#soft aiden

[sga-mcshep-4ever]

Aiden Ford out of context.

[eldritcharchive]

you crossed my mind

Read on AO3 | @bamf-jaskier‘s Witchertober 2020 Day 6 - Found

“Yeah, so, it’s not much,” Aiden says as he struggles with the lock, “but uh, it’s better than nothing, I suppose.” The key clicks in the lock, finally, and Aiden kicks the door open, gesturing for Lambert to enter. ‘Not Much’ is an understatement - Aiden’s apartment is barely a studio, space-wise. The walls are a sort of pea green, and there’s a small kitchen as an entryway, shelves nailed to the walls anywhere there is space, lit by filtered sunlight peeking through the slat blinds in front of the sliding glass doors. There’s a fucking bunk bed against one of the walls, a futon in the center of the room, and a truly ancient TV on an old coffee table. Somehow, Aiden has the TV rigged to work with a Playstation 4 that someone’s covered in vinyl stickers of cats.

Lambert stands dumbly in the entryway with his witcher gear and a backpack of clothes, taking up so much space - he wonders, vaguely, if this is what Geralt feels like all the time. The door slams behind him and Aiden manages to squeeze into the space to Lambert’s left (which contains a small closet, a lone piece of countertop, and the bathroom).

“It’s…uh,” Lambert starts.

“Shit, I know,” Aiden says with a grin. “We can only afford it because Ashwood is better at finding work. Something about him being more trustworthy, I dunno. Somebody influential must have vouched for him or something.” He slaps Lambert’s shoulder. “I promise the futon doesn’t suck.”

“Everyone says that about their futons, and everyone is wrong,” Lambert mutters, stepping cautiously into the space. Aiden flits around, chattering about where Lambert can keep his gear (“In the closet, we basically only have armor and swords in there anyway. Oh, and the vacuum -”) seemingly unable to stay still. He drops his backpack unceremoniously on the futon - the ratty black bag thumps softly against the faux leather couch. Honestly, Lambert’s just glad the place has a roof.

“So, why were you on the streets, anyway?” Aiden asks, quickly adding, “Y’know, if you want to talk about it,” when he notices Lambert flinch. Most witchers lived on the streets - it was easier to find contracts if you were always on the move, or so Lambert was told. Maybe that was just what Vesemir thought. Wouldn’t have been the first time the old man was wrong.

“Easier to find work,” he says, voice low and just this side of angry. Lambert’s always this side of angry, at least as far as Aiden can tell. “Usually. Had a string of bad luck, so of course, I’m stuck in fucking Vizima.”

“Well, good thing you found me!” Aiden says, collapsing on the other end of the couch. “I wasn’t sure if you’d kept our numbers - maybe you don’t have Ashwood’s I don’t remember what we gave you - definitely didn’t think you’d remember we lived here but anyway yeah you can crash here as long as you like. Just chip in for groceries every once in a while and clean up your shit and we’ll be fine.”

Lambert blinks and shakes his head lightly. He’d forgotten how quickly Aiden can talk when he gets going - like Geralt used to when he was younger and still talked about his…shit, what were they… hyperfixations. Fuck, he should probably text Geralt and Eskel so they don’t think he’s dead. What they tell Vesemir is their problem.

“Thanks, A,” Lambert says, digging his phone out of his pocket and throwing himself down next to Aiden. He takes a second before he gets absorbed in his phone to really look at Aiden. It’s been a while, but there aren’t any new scars on his face or shoulders - his tawny skin is slightly flushed, and his auburn hair is shorter than it was when they last met. He looks… good. Real good, and shit he’s staring; Lambert jerks his head back toward his phone. If Aiden notices, he doesn’t say anything while Lambert jams his fingers against the screen of his cheap-ass Nokia.

To: Gerry Know you don’t care but I’m still alive. Staying with Cats in Vizima

To: Goat Still alive, in Vizima

Lambert checks the Noticeboard from his phone - it’s always so much easier when people actually use the fucking app - but nothing’s up. What was there had been claimed by Ashwood and look stupidly dull - pack of drowners, a cave that *might* have nekkers in it, and the whisper of a rumor of a leshen. Lambert huffs and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“You think that Leshen contract is real?” Aiden asks - at some point he’d turned to face Lambert and pulled his legs up onto the couch, crossing them in front of him. “I’m just worried cause Ash didn’t come get me last time it was a big thing and he almost died.”

“The notice said that ‘a friend of my son said his friend saw a leshen in the local park’ so probably not,” Lambert says, and Aiden visibly relaxes. “Why didn’t he come get you? I thought you two were joined at the hip?”

Aiden snorts. “Yeah, so,, I managed to break my leg and we didn’t have the money to get the right ingredients for Swallow,” he says, leaning the side of his head against the back of the futon. “So yeah he was probably justified but also…” he trails off for a moment, looking down at his worn-out jeans to where he’s worrying the hem. “…Could’a lost him.” Aiden’s voice is small and Lambert frowns - he’s never been that close to his ‘brothers’, but then again, he wasn’t actually related to Geralt and Eskel.

“Yo, hey, he’ll be fine,” Lambert says, bumping his knuckles against Aiden’s knee. “Ashwood’s smart, he wouldn’t risk his life like that again.” Aiden nods and smiles weakly.

“Why don’t we uh… watch something and I’ll order a pizza,” Aiden says. He snatches a controller from the floor and gets the game system running, flicking the TV on when he gets up. “Pick something, will ya?”

“Alright, fine,” Lambert mutters, grabbing the controller and flicking through the apps on the screen. He manages to get Netflix up and running, clicking through the popular shows before settling on ancient episodes of Unsolved Mysteries. (Most of the mysteries weren’t so much mysteries as rare monsters or murders that lacked evidence.) Aiden mutters his order and a card number into the phone - two large pizzas, one with spinach and pineapple (disgusting) and one meat lovers - before returning to the couch, sitting closer to Lambert now, and slouching against the futon.

“Pineapple and Spinach?” Lambert grumbles, sticking out his tongue in disgust. Aiden shrugs and smiles at Lambert when their eyes meet.

“Ashwood’s favorite,” he offers as an explanation. Lamber mimes gagging, grinning when Aiden throws his head back and laughs.

“Ash is disgusting,” Lambert says, his grin undercutting his tone.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Aiden warns, “he’s real good at comebacks.” The two men stare at each other in silence for a moment before collapsing against each other in a fit of giggles. When they calm down, Lambert’s head is tucked against Aiden’s neck, and Aiden has an arm wrapped around Lambert’s waist.

“I’m real glad to see you again, Lamb,” Aiden mutters, quiet enough that he can deny saying it. Lambert won’t let him though - he straightens up and makes eye contact and smirks.

“Can’t get rid of me now,” he says, half-joking but his voice is soft and quiet as he snakes a hand up to Aiden’s neck. “A… can I…?”

Aiden surges forward, pushing Lambert down against the couch, and kisses him with a fierceness that leaves Lambert breathless. When he pulls away - not far, but Lambert would prefer they stayed pressed together - Aiden chuckles.

“Could get used to a roommate if he kisses like this all the time,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah?” Lambert asks, breathing heavy. “Wouldn’t get bored?” Aiden’s expression softens and he brings a hand up to Lambert’s cheek, brushing it gently with his thumb.

“Never.”

[alllthequeenshorses]

22 for the TAD prompts? 💛

Aaahhhh, I love doing these! Thanks so much for the ask! 💕

22. And me wearing your clothes just to surprise you when you come home all tired

Mild Lambden, rated T

———

An orange light buzzed over his head as he fumbled with the doorknob in the dim light. Lambert cursed as his key stuck in the lock. It was just his freaking luck that his key would be choosing tonight to be troublesome. The landlord had been promising to come out to fix it for days now but hadn’t gotten around to it yet and it was slowly becoming a greater and greater inconvenience.

His night had been a long one as it was and he wanted nothing more than to curl into bed next to his boyfriend and sleep the next day away. The regulars at the bar where he had worked had filed out at closing time but the bachelorette party in the back corner had raged for another hour despite the workers’ attempts to subtly wrap things up and now it was nearing four in the morning and he was exhausted.

The lock finally clicked open and he pushed through the door, dropping his keys in the bowl by the entryway. He was surprised to see the kitchen light had been left on for him as he dropped his things on the counter. There was a bright post-it note on the counter as well with a single arrow pointing towards the fridge. He opened it to find a plate of food left for him on the top shelf. He peeled the tinfoil off of it and discovered a healthy serving of Aiden’s homemade lasagna next to a pile of veggies, cold now but smelling as delicious as always. He popped it into the microwave and started it, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall as he waited, too tired to even check his phone.

Their bedroom door creaked and a moment later a pair of arms snuck their way gently around his sides to wrap him in a warm hug from behind.

“Hello, handsome,” Aiden’s sleepy voice murmured in his ear.

“Hello, kitten,” he said quietly back. “Sorry I’m late, work was hell tonight.”

The arms just hugged him tighter in response and Lambert could feel Aiden’s cheek press against his shoulder blade.

He brought a hand up to rub little circles into Aiden’s arms as they stood there in the light of the microwave, feeling the soft hoodie beneath his fingers. It took a few moments for him to realize that it was one of his.

“Are you wearing my hoodie?” It was only partially accusatory.

Aiden snorted gently from behind him. “Maybe,” he teased mischievously. He knew exactly what effect seeing his boyfriend in his stolen clothes had on Lambert.

Lambert turned, pulling Aiden into his arms and tilting his head up with one finger. His green eyes blinked back up at Lambert from behind his dark curls and Lambert leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Tomorrow,” Lambert promised and Aiden whispered back “tomorrow.”