Chapter Text
Lambert was crouched by a tree rubbing relict oil on his sword when someone cleared their throat behind him.
No one could sneak up on him except another witcher, and whichever witcher it was had announced his presence, meaning he was unlikely to attack. Lambert didn’t give them the satisfaction of startling, only turned slowly, casually, expecting perhaps Geralt, over-mutated freak that he was.
But it was an unfamiliar man: keen yellow-green eyes and dark, wavy hair that gave him a rakish look, with a moustache and a neatly trimmed beard. His lithe and lean form was clad in light armor, built for speed and maneuverability and of excellent quality. Even before Lambert’s eyes landed on the medallion, he knew what the other witcher was.
“Cat.” Lambert nodded, then turned back to his sword, seemingly unconcerned. He finished up with the relict oil, but kept an ear out for motion.
After a moment, the other witcher said, “Aiden.”
Lambert didn’t bother answering. He efficiently packed away his supplies, swung his bag onto his shoulder, and set off down the trail. To Lambert’s great annoyance, the other witcher hurried after him and fell into step beside him.
“Name’s Aiden. School of the Cat, which you already know.” He was smiling at Lambert, like he expected some kind of friendly answer from the witcher whose contract he was trying to steal. “And you are?”
“Lambert. Wolf. So pleased to make your acquaintance.” Lamber paused to perform an elaborate bow, then gave Aiden an emphatic two-finger salute and started walking again. “And now you can fuck right off.”
“Don’t think I will.” Aiden walked beside him. “I heard the village headman say there’s a fiend here. That’s a two-man job, easily.”
“You think I can’t handle a single fiend on my own?” Lambert sneered.
“I’m saying it’d be easier with two,” Aiden said with a shrug.
Well, the man wasn’t wrong, but that was beside the point. Lambert was not hunting with a stranger. “I’m not sharing the fee. It’s shit money to begin with.”
“And you don’t mind risking your life against a fiend for shit money?”
“That’s the gig, buddy.” Glamorous life of a witcher. Just an endless parade of contracts for not enough pay, crowds of sneering, suspicious villagers, and a burnt-out wreck of a keep full of shitty memories to hunker down in over the winter. Lambert quickened his pace. “Go find your own monster.”
Aiden slowed, then stopped, letting Lambert continue without him. Which, ok, Lambert hadn’t actually expected him to fuck off when asked, so that was a pleasant surprise. Maybe that’s why when Aiden called, “Lambert!” he actually stopped, though he stopped himself from turning back to look.
“What?”
“Good luck,” Aiden said.
Lambert glanced back to see a smile on the other witcher’s face, then turned back to the trail and strode off towards his prey.
--
Lambert rolled, but when he came up, the fiend had moved faster than he’d expected. It stood right before him, fixing him with its third eye. Lambert froze, then swayed a little on his feet as the eye filled all his vision.
Stupid mistake. Lambert knew better to stop moving long enough for a fiend to hypnotize him. But somehow that didn’t seem to matter at the moment. Nothing seemed to matter. He could feel the warmth of its body getting closer, hear the rasp of its foul breath, and he couldn’t move.
Then the monster screamed in pain, and Lambert staggered back, his vision clearing in time to see a crossbow bolt standing out of the monster’s now-useless third eye. Lambert whipped his head around to see Aiden perched in a tree at the edge of the clearing, calmly reloading his crossbow.
Lambert swung back into motion, hammering relentlessly at the fiend and dodging its attacks until it began to slow. He had this. He would have had it even without help, though of course there was a chance that being hypnotized really would have been one mistake too far. And a witcher only needed to make one mistake to become a dead witcher. He concentrated on staying one step ahead of the monster and did not look at the Cat. If the man wanted to shoot Lambert in the back, he would, and then at least Lambert wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of having been killed by a single fiend.
Lambert might have indulged in a few more vicious slashes than were really necessary to make sure the thing was dead, but he wouldn’t leave anything to chance. This was his kill, no matter what that smug Cat thought. He couldn’t afford to settle for half the fee for this job, so if the Cat insisted on payment, it’d have to be something else.
Lambert’s mind skittered away from that thought. He set about chopping the fiend’s head from its body before harvesting the other useful bits.
He was filling a pouch with fragments of broken bone when the Cat appeared at the edge of his vision. His crossbow was packed away, and he was observing the monster corpse with a satisfied smile. “We make a good team, you and I.”
“I didn’t fucking ask for your help!” Lambert snapped. He wrenched another piece of bone out of the mangled carcass and clenched his teeth.
“It looked like you needed it.” Aiden’s smile widened.
“I had things under control,” Lambert muttered. He probably would have shaken off the hypnosis in time to defend himself. Probably. But he hunched further over the carcass, hiding his face.
“Did you.” Aiden sounded amused. Not disbelieving, not even angry, just… like he was sharing a joke.
Lambert whirled around and glared at him. He wanted to stab something, preferably this arrogant little shit.
“You could say thank you.” Aiden raised an eyebrow, and his smile didn’t fade.
Oh, right. Suddenly, Lambert knew where the familiar sinking feeling was coming from. The Cat hadn’t said anything about the contract money yet, but when did anyone ever do a favor for Lambert unless they wanted something in return?
“Right.” He could kill this witcher. Well, maybe not right now. His potion stock was low, and that fight had taken quite a bit out of him, while the Cat had just watched from the trees. And Cats were tricky. Aiden wouldn’t hesitate to press his advantage in an unfair fight. Lambert said tightly, “You want me to thank you.”
“It’d be nice.”
“You promise you’ll go away if I do?” Lambert asked. He turned back towards the fiend carcass, but didn’t bother to continue his pretense of harvesting ingredients. He’d as good as admitted he’d accommodate the Cat. If he couldn’t fight the man, and couldn’t afford to pay him off, he had little alternative.
“I’m comfortable here, actually.” Aiden leaned against the furred bulk of the fiend, and crossed his arms over his chest like he was settling in for a lazy afternoon on a riverbank.
Lambert’s face flushed as anger choked him. The fucking arrogance. Like Aiden had not a worry in the world about making Lambert give him what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Well, Lambert was not going to spend the rest of the day watching his back with that awful twisting knot in his stomach as he dreaded what was to come.
“I’m not sitting around waiting for you to collect on your fucking thank you. I’m leaving.” Lambert pulled shut the drawstring on the bag of parts and shoved it in his saddlebag, which he hoisted onto his shoulder. He gave one last regretful look to the rest of the corpse, then turned and started for his horse.
“You haven’t harvested the teeth yet.” Aiden said. He took two steps after Lambert, still with that smug fucking grin. “The teeth are the most valuable part.”
“I know the teeth are the--” Lambert huffed out a breath. He needed the money. But not that badly. “Fine. Why don’t you take the teeth. As a thank you.”
“That’s not what I want as a thank you.”
Of course. Of fucking course. It never was. Lambert dropped his saddlebags, rounded on Aiden, and stomped right up to him. The man looked positively delighted, yellow-green eyes alight as if in anticipation. Lambert just wanted this fucking over.
He dropped to his knees and yanked at the fastenings on Aiden’s trousers. He’d show this asshole “thank you.” Make him come in three minutes flat and be able to talk shit about Cat witchers for years. The bastard was already hard in his unnecessarily tight leather breeches. And if Lambert was too, well, that was just what happened after a fight.
“Wait.” Aiden grabbed Lambert’s wrists and dragged his hands away.
Lambert scowled up at him. “If you’re expecting me to beg, or call you ‘sir’ or some shit, fuck off.”
Aiden folded to his knees gracefully, so he was eye to eye with Lambert, still holding onto him. “This isn’t what I meant by saying thank you.”
Lambert clenched his jaw. Aiden needed to stop being coy and just come out and say it. He wanted Lambert under him, wanted to fuck him, really show Lambert how above him he was.
Lambert didn’t want to get fucked. For one thing, he didn’t have any proper oil. Used the last of it with that Redanian duke in exchange for pardoning the son of Lambert’s client, who hadn’t even killed the stags he’d been accused of poaching, because of course it had been a fucking griffin. Definitely more work than Lambert bargained for when he took the contract. And yeah, ok, getting fucked dry wasn’t going to kill him, but he had a long way to ride tomorrow and obviously Aiden wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
Lambert ripped his hands out of Aiden’s grip and held them clenched at his sides. Not defensive. He just didn’t want Aiden touching him. He could smell that Aiden was aroused. It wasn’t some fucking mystery what Aiden wanted from him. There was no need to make a big production of it.
Lambert pushed to his feet, and Aiden rose with him. “Just say what you fucking want, Cat. I don’t have time for this. What, are blow jobs not good enough for you?”
Several expressions flashed across Aiden’s face in quick succession, and Lambert couldn’t read any of them.
“I just… say the words,” Aiden said quietly. “Out loud. Say ‘thank you.’”
“Thank you,” Lambert spat. If it was going to be like this, wanting to puppet Lambert’s every move, it was going to be a long fucking night.
“You are very welcome, Lambert.” Aiden looked at him for a long moment, and then turned and said over his shoulder, “I’ll see you around.”
He strode over to his horse while Lambert stood blinking after him. Aiden mounted in one smooth movement, gave a quick wave, and turned his horse back towards the road, leaving Lambert behind.
That was the first time.