.
“That sucked ass,” Lambert said, the swing creaking as he swayed on it. “But he did last longer than I expected.”
“We mostly got through the first course,” Eskel agreed. “Need a pick-me-up?” With a small amount of decorum, he revealed a small object from his pocket. Lambert was closer, so he caught sight of it almost immediately, reaching his hands out.
“Oooh, fuck, you are the best,” Lambert said. Geralt came closer, realizing that the object in question was a pre-rolled joint. “You have a light?”
“No, I only brought this out so you could look at it,” Eskel said in a deadpan voice, before tossing a lighter at Lambert. “I thought this might be a necessity for tonight.”
The three took turns passing the joint around. In the late November night, the sun set quickly, as did the chill. A streetlamp flicked on, but all it did was cast long shadows against the park.
Geralt wondered what his brothers were thinking about. Eskel had settled onto the ground, leaning against one of the posts that was holding the swings up. Eskel was the one who had introduced Geralt to weed, and then the two of them had both passed it along to Lambert. Geralt didn’t get high as often as he did when he was living with Eskel and Lambert, but still enjoyed it from time to time.
In his current age, it was Jaskier who enjoyed getting high the most. Yennefer preferred wine, though there was that one very memorable night when she had let Jaskier teach her how to shotgun. But that was besides the point.
Just thinking about it made Geralt miss his partners, even though he had seen them that very morning, and would see them the next day. Weed always tended to make him melancholy, so he forced himself out of his own head, and stared up at the stars.
“I’ll tell him that we aren’t coming back.” Eskel said after a long exhale, passing the joint to Lambert. Geralt raised an eye at his brother, even as Eskel stood up, brushing wood chips off of his jeans. “He’ll take it better from me.”
Geralt briefly considered protesting, but bit his tongue. They weren’t kids anymore. It was a good idea for Eskel to go too, because he was so much larger than Ves, that even the old man wouldn’t try anything, not like when they were kids.
“Tell him if he wants to see my gay ass next Thanksgiving, he’s got some sucking up to do.” Lambert snarked, blowing smoke into the night sky.
“I can’t drive us home,” Geralt pointed out. Lambert had taken the most hits out of the three of them, with Geralt taking the least, but he wasn’t about to risk his brothers’ lives. “But we probably could sleep in the car.”
Eskel shrugged, and Geralt could almost read his mind: we’ve slept in worse places before.
Lambert’s expression suddenly lit up, barely visible in the darkening night. “Can we–”
“No, we cannot hotbox Yennefer’s Prius.” Geralt answered, before Lambert could even finish. “She would kill all of us painfully and slowly.”
“Ger,” Eskel said, as he began to walk away. “Don’t let the little one run into traffic. I’ll be back in a bit. Want me to bring the car back?” Geralt nodded, tossing him the keys. While sleeping in the car was going to be bad, sleeping in the car that was parked in front of Vesemir’s house would have been worse. It was only a few blocks away, so he felt fine with Eskel driving the short distance.
Lambert was still protesting the little one title as Eskel disappeared into the night.
Geralt kept one eye on Lambert, who was still gently pushing himself back and forth on the swing, staring up at the stars. The town they lived in was small, but Vesemir’s house could almost be considered rural with how out of the way it was. You could see the stars much better out here than anywhere else that Geralt had been.
His phone buzzed in his hand. He had sent Yennefer and Jaskier a message, letting them know that he wouldn’t be coming home tonight. They were understandably confused and concerned, but when Geralt explained the situation, and the joint that was still being passed around, Yennefer agreed that he should stay where he was.
Yen : if i get a call from the local jail telling me to come pick up you three, dont expect me to come running
Jaskier : lol
Jaskier : i mean yeah dont get arrested pls that would be a bummer
Jaskier : would you like y + i to come pick u up? i could take roach and yen can take the prius back home
Yen : we could put you all in roach and roll the windows down. eliminates the need to get the prius detailed after you guys hotbox it
Geralt : we are not going to hotbox it. lambert already asked, and i said no
There was the noise of a car approaching. Geralt looked up from his phone to see Eskel pulling up in the Prius next to the sidewalk. He parked under the lone streetlamp, and got out. Geralt waited until he heard the beep of the car locking before going back to his phone.
Geralt : traffic might be bad. dont worry about us, we will be okay
Jaskier : WRONG answer we are worried about you
Yen : more worried to leave you and your brothers high and unsupervised because god knows what trouble you could get into
Jaskier : i was going to say because we love you but yeah that too
“Catch,” Eskel said, tossing the keys back to Geralt. Geralt let them fall on his chest, still squinting at his phone. He was only at the beginning of his buzz, but he knew from past experience that his texting skills would only get worse from here.
“How’d the old man take it?” Lambert asked, as Eskel settled himself back in his previous spot. Eskel shrugged, taking the joint that Lambert offered him.
“Fine. Pissed, but he didn’t even get off the couch.”
“Yen and Jaskier want to know if they need to come pick us up.” Geralt reported, holding his phone up. Eskel shrugged noncommittally.
“They don’t have to. Traffic might be bad, it’s Thanksgiving night still.”
Geralt’s phone buzzed again.
Jaskier : yen has decided that if something happens to you guys, like you get eaten by a bear or an hoa president, it would technically be our fault so we r coming to get you
Jaskier : hang tightht text yen if you need anything im going to go start up the car
“They are coming.” Geralt reported, after sending a thumbs up emoji.
“He always fuckin’ thinks he’s owed the world or something,” Lambert was saying to Eskel. Eskel nodded, taking another hit before passing the joint back to Geralt. “Like, good for you, you took in three fucked up orphans and fucked them up even more. Let’s throw a party.”
“Yup.”
“Fuck him, seriously.” Lambert continued. “If he thinks I’m going to go to his funeral, let alone next Thanksgiving, he’s got another thing coming. I’m gonna stay home with Aiden and help his class make those paper hand turkeys.”
“Those were always fun,” Geralt murmured, thinking about the hand drawn turkeys. It was the best that he could add to the conversation, at the moment.
“So much fucking fun,” Lambert echoed. “Pass it.” Geralt obeyed. “Did you guys know that sometimes Aiden will have me test out his class activities before he gives them to his students?”
“You are a similar group, maturity wise.” Eskel plucked the joint out of Lambert’s hands before he could take another hit.
“Boo,” Lambert called, sticking his tongue out at Eskel. Eskel smirked.
“Do you think they could pick up McDonalds for us?” Lambert asked, some time later. They were all past the point of buzzed, but Lambert was undoubtedly the most faded. He had slid out of the swing seat, and was laying flat on his back in the wood chips. Geralt shrugged. Sitting on the ground, propped up against a structure beam for the slide, wasn’t the most comfortable position, but at least he wasn’t going to get wood chips in his hair, like Lambert most certainly was.
“Maybe. If you ask nicely. If Jaskier drives us.”
“I would fucking kill for some french fries right now,” Lambert moaned.
“Same,” Eskel agreed.
“A McFlurry,” Geralt said, making both of his brothers groan.
“An Oreo McFlurry. I could destroy one of those right now.” Lambert flapped a hand at Geralt. “Text them. Text them and tell them that we need McDonalds.”
“I”m not going to text them,” Geralt grumbled. “Jaskier is driving.” In truth, he just didn’t know where his phone was. It could have been in one of his jean pockets, but he wasn’t really sure, since he couldn’t really feel his body. “Ask them when they get here.”
“Fine,” Lambert drew out the word, clearly pouting. “Oh fuck.”
Geralt looked at Lambert, a spike of concern working through the haze.
“What?”
“Some of that bastard’s mashed potatoes would hit so hard right now.” Lambert looked despondent, his hands dragging down his face. Eskel chuckled, reaching out to pat Lambert on the shoulder.
“Sorry, little brother.”
“M’ not little,” Lambert bit back, but he didn’t push Eskel away.
“Fuck, remember the first time we got high?”
“You mean the first time you got high?” Geralt corrected. “That wasn’t Eskel and I’s first time.”
“Yeah,” Lambert said with a smile in his voice. “That was fun.”
“Was that when you came to spend the weekend in our dorm? And you got so high that you had to lay on the carpet in total silence for an hour?” Eskel checked. “Just making sure we are talking about the same thing, because I don’t remember that being fun. I remember thinking that I would have to call an ambulance or something.” Lambert waved a hand in the air, as if dismissing those claims.
“Nonsense. I remember watching you guys playing Mario Kart, and then…” Geralt looked up to see Lambert scrunching his nose. “Was Aiden there? I remember Aiden being there, but I don’t know why.”
“You video-called him, cried when he didn’t pick up, and then called him another ten times.” Geralt recounted.
“You bit me when I tried to take your phone away from you.” Eskel reminded. By now, the joint was being passed between only Eskel and Geralt.
“He picked up eventually, didn’t he?” Lambert said in a dreamy-like voice. “I love him.”
“Thank God he loves you too,” Geralt muttered. Eskel caught his gaze and nodded, raising the smoldering joint in a pseudo-toast.
“I’m going to suck his dick tonight,” Lambert declared both loudly and proudly. Geralt and Eskel groaned loudly. Geralt reached out to smack his little brother in the chest. “What?”
Thankfully, at that moment, a familiar rumbling and wheezing came down the street. Geralt slowly pushed himself to his feet as Roach pulled up right behind the Prius. It just barely rolled to a stop before Jaskier was throwing the door open, and rushing over to Geralt.
Yennefer took her time coming over, but smiled when she reached the three of them (four, as Jaskier launched himself at Geralt for an embrace).
“Boys,” she greeted. Eskel nodded at her, while Lambert did a stupid hand salute. “How are you feeling?”
“I have wood chips in my pants,” Lambert told her. Eskel snorted. “Can you get us McDonalds?”
“Hi lover,” Jaskier was saying to Geralt, dropping little kisses all over his face.
“Hm,” Geralt felt a tension he hadn’t realized was in his shoulders release at his partners’ arrival. He could relax, at least a bit more.
“We hit a spot of traffic on the way here, but it should be cleared up by now,” Yen recounted. “So get your faded asses in the van.”
“Roachmobile, my most beloved,” Lambert crooned. “You know Aiden, he’s my other most beloved. I should text him. Have you talked to him?” He asked this question to Yen, after Eskel had pulled him to his feet.
“I sent him a message before we left.” Jaskier replied after he had climbed off of Geralt. “You could probably call him when we are on the road.”
“Yay,” Lambert drawled.
Yennefer paused beside Geralt, once Eskel and Lambert began to amble towards the van. Geralt patted his pockets until he found the keys to the Prius, which he gladly handed over.
“Doing alright?” She checked, inspecting Geralt’s face. He nodded, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was the truth. He was okay, his brothers were okay, and his partners were here. There wasn’t much more that he could ask for.
Yen reached out, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear, before resting her palm on his cheek. “Good, then. I’ll take the Prius, Jask will get you home safely.”
“Mm.” Geralt stopped walking long enough to press a kiss to Yennefer’s lips. “Thanks for coming to pick us up.”
Yennefer rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
“No funny business,” she then said to Lambert and Eskel. Eskel had started to drag the sliding door of the van open, forgetting that the right side door was broken. He struggled with it for a few moments before giving up.
“Can we get McDonalds?” Lambert asked again.
“Yes, yes, we can get McDonalds. Eskel, you either have to go in on the other side, or crawl in through the back,” Jaskier called.
“Shotgun!” Lambert yelled, his voice echoing down the street. Jaskier was already shaking his head.
“Nope. Geralt gets shotgun on the basis of I love him and he has a cute ass.” Eskel stopped trying the door, pretending to gag and throw up on the sidewalk. Lambert’s pout was visible from across the field.
“Are you saying that his ass is cuter than mine? I don’t think that’s true.”
Yennefer sighed loudly, over Jaskier’s insistence regarding his bias. She pressed a kiss to Jaskier's cheek next, and wished him safe travels.
“If you guys aren’t home in two hours I am calling every McDonalds in a one hundred mile radius until I find you.” Yennefer threatened, walking to the Prius. Lambert gave her another one of those dumb salutes.
“Aye, aye, madam.”
Jaskier walked over to the back of the van, swinging open the barn doors. He grabbed both Eskel and Lambert by the shirts, and herded them in.
Geralt waved at Yen as she turned on the Prius, and started to pull into the street. He then forced himself into the passenger seat, groping along the door until he found the seatbelt.
He heard the back doors of the van slam shut, while Eskel and Lambert bickered with each other over who got to sit where.
“Thank you Geralt, for putting your seatbelt on,” Jaskier praised, once he was settled in his own seat. Geralt couldn’t resist the smile from spreading across his face, nor did he stop himself from turning around and flipping his brothers off. Lambert scowled at him, as he slapped the seat around him, still looking for his seatbelt. Eskel had given up on clicking the seatbelt in, and had pulled two separate belts across his chest. He then apparently promptly passed out, his face smashed against the window of Roach.
As Jaskier coaxed the van to life, Geralt leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. Jaskier would wake him up once they got to McDonalds, he knew.