a Hayden finds out fic, to celebrate @shanehollanderjpg 's birthday! 🥳 Happy happy birthday zo!! Thanks for coming up with this premise for me 🫶
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Hayden can see Jackie slowly losing the pieces of her sanity in real time as Ruby whines and clings at Jackie’s shirt. “Mom, I need Chompy,” Ruby cries.
Hayden rubs at his temples, meeting Jackie’s exhausted gaze. She has her teeth clenched and a smile pasted on her face. It’s 9 in the morning, which is definitely too early for this. Ruby was so exhausted when she got home from being babysat by Shane’s yesterday that she didn’t notice Chompy was missing before she fell asleep. Unfortunately, she has definitely noticed now. Fuck, when is Hayden going to learn to make sure Chompy is in hand before they leave anywhere?
“How about you and I go see Uncle Shane and get Chompy?” Hayden offers, before Jackie kills all of them and then herself.
Ruby’s tears immediately dry. Thank you, Jackie mouths, petting a hand through Arthur’s hair as she holds him. Jade is miraculously still asleep. Sighing, Hayden gives Jackie a peck on the mouth before grabbing his keys.
He helps Ruby put on her coat before herding her out the door and to the minivan. She pounds on the car seat with her tiny fists as Hayden fastens her in. “Ready to go rescue Chompy from Uncle Shane?” Hayden asks, with the most serious look on his face that he can manage.
Ruby cheers, and Hayden can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. Damn, he and Jackie make cute kids. Hayden tries his best to close his ears to the kid’s CD that plays as Ruby mumbles along. Shortly, he’s searching for street parking around Shane’s apartment. He snags a spot and retrieves Ruby, holding her hand as they make their way to the apartment entrance.
Hayden lets Ruby press the buttons for the elevator, and they both wait impatiently to arrive on Shane’s floor. Ruby bounces along as they walk down the hallway to Shane’s door. This definitely qualifies as a catastrophe for Ruby at least, so Hayden already has his emergency key to Shane’s apartment out when he hears it. It’s a weird, muffled sound, almost like… whimpering? Then he hears Shane shout in a strangled sort of way, and that’s when he gets really freaked out. Is Shane hurt? He lives by himself, who knows what awful things could happen and how long Shane would be alone before someone came to help him. “Shane?” Hayden calls, twisting his key in the lock. “Shane! Are you okay?”
There’s a clatter from inside the apartment. “I’m fine!” Shane yells.
“Dude, you do not sound fine. I’m coming in!” He bursts into Shane’s apartment, grabbing Ruby’s hand and pulling her in after him.
After the door is already open, it occurs to Hayden to hope that Ruby’s not about to see, like, one of Shane’s fingers on the ground after a horrific kitchen accident. Hayden whips his head around, but he doesn’t see Shane. “Shane?” he calls again.
“Don’t come in!” Shane shouts from the bedroom.
“Stay here and don’t move,” Hayden tells Ruby.
Her eyes widen with seriousness, and she nods.
Hayden makes his way back to Shane’s bedroom. His hand hesitates over the door knob. “Shane, you’re really freaking me out. I’m worried about you. I can drive you to the hospital. I won’t laugh at you if you hurt yourself in an embarrassing way.” Hayden jiggles the door knob.
“Hayden, please just go away,” Shane begs from the other side of the door, as the scuffling continues inside the room.
“I’m not going anywhere until I make sure you’re okay.”
At this point, Hayden has no idea what could be wrong with Shane, but he knows how Shane is. He’s always trying to push people away, never ready to admit he needs help or just conversation to get himself out of his head. Hayden has never let Shane push him away; that’s why they’re such good friends.
The door knob starts to turn, and Hayden lets go of his side of it. The door opens to reveal Shane, looking flushed and wearing basketball shorts and a … Raider’s t-shirt? “Okay, now I really know you have a head injury,” Hayden says, pushing past Shane into his room, eyes scanning to make sure there’s not a puddle of blood somewhere and Shane’s about to collapse on him.
“What are you talking about?” Shane asks, before he looks down at his chest and his face turns an even brighter red.
Hayden’s distracted from Shane’s shirt by a thud coming from Shane’s closet, followed by muffled cursing in a - man’s voice? Fuck, Hayden has no clue what is going on here.
“Are you hiding someone in your closet?” Hayden asks incredulously. “Is someone trying to kidnap you?” He’s only half joking.
“Hayden,” Shane says, and he’s almost whining. “Just—” Shane closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Don’t be mad, okay?”
“Just tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll fix it,” Hayden says, drawing from the patience he’s developed from dealing with Ruby, Jade, and Arthur.
“Ilya,” Shane says softly, “come out.”
Hayden’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. Ilya? Shane definitely does not mean—
The closet door opens, and Hayden realizes, yes, Shane does mean Ilya Rozanov. “Holy fuck,” he hears himself say.
This is definitely above Hayden’s paygrade to be able to fix.
Even though Hayden can feel Shane’s worried look practically burning a hole in the side of his face, he literally can’t think of any words to say in this moment,. Rozanov isn’t wearing a shirt, or pants, and Hayden desperately wishes he hadn’t noticed, but Rozanov is half hard against his boxer briefs. Hayden rubs a hand over his face. He needs to make sure Ruby hasn’t gotten herself in too much trouble waiting for him.
“Why don’t you both get dressed and then we can talk about this,” Hayden suggests, in a voice that’s infinitely more reasonable than how he’s feeling right now.
Shane still has that worried pinch between his eyebrows. “I’m not mad,” Hayden makes himself add so Shane will hopefully stop spiralling. “Just… confused.”
Hayden forces himself to turn around and go find Ruby, his mind racing all the while. She’s found a puzzle Shane must keep for the kids and is sitting on the floor putting it together, Chompy sitting on the ground next to her, safe and sound.
“Is Uncle Shane okay?” Ruby asks.
“Yep!” he makes himself say. “He’s going to come out here in a second. He has a… friend with him that we’re going to meet, okay?”
Ruby nods and turns back to her puzzle. Hayden wishes he could be that calm about this whole situation. What has Shane gotten himself into?
As Hayden settles down on the couch while he waits, he reminds himself this is still the Shane he knows, that babysits his kids, Uncle Shane, and he hasn’t changed just because… whatever fucked up thing he has going on with Rozanov. It’s not like Hayden hasn’t wondered if Shane might be… gay, with the distinct lack of interest he shows in girls or in any of Jackie’s friends that Hayden tries to set him up with. But Rozanov?
Hayden hears the bedroom door open quietly. Shane isn’t looking him in the eyes, and Hayden makes himself take a deep breath. He doesn’t want to prove to Shane exactly why he felt he couldn’t tell his best friend about whatever this is.
Shane sits on the opposite side of the couch from him.
Rozanov chooses to sit on the floor next to Ruby. “Hi. I’m Ilya,” Rozanov introduces himself to her, like it’s not making Hayden have double vision to see him sitting next to Hayden’s daughter.
What the fuck kind of power move is that supposed to be? Out of every single player, why was this asshole the one in Shane’s closet? “So,” Hayden starts.
He looks up and sees unshed tears in Shane’s eyes. Jesus. Always with the wet puppy dog bullshit so Hayden can’t stay mad at him for anything. “How did this happen?” Hayden finally asks, helplessly.
Shane runs a hand through his hair, tugging on it in a way that looks painful to Hayden as he searches for a reply. Rozanov answers for Shane. “I am irresistible.” Then the motherfucker has the audacity to wink at Hayden.
Hayden looks at Shane despairingly. “Really?”
Shane’s mouth is opening and closing in a distinctly fish like way. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” Shane finally says. “Obviously.”
“So you were planning on telling me?”
“...At some point.”
Ruby giggles at something Rozanov does, and Hayden jerks his gaze over to her. “Ruby, stranger danger,” he hisses.
He notices the way Shane is looking at Rozanov while he makes Ruby laugh. Oh fuck. Are they in love? Hayden can feel a stress headache settling in behind his eyes.
“Okay,” Hayden says, forcing himself to take a breath.
He tries pinching himself. Unfortunately, he doesn’t wake up from this nightmare. He looks back at Shane. “Why?”
Shane puts his head in his hands. Hayden softens. “I’m not trying to upset you, buddy. I’m just trying to understand.”
Shane’s shoulders start to shake. Fuck, now Hayden’s really done it. Hayden slides down the couch until he’s sitting closer to Shane and brings an awkward hand up to pat his back. He looks down to see Roznov glaring at him and scooting closer to Shane, finally diverting his attention from Ruby. For her part, Ruby doesn’t seem to notice, now engrossed with tearing her puzzle apart again and putting the pieces in a circle around Chompy.
“Shane,” Rozanov says, more softly and gentler than Hayden’s ever heard him speak before.
Hayden hates the way Shane rolls off his tongue, like he’s said it a million times. God, this is so fucked up. He thought Shane hated Rozanov, like everyone on the Metros does, and that Rozanov hated him. Hayden’s brain feels like it’s short circuiting as Rozanov puts a hand on Shane’s knee and squeezes. “It’s okay,” Rozanov whispers. “Is your friend, yes? He will keep our secret.”
Rozanov turns a nasty look to Hayden, as if to say, or else.
“He’s right, Shane. I’m not going to tell anyone. Obviously. You’re still my best friend.”
Shane finally looks up, his eyes red. Hayden tries to ignore the way Shane brings one of his hands down to cover Rozanov’s where it sits on Shane’s knee. “Thanks, Hayden,” he breathes.
Hayden’s heart twists at the sight of Shane looking so miserable. “Of course,” he says, clapping his hand against Shane’s back. “I still have a million questions, though.”
Shane sighs, but a small smile is on his face, and Hayden knows they’re going to be okay. “This didn’t happen after your concussion, right?” Hayden asks, just to make sure.
“Not all of us need concussion to be involved to get sex,” Rozanov says, a smile twisting around his mouth.
“Hey!” Hayden says, shooting a meaningful look at Ruby. Rozanov has the good sense to look slightly chastised, although not enough for Hayden’s liking, and Shane is holding back a laugh.
“You’re killing me, man,” Hayden says, and it almost feels normal between them. “For real, though. How did this happen?”
Shane sighs and wrings his hands, his eyes meeting Rozanov’s. Rozanov squeezes Shane’s knee again, and Shane finally tells him the whole story.
-
Back in the car, with Ruby buckled into her car seat and Chompy firmly in her tiny grasp, Hayden scrubs a hand over his face. His stomach is twisted in knots over his worry for Shane. After hearing everything from Shane, Hayden can admit the situation is a little funny, but he definitely understands why they have been hiding all these years. He allows himself one small smile before starting the minivan.
Jackie’s going to be pissed she missed hearing all of the drama first hand. He’s always thought Shane avoided trouble like the plague, not wanting anything to tarnish his image and have his mom on his case, but now he realizes he was just saving all of it for Rozanov. He hopes Shane can hang on to all of the goodwill he’s built whenever this all comes out. For now, all Hayden can do is keep his mouth shut. And make sure Ruby never leaves another toy at Shane’s house again.
Once I was enamored with skies; finding worship at thirty thousand feet, face glued to the glass,sailing across Lake Atitlan beneath the Guatemalan blue,watching the endless stars above my hammock in the Nicaraguan campo,dreaming of who you might be one night in upstate New York, wondering if you were gazing up too,hearing the Appalachia thunder roll above us when we said yes to each other.It is…
The first time Ilya rubbed over Hollander’s hole, asking him if he touched himself there, Hollander had told him he had a dildo. Ilya immediately wanted to know more. What color was it? How big was it? Was it ribbed for pleasure, like Ilya’s seen on condoms? Of course, Hollander wasn’t forthcoming about anything Ilya wanted to know the first time he had mentioned it. That was okay, though. Ilya would wear him down.
It’s almost three years later when Ilya finally gets his answers.
It’s not much to look at, beige colored and very small, in Ilya’s humble opinion. “This is what you use to fuck yourself?” Ilya asks in disbelief. “No wonder you are always so desperate for me.”
“Shut up.” Hollander covers his eyes with his arm.
“Can you even feel this?” Ilya asks.
Ilya’s quest to find Shane a better dildo.
Jaskier relaxes back into the pillow, looking at his companion next to him. He admires Marek’s hair against the sheets and the rise and fall of his chest, still fast from their exertions earlier.
Marek’s hair looks almost white in the moonlight, and Jaskier pushes thoughts of Geralt from his head. He really needs to stop thinking about Geralt in conjunction with sex. Never mind the fact that Marek’s calloused hands felt exactly the same way Jaskier’s imagined Geralt’s would feel on his body.
Marek rolls over to face him, catching Jaskier’s eye and jerking him from his thoughts. “Thank you,” he says earnestly.
A small blush starts to heat Jaskier’s face. “What for?”
“I’ve never done that before. It was…nice.”
“Just nice, hmm?”
Marek laughs, and Jaskier likes the way it sounds. Not as good as coaxing out a hard earned chuckle from Geralt, but close. He wonders what Geralt’s occupying himself with this evening, anyway. Geralt had told him as he left their shared room not to get into trouble, and Jaskier would say he’s doing a pretty excellent job of that, if he says so himself. Keeping himself busy, indeed.
Geralt had accepted a rotfiend contract that would keep him occupied for the night. What else was Jaskier supposed to do? It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault that the contract issuer’s son was so handsome, so after Geralt left, Jaskier set himself to wooing Marek.
Jaskier’s attention is jerked back to Marek as he stretches and amends, “Great. Amazing, maybe.”
“That’s more like it.” A smug grin flashes over Jaskier’s face. Another satisfied partner, even if this one didn’t have much to compare it to.
Jaskier eyes Marek contemplatively, considering suggesting another round. If this was his first time, it would only be the gentlemanly thing to do to let him continue to draw from Jaskier’s vast experiences.
The post sex haze flies from Jaskier’s head as he hears a loud voice on the other side of the door. The door knob rattles, and Marek jumps out of bed, searching frantically for his clothes. Jaskier tries not to sigh in dismay, but Marek has a look of terror painted across his face, so apparently he’s not as used to the being angrily chased from bed part as Jaskier is.
Why does this always happen to him?
The feeble lock gives out as a man bursts into the room. “Hey! What are you doing with my son?”
Jaskier internally curses as his mind races, trying to think how to get himself out of the scrape this time. Geralt’s going to give him the even-more-silent treatment for at least two weeks if he loses out on his contract pay because of this.
“It’s not what it looks like?” he tries feebly.
-
another train fic! tune back in tomorrow for the next installment, which will be linked here!
Jaskier walks into his chambers to find a witcher he doesn't know reclining on his couch and staring at him with a lazy grin. All in all, just another Tuesday lately, but he stops in his tracks when he sees the medallion the witcher is wearing. Geralt's warned him about cat witchers.
“Can I help you?” he asks warily.
Jaskier can’t help but notice the witcher’s pointy canines as he opens his mouth. “Lambert sent me.”
Jaskier rubs a hand over his face. “I’m not running a witcher day care, you know.”
“He said something about you owing your livelihood to us?” the witcher asks innocently.
Jaskier groans, practically hearing Geralt reprimand him as he turns his back on the witcher to putter around his apartment. “And what exactly did he send you for?”
“Well, less that he sent me, per se, and more that he just said this was a safe place.”
Jaskier raises an eyebrow, beckoning a hand for him to go on.
“I broke my leg, so I need a spot to rest for… a week, and then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise. I’ll be the best house guest ever. You won’t even notice I’m here.”
“If you’re anything like Lambert, I highly doubt that,” Jaskier mutters, before sighing. “At least give me your name.”
“Aiden.”
Jaskier hums in acknowledgement. "Just so you know, you’ll owe me at least one story for every day you’re here. Have to earn your keep somehow.”
Aiden grins up at him, looking around at Jaskier’s plush home the university provided for him when he got tenure. “I think I can do that.”
Daphne runs into her long lost husband arguing with another man in the grocery store. Things start to take a turn when she realizes they're married.
The bottle of bleach drops from Daphne’s hand into her cart, landing with a sloshing thud as she takes in the scene in front of her, frozen in her tracks. Emmanuel is standing right in front of her, arguing with another man about cleaning supplies.
Wearing a beige trench coat for some inexplicable reason—it’s almost 90 degrees outside—Emmanuel listens to a man who’s explaining in minute detail how to clean an oven. They’re both wearing wedding rings, and Daphne’s heart swells for a moment before she realizes it’s a different ring from the one she gave Emmanuel all those years ago.
“Dean, I don’t think this is safe for Jack. This is going to create noxious fumes,” Emmanuel says, squinting at the ingredients of the cleaner apparently-Dean had thrust at him.
Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and Daphne squeezes the handle of her shopping cart harder, feeling faint. It’s not every day you come across your long lost husband at the Stop N’ Shop.
“I think the kid can take some fumes,” Dean says, plucking the bottle out of Emmanuel’s hands and putting it in the cart. “We wouldn’t even have to worry about this if someone didn’t let the pizza fall onto the bottom of the oven.”
“The directions said to put it directly on the middle rack!” Emmanuel protests, and Dean rubs a hand down Emmanuel’s back in a familiar way that makes Daphne’s stomach roil.
She’s not jealous, she’s not. She was just helping Emmanuel when she found him, after all. Their marriage was simply one of…convenience for Emmanuel. It’s not like he had a birth certificate with him, or a social security number. What did Daphne get out of all this? Well. Daphne looks at his cheek bones wistfully, her gaze dipping down to his strong forearms his trench coat is rolled up to reveal.
Dean rolls his eyes fondly, and then he tugs Emmanuel into his side, kissing him on the temple. Daphne jerks her stare away for a moment before returning it, noticing now that their wedding rings match.
“Emmanuel?” she chokes out, against her better judgment.
For a long second, she doesn’t think Emmanuel heard her, but he turns around. “Daphne?”
Daphne nods, her words forsaking her. She doesn’t miss the way Dean clutches possessively at Emmanuel’s hip.
“I…thought you were dead,” she finally says. “I filed a missing person report.”
Dean squints at her, before something like recognition passes over her face, and now that she thinks about it, Daphne recognizes him, too. He’s the one who showed up right before everything went to shit. Horror stories of Stockholm syndrome flash through her mind.
“Emmanuel, are you…happy?” she settles on.
Emmanuel gives her a smile, leaning harder into Dean. “I am.”
“Good. That’s. Good,” she says, a strangled look on her face, she’s sure. “Would you want to catch up some time?” she asks before she fully registers what’s coming out of her mouth.
Emmanuel gives her a warm smile. “I’d love that.”
As they set up a time to get coffee, Daphne tries to ignore the glare Dean levels at her throughout the whole conversation. He insists that their meeting be tomorrow, since apparently they won’t be in the area for long. Daphne tries to ignore the warning bells in her mind that tell her she’s about to get murdered and takes solace in the fact that at least they’re meeting in a public place.
Besides, even if Emmanuel’s husband is a serial killer, surely Emmanuel won’t let him murder her, right?
-
The next day, Daphne hems and haws as she debates what to wear. Whatever this is, it’s the exact opposite of a date, anyway. She knocks on the door of her foster child, Alex, to wake them up before she goes into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. Really, she’s just doing it for herself. She’s allowed to want to look nice!
When she finally deems herself as ready as she’s going to get, she goes back to Alex’s room to make sure they’re actually up. To her pleasant surprise, they’re sitting on the edge of their bed putting on their socks and almost ready. “Excited for school today?” she asks.
Alex makes a face at her. “Never,” they say, but their voice at least has the edge of a smile to it.
They’ve come a long way since they were first placed with her, and even though Daphne knows she shouldn’t be getting overly attached, she can’t help it. She walks down the steps and into the kitchen, deliberating for a moment on breakfast before putting frozen waffles into the toaster. If she’s about to get murdered while Alex is at school, she can at least make sure the last thing she made for them wasn’t cereal.
Alex tromps down the steps, dragging their bookbag behind them, and Daphne hides her smile behind her glass of orange juice. Alex lights up at the sight of the waffles, disturbingly easy to please, as always. They inhale them, as teenagers do, before putting their dishes in the sink. Daphne cracks open her laptop as they wait for the bus, attempting to get some of her work done for the day since she’ll be taking a break later for the coffee. She really hopes her boss doesn’t try and call her while she’s out.
Or, maybe she does. She’s not sure she’s prepared for the level of awkwardness that she’s about to go through, but maybe it won’t be as bad as she thinks. She really wants to know what Emmanuel has been up to for all of this time. She’s still…embarrassingly hung up on him, and it would be nice to get some closure.
The bus pulling up in front of the house jerks her out of her thoughts, and she gives Alex a wave before they race off to get on. She watches them settle into a seat with one of their friends, and smiles at the fact that they even have friends now.
In the end, Daphne doesn’t manage to get much work done before she clambers into her car and drives to the coffee shop they agreed on. She doesn’t really think she needs caffeine with the way her leg is bouncing already.
Emmanuel and Dean are already there when she walks in, Emmanuel with a cup of black coffee he’s dumping sugar packets into and Dean with something with whipped cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She gives them a tentative wave before ordering hot chocolate for herself, settling herself delicately in the seat across from them.
“So,” Dean says. “You were Cas’s wife?”
She squints. “Cas?”
Emmanuel speaks up. “After I regained my memories, I remembered that was my name.”
“Oh.” Smiling weakly, she tries to reconcile that. “You have them all back now?”
Emman—Cas nods.
“Just forgot about me, though?” she tries to ask lightly, but it comes out a little garbled.
“You took advantage of him!” Dean explodes from the other side of the table, making Daphne flinch. “Who the fuck finds someone naked with no memories and marries them?”
“Dean,” Cas chastises, his arm shifting like he’s putting his hand on Dean’s thigh under the table.
“I was helping him,” Daphne says hotly. “Would you have just wanted me to leave him there?”
Cutting Dean off before he can say anything else, Cas looks at Daphne and smiles in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’m very grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to let you know I was alright.”
Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his sugar monstrosity. He comes away with a whipped cream mustache, and it’s hard not to laugh as he wipes it away in total seriousness.
“So,” Daphne says. “You two have a kid? Jack?”
Scowling, which seems to be Dean’s automatic reflex, he exchanges a glance with Cas before softening. “Yeah, we have a kid. He’s four.”
Daphne thinks maybe Dean should have been a little bit more concerned about the fumes of cleaning chemicals if they have a four year old, but she keeps her judgments to herself. Cas beams. “He’s very bright.”
Returning the smile tentatively, Daphne asks, “How long have you two been married?”
“It’s almost our one year anniversary,” Dean says gruffly.
Daphne tries not to let it affect her, even if that’s more time than she ever got with Cas. “Practically newly weds, then!”
“It’s been an adventure; that’s certain,” Cas says, smiling serenely even as Dean elbows his ribs. “Tell us about you, Daphne. What have you been doing?”
Daphne shrugs a shoulder. “Oh, not too much.” Mourning the man I pulled out of the woods and saved and married, she doesn’t say. She knows Emmanuel never felt the same way about her that she did him. “I got approved to be a foster parent, so I’ve had a few kids come through.”
“Helping people has always been your calling,” Cas says softly.
Daphne takes a few minutes to gush about Alex, and her previous kids before them, before she notices Dean’s not actively glaring at her anymore.
“That’s…nice,” he begrudges when she finishes.
“What do you do, Dean?”
Looking like he just dropped something on his foot, he stammers before he hastily says, “I work construction.”
Daphne squints at him. She has the feeling he’s lying to her, but she has no idea why he would be.
“And what about you, Cas?”
“Oh, I mostly just take care of Jack.”
“You’re a stay at home dad?” she asks, the thought making her stomach twist into knots and heat rise to her face.
“Of a sorts,” Cas agrees.
God, they’re making it impossible to carry on a conversation with them. Daphne keeps a smile pasted to her face. “What do you two do for fun?”
“I’m convinced Dean thinks fun is superfluous,” Cas confides, even as Dean splutters at him. “But I like to drag him to thrift stores with me. Dean likes to bake, also.”
“I work on cars, too,” Dean says, and Daphne can feel his desperation to maintain his facade.
She tries not to quirk a smile at his discomfort. They chat for a while longer, Dean getting increasingly dodgy about the questions she asks before she finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and looks down at the dank floor. Is she getting what she wanted out of this? She has no idea what she even imagined happening when she asked to catch up. Emmanuel running away with her? Maybe in her wildest fantasies. Taking a deep breath to ground herself, she looks in the mirror and checks her makeup, rubbing at her under eye circles before walking back out of the bathroom.
Cas is at the counter ordering another drink, for Dean, by the sound of the sugar content, and she walks over to him. Hesitating before she bites the bullet, she asks, “You’re not…like, being held against your will, right? That Dean seems,” she pauses, “interesting.”
Cas laughs warmly, putting a hand over Daphne’s. “No, nothing like that. This is a choice of my own free will, believe it or not. Dean is much more caring than he lets on.”
Well, Daphne’s not sure she believes it, but. At least he’s happy, and in the end, that’s all she’s ever wanted for him.
Ace week prompts, here we go: Sooooo Demisexual Lambert and Aiden together with the trope Realising that they’re aspec. Lambert and Aiden keep meeting up and sharing bedrolls to keep warm which is no big deal but then like his libido takes an interest and that has never happened before and what's he supposed to do now??
Aiden’s arms wrap around Lambert in his sleep, and a familiar surge of affection settles in Lambert’s stomach, spreading warmly up his to his chest. Pressing closer behind him, Aiden’s palm settles on his chest.
Lambert turns around to look at Aiden, his gaze flitting over the sharp planes of his face and hollow of his throat that glows in the firelight, down to his chest covered by his thin sleep shirt. It’s so threadbare that Lambert can practically see through it, his eyes caught on Aiden’s dark skin beneath the cream color of the fabric.
A snore comes from Aiden that jerks Lambert’s attention back up to his face. Lambert’s struck with the desire to reach out and run his fingers over it, the just of his hooked nose that matches Lambert’s, the curve of his cheeks, the stubble of his beard. He lets his hand drift up, hovering along the side of Aiden’s face. Something stirs lower than his stomach, and Lambert yanks his hand away.
They’ve slept like this to keep warm too many times to count over the past six months. Lambert’s never felt like this before, about anyone. He starts to wonder if this is the feeling Geralt and Eskel are always going on about. He thought they had been…pretending, just trying to ignore what the trials had taken away from them.
As his cock begins to take an interest as he just looks, he considers that maybe it’s just been him, and maybe it wasn’t the trials after all. He watches in fascination as the moon comes out from behind a cloud and the light catches on Aiden’s eyelashes. They flutter open just as Lambert’s considering what his lips might feel like. His heartbeat picks up speed.
“Hi,” Aiden whispers, his eyes squinting as he tries to chase the sleep from them.
Vesemir pinches the bridge of his nose. That can’t mean anything good. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”
“We were… at a party… and then the police showed up, and—“ How Vesemir has made it this far without having a coronary is beyond him, really. “Long story short, we’re hiding in a corn field.”
“Who’s we? Put Lambert on the phone right now.”
There’s a long pause. “Lambert’s not with me.”
Vesemir’s eyebrows raise. He finds that hard to believe. He walks up the stairs as Eskel chatters nervously in his ear, and sure enough, Lambert’s lying on his bed, on the phone with Aiden. Vesemir hears two iterations of, “No, you hang up!” before he moves onto Geralt.
He has the door open, just like Vesemir instructed him, and he and Yennefer are flipping through their history textbooks, saying something about Persia.
Huh. This certainly isn’t what Vesemir has come to expect from his children. Maybe Aiden and Yennefer are both being good influences.
He narrows his eyes as he cuts Eskel off. “Who are you with, then?”
“Jaskier,” Eskel says in a quiet voice.
Eyes nearly bugging out of his head, Vesemir asks, “Jaskier?” just to make sure.
He must have misheard. Jaskier has come over to work on projects with Eskel and always looked tidy and seemed very studious, not to mention unfailingly polite. Vesemir makes a face to himself. “I’m on my way,” he sighs. “Try to not get arrested for trespassing.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t have just walked?” Jaskier asks, picking at his fingernails.
Eskel huffs and shoves him in the shoulder. “Yes. Vesemir’s always saying we can call him whenever, for whatever.”
A breeze rustles the dead leaves of the corn, and Jaskier reaches out to snap off an ear, his fingers fidgeting with the husk until the cob is revealed and he can start pulling off the dry kernels. Jaskier plops to the ground and pulls his knees up tight to his chest.
“Your dad’s not going to like me anymore,” Jaskier whispers.
Eskel frowns at him. “Why?”
“Because I got you into trouble. You never get into trouble!”
Eskel shrugs, unconcerned, and Jaskier resists the urge to reach out and shake him. “He’ll still like you. And besides, what does that matter?”
A sly grin crosses Eskel’s face, and Jaskier blushes. Eskel’s breath smells like the beer he drank earlier, and Jaskier looks down at the ground, tugging at the weeds to try and ground himself.
“Would it help—” Eskel clears his throat and sticks out his hand to Jaskier. “Would this help?”
Jaskier looks up at him, at Eskel’s sturdy hand and earnest face. He takes it. A lopsided smile crosses Eskel’s face, and Jaskier can’t help but return it. Eskel’s phone pings, and he looks down at it before looking around them and typing something. “Vesemir’s here,” he says, tugging on Jaskier’s hand to prod him to his feet.
Jaskier wraps his other hand around Eskel’s forearm for a moment before he jerks it back, taking his other hand with him. Even though Jaskier misses it already, he makes sure his smile doesn't waver on his face. Eskel gestures him forward to where he can just see the headlights of Vesemir’s minivan filtering through the corn.
-
As they pile into the car, Vesemir lessens his glare and forces his face into something softer as he registers Jaskier trembling in the backseat, and not just from the cold. He doesn’t miss the way he and Eskel are pressed together. either, or the way Eskel’s hand creeps over the seat to take Jaskier’s in his.
He’ll just have to keep an eye on them, that’s all. Eskel has a good head on his shoulders, and he’s practically glowing right now.
The drive passes in tense silence, Vesemir doing his best to give Eskel his disappointed dad look while not stressing Jaskier out anymore than he already is. Eventually, they drop Jaskier off and pull back into their own driveway. Eskel practically dives out of the car to get out of the enclosed space with Vesemir. He’s sure Eskel will talk to him about this in his own time. Probably.
When he gets into the house, Eskel is getting a glass of water, but when Vesemir walks up the stairs, Eskel follows behind him shortly after.
Vesemir looks in on Geralt, who’s now leaning his head over a trigonometry textbook with Yennefer. When he makes his way to Lambert’s room, he’s finally hung up the phone, but he’s making hand puppets through the window to Aiden across the road.
Vesemir has a private smile as he closes the door, looking behind him to where Eskel is still trailing after him, looking half like he wants to tell Vesemir something and half like he never wants to say anything again. There’s probably something Vesemir should say, some way to make this a teachable moment, but he doesn’t think anything he could do that would make more of an impact than what’s already happened.
"I really like him," Eskel finally admits, quietly.
Vesemir quirks a smile. "I'm glad. Maybe next time you two can just come over here?"
Eskel turns red, and Vesemir ruffles his hair. He’s not doing such a terrible job, after all.
