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Aiden thinks he and the world’s most short-tempered Wolf have reached an…accord, of sorts. They have both acknowledged that they do, in fact, work well together: Aiden’s acrobatic style and precise Signs complement Lambert’s viciously efficient swordsmanship and astonishingly effective bombs and potions marvelously. Traveling together and splitting contracts means that they both get hurt less often, which offsets the fact that they have to split the coin, too. Aiden can cook actual meals and charm people into charging them lower prices; Lambert can mend leather and make potions far more effective than anything Aiden was taught in Stygga. They’ve had some interesting spats about what’s acceptable behavior (touching Lambert’s hair: no; calling Aiden ‘kitty’: also no) and have worked them out with a minimal amount of bloodshed.
So Aiden, if asked by some outside observer, would say that he and Lambert are friends. Good friends, even, as far as Aiden is concerned; he is endlessly delighted by Lambert’s profane, marvelously well-researched rants about alchemy or monster lore or the idiocy of various political decisions of days gone by. He is rather charmed by the fact that Lambert can’t cook to save his life. He adores the speed and precision and vicious beauty of Lambert’s fighting style. He’d call Lambert his dear friend without any hesitation. And he’s pretty sure Lambert would admit to…well, to tolerating him. Even to enjoying his company, if the Wolf was drunk enough to talk about emotions without stabbing someone. Certainly Lambert has come to meet Aiden where Aiden said he’d be waiting, every spring now for five years straight. It would have been very easy for him to just go elsewhere and avoid Aiden completely, but every spring, there he is in the Crooked Crown tavern, glowering at the bartender and grumbling about the mud.
Aiden has some hope that someday, years down the line - three at his most optimistic estimate, more probably at least five - they might end up falling into bed together. Assuming they both live that long, which, now that they’re walking the Path together, is more likely than it would have been otherwise. He suspects Lambert will be a delight in bed, all teeth and competence.
But all of this is to say that he is not expecting Lambert - prickly Lambert, guarded Lambert, entirely too handsome Lambert - to look across the coals of their most recent campfire and blink, slow and lazy, when he sees Aiden looking back.
Aiden freezes.
Does he mean that?
He can’t mean that.
Oh gods, what if he does? What if he’s gone and - and - Aiden isn’t even there yet! He’s pretty sure he’ll get there, Lambert is exactly the sort of puzzle he’s looking forward to spending the rest of his life untangling, layers upon layers waiting to be explored, and also he’s brilliant and gloriously dangerous and has a tongue sharper than his swords, but Aiden’s not there yet. He learned to guard his heart as sternly as any other Cat, lest the overstrong emotions given to them by their experimental mutagens cause even more problems than usual.
How has Lambert beaten him there?
“What the fuck,” Lambert says roughly. “What’s gotten up your ass, Cat?”
“What?” Aiden says, still reeling.
“What the actual fuck is your scent doing? It’s gone all the fuck over the place, and your heartrate’s twice what it should be.”
Aiden glares at him. “Well, that’s your fucking fault, isn’t it?”
“How the absolute hell is any of this my fault? I haven’t even said a damn thing in half an hour!” Lambert makes a spectacularly rude gesture; Aiden snarls.
“You blinked at me!”
There’s a pause. Lambert’s jaw sags slowly open and he makes a faint garbled sound before he regains coherency.
“What the bleeding fuck? Since when is blinking at you off limits, you daft prick? What, a cat can look at a king but I’m not allowed to even lay eyes on you?”
“Shut up!” Aiden seethes, temper fraying further with every moment.
“Make me!” Lambert snaps.
Aiden yowls and launches himself over the glowing coals; Lambert rolls with the tackle and puts his greater strength and weight to use, tumbling them over until he’s sprawled atop Aiden, pinning his hands to the ground and trapping his legs. Aiden writhes uselessly. Lambert’s fingers close even tighter around his wrists; there will be bruises there, at least for a little while.
Lambert is heavy enough that breathing takes effort, and something about the weight makes the flashfire anger drain from Aiden’s chest, leaving him panting and a little dazed.
“What the hell, Aiden?” Lambert asks, frowning down at Aiden with more confusion than rage on his face. “Blinking? Really?”
Aiden sighs and lets himself go limp. “I - did you mean it?”
There’s a pause, Lambert’s frown growing deeper. “Did I mean what, precisely?” he says at last.
Oh.
Oh shit.
Aiden licks his lips. “What - ah - if one Wolf blinks at another, what does that mean?”
One of Lambert’s eyebrows rises. “Uh. Not a fucking thing, far as I know.” His other eyebrow joins the first. “What does it mean when Cats do it?”
Aiden closes his eyes as a wave of mortification washes through him.
“What the hell,” Lambert says, sounding very confused indeed. “What the absolute fuck did you think I was saying to you?”
Aiden swallows. “Don’t suppose we can just call this some unavoidable inter-School miscommunication and let it go?”
“Hell no.” Lambert somehow makes himself heavier. “I want to know what the fuck you think I said. Shit, is blinking how Cats tell each other to fuck off or something?”
Aiden shakes his head. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell Lambert’s actually going to drop this, he knows. The Wolf is - well, rather like a dog with a bone sometimes.
“No? I can keep guessing. Lemme think. Does it mean your prick’s hanging out of your trousers? Your beard looks like shit? What?”
Aiden takes a deep breath and doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t want to see Lambert recoil in horror. “It means - means you love the person,” he chokes out through a throat that feels dry as the Zerrikanian desert.
Lambert’s hands spasm on Aiden’s wrists and then he lets go and rolls away. Aiden lies still, eyes still tightly closed, and waits for the sounds of Lambert packing his things and leaving.
They don’t come. Instead, Lambert says, very quietly, “Well, hell, didn’t know you’d hate it that much if I did.”
Aiden’s eyes fly open and he sits up fast to see his Wolf sitting an arm’s length away, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, looking oddly vulnerable for such a big and dangerous man. The words fall out of Aiden’s mouth without any thought. “I wouldn’t - I didn’t - that’s not -”
“Fuck off, moggy,” Lambert sighs.
“No wait listen to me,” Aiden blurts, scrambling closer until he can kneel in front of the Wolf, hands outstretched. “I just - didn’t think you’d get there before me, is all.”
Lambert’s jaw drops and he uncurls slightly. “Before you?”
“Well, yeah.” Aiden shrugs helplessly. “I’m gonna fall for you, if we keep walking the Path together. You’re pretty much irresistible. I’m just not there yet.”
Lambert makes a very funny sputtering sound. “Irresistible?”
“Yes? Smart, competent, loyal, vicious, handsome - should I go on?”
Lambert is staring at Aiden like he’s never seen him before. “Foul-mouthed, short-tempered, stubborn -”
“Yes,” Aiden interrupts. “All of that. I like all of that.”
Lambert is back to open-mouthed gawping. Aiden settles back on his heels with a huff. “Anyway. That’s - obviously that isn’t what you meant, but I just -”
“Why obviously?” Lambert grumbles.
Aiden pauses, mouth open, thinks about that for a moment, and then says carefully, “Well, I was definitely under the impression we were friends.”
Lambert huffs. “You think I let people I’m not fucking friends with put their hands in my damn guts, moggy?”
“I would prefer not to have to sew up your damn guts again, actually, but I take your point.” Aiden eyes Lambert warily. “Anyhow, I was pretty sure we were friends, but I didn’t think - well, Wolves aren’t known for being very good at emotions.”
Lambert snorts. “We’re not all as emotionally constipated as fucking Geralt.”
“No, but you’re a lot more comfortable being a prick than letting on that you actually enjoy someone’s company,” Aiden points out. “So I figured it might take me - well, bluntly, I wasn’t expecting me to get there for at least another year or two, and I was figuring I’d be pining for a while before you got there, if you ever did.”
“Such faith you’ve got in me,” Lambert says very dryly.
“I’ve got plenty of faith in you. I’ve drunk your potions and let you stitch me up and given you my back in battle. Just…y’know. Emotions aren’t something most Schools are trained in.” Aiden shrugs. “To be fair, Cats are mostly trained in not letting ‘em get the better of us. I’m not claiming I’m any fucking better at having ‘em than any other witcher on the Path.”
Lambert snorts. “Fair enough. And I guess you’re not wrong. I’m not there yet.” He glances away and rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “But…like you said. I can see it coming. You’re pretty fucking irresistible your own damn self, grimalkin.”
Aiden poses, preening. “Tell me more.”
“Fuck no, you know exactly how pretty you are, you vain bastard,” Lambert grumbles.
Aiden laughs. “I’ll take it,” he allows, relaxing into a more comfortable position again. “So we’re…not there yet. But we both know that’s where we’re going?”
Lambert nods curtly, meeting Aiden’s eyes. “Sooner or later, yeah.”
“Right.” Aiden breathes out a long sigh. “Huh. Uh. Sorry for…losing my shit like that.”
Lambert snorts. “Always knew you were a couple peas short of a pod, moggy, that’s no surprise.”
Aiden makes a rude gesture at him, and Lambert makes a ruder one back, and they volley increasingly filthy gestures back and forth until they both fall over laughing, and by the time they find their bedrolls, Aiden is pretty much back on an even keel.
*
Two years later, Lambert meets Aiden’s eyes across their little fire, and slowly and deliberately blinks, just once.
Aiden launches himself across the coals again, but this time when he tackles Lambert, it’s for a biting, messy, gloriously perfect kiss, because yes.
This time, Aiden is absolutely ready to be loved.