Pups At Heart
AN: FINALLY after months of this sitting around in my wips, I finished it! I just need all the witcher bros to be a lil goofy & silly, they have earned the right. Please enjoy this funny lil fic where our favorite wolves have a drunk tickle fight.
Winter on the continent was harsh and bitter, offering little reprieve for any poor soul stuck in its grasp. Contracts were few and far between, the monsters having enough sense to bed down for the time being. And towns were already none too keen on the prospect of a witcher staying at their inn, much less for an extended amount of time. Camping was absolutely out of the question. There really was no other option than to head to their old keep.
The trek to Kaer Morhen was difficult and tiring at best and cruel and unforgiving at worst. But the warm fire and homemade liquor made it worth it.
These cold months weren't easy for any of them. They had to constantly keep up with the maintenance of the old castle and train near daily to ensure they would be ready for their next hunt, whenever that may be. Witchers were restless. They were used to being on the move, and could be irritable when forced to stay in one place. Especially when they all intentionally got on each other's nerves. But Geralt wouldn't have it any other way, and he knew they wouldn't either.
They were sitting in the dining hall, merrily drinking and exchanging stories. Vesemir had retired earlier that evening, leaving the three wolves alone to their shenanigans.
"I'm too old to watch all the dumb shit I know you're gonna get into," he had claimed. "So get it all out while I'm not there to witness it." He didn't have to tell them twice. As soon as the coast was clear, Lambert's grin turned absolutely feral.
"Now that he's gone, the real Vesemir can come out!" he exclaimed and dashed out of the room. Eskel cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled after him.
"Damnit not that bullshit again! It's not even funny!"
From down the hall they heard the echoing reply. "It's hilarious and you know it!" Geralt chuckled while Eskel shook his head in defeat. He grabbed his mug and pulled it closer to himself.
"Ugh, I'm not drunk enough to laugh at his dumb jokes," he said, taking a gulp.
"Drink up then, he'll be back soon."
"Unfortunately." But the small turn of his lips said differently. When he returned, Lambert stood in the doorway with a flourish. The hat sat atop his head a bit crooked, and for some damn reason, he had a fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.
"Behold! The one and only Vesemir!" he slurred out, leaning against the doorframe. Eskel looked over his shoulder, and upon seeing him spewed out his ale.
"You look fucking ridiculous," he said, wiping his mouth. Lambert didn't walk, he sauntered over to them. Geralt raised a brow and Eskel had to look away, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. Lambert leaned in over the table, fixing him with a glare from beneath the brim of his hat.
"Now is that any way to talk to your elders?" he asked.
"I don't know. Seeing as your the youngest I think you should answer that," Geralt said smugly. Lambert flipped him off.
"Birds don't fly indoors," Geralt replied with a smirk. Lambert's face scrunched in confusion, looked at his hand, then a wave of realization washed over him.
"Oooh. Hehe, that's funny, I'll have to remember that. Birds don't fly indoors. You're so funny Geralt," he rambled as he shrugged off the blanket. He then threw it over both of their heads, earning himself a few yelled out curses and protests. Eskel ripped off the blanket and chucked it on the floor. Geralt snatched the hat from his head, and Lambert whined as he reached for it. Geralt held him at bay with a hand at his chest, the other arm outstretched and gripping the hat. Eskel plucked it from his hands and plopped it on his own head.
"There, now I'm Vesemir. And Vesemir says no more Vesemirs. So pft," he finished by blowing a raspberry at Lambert. Said man stuck his tongue out and blew one back. Not wanting to feel left out, Geralt stuck his own tongue out and blew. They kept this up for a full minute before dissolving into laughter. Eskel tried to continue, but he was smiling so much that his lips couldn't form the sound. This only made him laugh harder and he rested his head on his arm.
"This is fun. I'm glad we still know how to have fun like this," Geralt mused. He got two cheers of drunken agreement.
"Hell yeah we're still fun! We stay young for like, ever. That means we're always gonna have fun like this!" Lambert reasoned. "But I will say you two have really mellowed out in old age. I mean, where's that spark of mischief from when we were kids?"
"It's called growing up," Geralt said.
"Well that's stupid," Lambert deadpanned.
"Well you clearly haven't done it," Eskel quipped, downing his ale. Lambert had just finished his own pint and was pouring himself some more.
"Hey! I have tOo!" he yelled, voice cracking ever so slightly at the end. He prayed they hadn't noticed. Like he would be so lucky.
"TOo?" Eskel mocked as he and Geralt both laughed at his expense. Yeah that was about right. Lambert slammed a hand on the table.
"QuIt damnit!" he ordered, but the drunker he got, the less control he had over his voice.
"He did it again!" Geralt cheered and raised his glass in victory. Eskel raised his own and clinked it against his.
"Oh you assholes." Eskel grabbed Lambert's arm that held his tankard and forced him to join the cheers. Lamber yanked his arm back, the ale sloshing in the cup.
"Don't fucking- make me cheers at my own expense."
"I can and I did," Eskel bragged.
"That's it. Fight me!" Lambert demanded. Eskel rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna fight you, just get over it."
"Nooooo," Lambert whined. "I need to fight you. Or Geralt. Just someone. I'm all, what's that word? Oh, hyper! I'm hyper and I'm gonna fight you!" he exclaimed.
"You gonna cheat like when you were little?" he asked, taking another drink. Geralt and Lambert did the same.
"Hey I didn't cheat, I used different strategies!" Lambert defended.
"Whatever, I'm still not gonna fight you."
"I bet I can make you fight me without even having to talk," he wagered. Geralt shifted in his seat, tilting his head.
"That I'd like to see," he mused. "Maybe then you'll finally shut up."
"Oh ha ha."
Eskel shrugged, "Sorry, but it won't work. I'm too mature to fall for your childish provocations." He was only half joking. Or so he thought.
Lambert made a show of dredging up a loogie before spitting directly in Eskel's face. Geralt burst out laughing as Eskel wiped it off before immediately pouncing. They tussled on the ground for a bit, slapping and punching. Lambert tugged on his hair and Eskel held him in a headlock, scrubbing his knuckles into his scalp. Lambert managed to bite his hand, making him recoil with a small yelp.
"Oh you dirty ass cheater. Well two can play at that game!" He jumped on him, wrapping his legs around his waist so he couldn't escape as he hugged him to his chest. His fingers dug into Lambert's ribs, wiggling between the bones.
"FUCK DON'T!" Lambert cried, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. He curled in on himself as much as he could in his hold, "Youhuhu bihihitch!"
"Oh so it wasn't cheating when you'd do this to us, but as soon as the tables are turned you can't take it?" Eskel asked, not letting up. Lambert squirmed and thrashed in his arms, desperate for any sort of relief. "If I remember correctly your stomach was pretty bad."
"Dohohon't you dahahare!" Lambert cried.
"Hey Eskel, I dare you," Geralt piped up from his seat. That was all the incentive he needed. He started out light and teasing, delivering fast pokes all over his belly. Lambert's laugh went up a few octaves and his face scrunched adorably. His hands swatted at the offending appendages weakly. His laughter melted into hiccupy giggles as Eskel began tracing a spiral leading to his bellybutton.
"Plehehehease nohoho," he pleaded. Eskel smirked down at him.
"Why not? Is your tummy too ticklish?" he teased. Lambert smacked a hand over his face as his giggles ramped up in intensity.
"Dohohohon't fuhucking say thahat!"
"Why? 'Cause it's true?" Geralt asked around his mug, taking another drink. He was very much enjoying the show.
"SHUHUT UP DIHIHICK!" he yelled out just as he drilled into his bellybutton. Eskel chuckled as he removed Lambert's hand from his face and shifted so that his arms were now pinned at his sides.
"Hey Lambert, remember this?" he asked, forming his hand into a claw. He stretched his fingers out before bending them back in, repeating the motion as his hand got closer to his stomach. Lambert's eyes went wide and his struggling doubled. He giggled in anticipation, legs kicking out and scrambling for purchase but only succeeded in pushing him closer to his captor.
"Fuck fuck fuck Eskel not the claw! You cahahan't do this to mehehe!" He tried to suck in his stomach, but that wretched hand kept moving closer.
"Gotcha!" Eskel exclaimed as he made contact, vibrating his whole hand on his stomach as his fingers scratched and dug into the soft muscle. Lambert literally screamed before falling into hysterics; the sensation along with the build up was too much. He turned limp in Eskel's arms, losing the strength to fight him off. Not that he had been trying very hard before.
Lambert had a funny laugh. It was high pitched and full of joy, something you wouldn't expect from the hot headed witcher. It was just a happy sound, one you couldn't help but to smile when hearing it. Loud, frantic, and infectious. Full of squeals and hiccups that embarrassed him to no end. Perhaps a bit on the squeaky side, and could even be shrill at times. Geralt and Eskel always commented on just how cute it was just to see him get all huffy and defensive. Lambert hated it.
Lambert looked at Geralt with pleading eyes.
"Geheheralt! Hehehelp please!"
"Less talking more laughing," Eskel said with a pinch to his side, drawing out another squeak. Geralt smirked to himself, standing up and stretched before stumbling over to the two of them. He plopped on the floor heavily, sitting by their side. He rested his chin in his hands, watching with a lazy drunken smile.
"I'll help, but I want some fun first," he admitted.
"Oh you bahahastard traitor!" he yelled. Geralt scooted down by his thrashing legs, grabbing them in a headlock. Lambert knew where this was going and tried to kick out with all his might. Geralt managed to slip off his boots and skittered his fingers along the socked souls.
"You ahahassholes! You'll regrehet thihihis!" he threatened, though he didn't sound too scary. Geralt smirked as he raked his nails down his soles. Eskel made eye contact with him before rolling his eyes. "Sure we will, Squeaky."
"Yeah I'm really shaking in my boots," Geralt teased, wiggling a few of his toes gently. Lambert threw his head back, practically howling. They kept it up for about another minute or two before finally releasing him.
"Oh you bastards are so in for it," he growled as he began to regain his breath. Eskel only smirked.
"Whatever you say," he said, making to stand. Lambert recovered surprisingly quick, jolting up right so he could swipe Eskel's feet out from over him with his legs. He tripped with a short yell, landing right in Lambert's lap. Geralt blinked in shock at how fast it happened, an impressed snort huffing out of his nose.
Lambert chuckled evilly as Eskel tried to fight his way out of his grip. He pushed at the arms around his waist, legs kicking out for purchase against something. "Let's see how you like it, shall we?" he teased, squeezing at the spot at the back of his neck that made him howl. And howl he did.
Eskel had a deep, almost calm laugh but his reactions let you know just how frantic he was. It was such a bright sound, one that filled you with warmth. The scar on his right side curled his lip upward, making his smile seem wider and a bit lopsided. Goofy wasn't how you'd typically describe Eskel, but then again, he wasn't usually laughing underneath his brothers' hands.
"Ihihi'll fuckin' kihihill you!" he threatened through his laughter. His neck was scrunched, trying to block Lambert's fingers. The other rolled his eyes.
"I'd like to see you try in this state," he teased. Out of the three of them, Eskel was the worst about thrashing. His elbows flew out every which way as Lambert moved down to his sides. He looked at Geralt expectantly. "Little help here?" Geralt shook his head fondly, a few chuckles slipping out.
"How could I resist an offer like that?" As much as he tried to act tough and like he was above it all, they both knew that Eskel loved this as much as them. It was all in his eyes, a spark of excitement that only came out when they played like this. But he had to play along, had to keep up his image as the respectable, composed older brother, so his feet kicked out at Geralt.
"Dohohon't!" he cried out. Lambert's eyes flashed with evil mischief.
"Don't what?" he asked, setting the trap. Waiting for him to take the bait.
"Tihihickle mehehe!" Eskel was smart, but he could really be stupid. His eyes widened as he realized he fell right into his trap. Lambert leaned in, grin wider than it's ever been, at least to Eskel's recollection. "If you insist," he said, squeezing his hips to make him buck more. "Fuhuck you, you knohohow I dihihidn't mean thahat!"
"If you didn't mean it why'd you say it?" Geralt joined in on the teasing. He leaned in closer, wearing a cocky, smug ass grin on his face, head tilted to the side. His hair was disheveled in his drunken state and hung over his shoulders as he looked down at him. Even while laughing his head off, Eskel noticed how he was more playful than usual, even when he wasn't drunk. He joined in on their teasing and jokes, and wasn't afraid to get involved in their brotherly antics. It had to be because of that bard of his, he decided. He's more like he was before Blaviken. If he wasn't completely losing his mind, he would've commented on it. Oh well, he would just have to wait for Geralt's turn.
Despite what rumors said, witchers actually can blush, it just takes a lot more embarrassment before it shows. It was like how some ignorant people believed they couldn't get drunk. It just requires a bit more effort before it becomes noticeable. And Eskel always had the misfortune of being the most easily flustered out of the three of them.
"Aw there's those adorable cherry cheeks," Lambert teased, pinching his cheek with one hand before moving to let his fingers scratch at the spot just behind his ear.
"Shuhuhut uhuhup!" he retorted, scrunching his neck and trying to protect his ear. Geralt chuckled at him, squeezing up his calves. Eskel snorted loudly, tugging on his trapped legs.
"That's right, you always were a snorter, weren't you?" Geralt taunted, hands clawing closer to the backs of his knees. His legs immediately curled in on themselves as a weak form of protection. Eskel shoved at Lambert's other hand that scratched over his ribs, allowing Geralt to uncurl his legs. He squirmed in their grasp, reduced to a giggly heap.
"I-I ahaham nohot!" he denied. Geralt arched a brow skeptically, raking blunt nails down the backs of his knees to draw out another snort. Eskel turned a shade darker, bringing one hand up to hide his face.
"Oh but you are," Lambert cooed condescendingly. He leaned in to scratch his beard against his neck, making him shriek. He fell into a stream of deep chuckles, reaching up to shove him away by the face.
"You're ahahan ahahass," he giggled, slumping away from Lambert's hold and onto the ground in an attempt to scramble away. He would've made it too, if Geralt hadn't drug him back by the ankles. They both grabbed his arms, keeping them pinned at his sides. Geralt immediately started scribbling his fingers over his knees.
Eskel snorted as his legs jerked out, kicking around aimlessly. Lambert stared down at him with an evil grin, holding his own hand in the form of that dreaded claw.
"Hey Eskel, remember this?" he asked, lowering his hand and flexing his fingers in and out.
"Fuck you!" he barked out between fits of laughter. Lambert shook his head and tsked.
"And here I thought you were the one with manners," he teased. His hand dove down, vibrating and wiggling into his abs.
"Knock ihihit ohohoff! Plehease!" he pleaded through hysterics. Geralt cocked his head and hummed in consideration, but continued to knead his thighs. "What do you think? Should he get mercy?" Despite the taunt, his voice was softer and he started to slow down to let him catch his breath.
"Yeah, he did say please," Lambert said, coming to a stop and let him go. As Eskel recovered from such an ordeal, Geralt stood and headed towards his seat... As if he thought he could just get away with turning on both of them in a tickle fight and leave scott free.
"Where do you think you're going?" Eskel asked from his spot on the floor, sitting upright. Lambert smirked, reaching out to tug Geralt back by his wrist.
"Yeah, it's your turn now, pal," he growled, grabbing him in a headlock as he took him down to the floor. Geralt barely had time to breathe out, "What the fuck?" before Eskel pinned his legs. Lambert grabbed up his wrists and tucked them under his own knees, leaving Geralt stretched out.
"Would... apologizing help my case at all?" he asked with a thin veil of hope. He offered a fleeting, nervous grin and golden begging eyes.
Nope."
"Absolutely not." And they dug in. Eskel scribbled over his bare feet, thanks to Geralt having discarded his boots early in the night. Lambert dove straight for his pits, drilling his thumbs in the center of his hallows. Geralt bit his lip to keep the sounds of his mirth from escaping. He threw his head back with a loud grunt, legs jerking and arms tensing as he tried to pull them down. Eskel scratched along the arch of his foot and he broke, a loud stream of laughter breaking free from his sealed lips.
"There you go chuckles! Y'know, I'm honestly surprised you even remember how to laugh," Lambert teased, raking his fingers up and down his ribs. That really drove him up the wall, his rumbly giggling picking up the pace.
"I guess that bard has really helped loosen you back up," Eskel mused. He scratched at his heels with blunt nails, making Geralt snort. He smirked, repeating the motion to invoke the same reaction. "That's right, you always were a snorter, weren't you?" he teased, throwing Geralt's own words back in his face.
His pale face showed the faintest tinge of pink, which for a witcher meant he probably wanted to curl up and die.
"Shuhuhut up, Ihihi'll kihihill you!" he threatened through his laughter. When Geralt gets tickled, he's all curses and weak threats and no bones: as in he basically has no control over his limbs. He flails about and curls into a ball simultaneously. Which is why it's so beneficial to pin him all stretched out like this.
"Sure you will," Eskel rolled his eyes, turning around to target his knees. Geralt barked out a yelp before deep yet bubbly giggles filled the air.
Lambert reaches down to knead into his sides, making him twist back and forth. "Say, does Jaskier know about this lil weakness of yours? I bet he does," he taunted with a feral grin.
"Fuck ohohoff! Lambert NOHOHO!" he screamed when he latched onto his hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs. He bucked like mad, eyes squeezed shut. When Geralt laughed, his eyes would squint closed and if you got him really going, his nose would scrunch up and you'd see his dimples shining. A rare and welcomed sight. His laugh was the deepest out of all of them; even when giggling his head off his voice is a tad gruff. His more frantic laugh was slightly higher pitched with a rich tenor to it. And when you really got him going, it would be these rich bellows of mirth that you could feel resonate in your own chest. And with how little he'd been laughing lately, it was a treat to hear.
Eskel's hands crawled up to dig into his thighs, squeezing and kneading the muscle. Booming cackles flew into the air, filling the room with the vibrant sound.
"I forgot that you're almost cute when you laugh like this," Lambert taunted, reaching up to pinch his cheeks. Even through his laughter, he tried to bite the offending hand. Lambert reared back and gave him a quick slap in warning.
"Oi, watch it! Or else I'll encourage that little bard of yours to turn this into a song," he threatened.
"No!" Geralt immediately barked out a protest. Eskel fixed Lambert with a look, brows raised.
"You do know that song would include us right?"
His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "Oh shit, yeah. I guess I didn't think that one through. That little bastard would probably do it too," Lambert said with a snort.
"Dohohon't cahahall him thahahat!" he scolded through growing hysterics. Lambert's grin was absolutely feral by now, as was Eskel's. Lambert spidered his blunt nails over his armpits, drawing out a shriek that dissolved into deep cackles. He leaned in, letting his breath ghost over his ear as he spoke, which added a giggly note to his laughter. He scrunched his shoulder up to his neck, shaking it back and forth as snickers poured from his mouth.
"Why ever not? You call him that all the time," he taunted, a sly smirk firmly in place. Eskel decided to join in.
"Why so defensive of him, hm?" he asked, hovering his hand in the shape of his signature claw. Geralt's eyes widened and he pressed into the floor, legs scrambling against the stone floor for purchase. When he didn't answer, Eskel dropped his hand closer to his stomach, wiggling his fingers menacingly. This caused Geralt to jolt with a preemptive, giggly yelp. Both his brothers burst into their own small laughing fit.
"You're both horrible," he grumbled, cheeks a decent shade of pink for a witcher. Lambert scratched his blunt nails up and down his arms and Geralt snorted, tugging on his arms furiously. His laugh was more high pitched, desperate and filled with snorts.
"You'd be sad if we were actually nice," Lambert shrugged smugly. "Look at you, all red like that. Y'know, with your hair it makes you look like a strawberry short cake," he taunted, barking out a laugh of his own.
Eskel looked up, lips quirking in a lopsided grin as he huffed out a laugh. "Heh, it kinda does." He finally let his hand drop all the way to his stomach, shaking into the muscle. Geralt bucked with a loud shriek, deep belly laughs practically shaking the room.
When his hysterics turned silent, they finally backed off. Geralt laid on the cool ground, panting for breath. They both rolled off of him, sprawling out next to him on the floor. A calm silence stretched between the three of them.
Eskel let out a loud breath, running a hand over his face. He still seemed rather flustered. "God did we really just have a tickle fight?" he groaned.
"If I recall, you started it," Geralt pointed out, a sly yet tired smile on his face. Eskel shook his head fondly and shoved him. "We all know Lambert was asking for it."
"Lambert's always asking for it."
"I am not! You assholes just love hanging up on me for no reason!" he shot back, point a finger at them.
"Oh there are many reasons," Geralt teased, earning a harsh tug on his hair that jerked his head down. He returned the favor, except Lambert was much whinier about it.
Lambert swatted his hand away, swaying a bit as he did so. "Welp, I'm piss drunk and I know neither of you have the balls to admit it, but that was fun. Let's do it again next year!" he declared, slowly pumping his fist in the air. He reached up, fumbling around on the table before he pulled down their drinks. Geralt and Eskel stared at him, expressions a mix of extreme amusement and disbelief as Lambert did a solo toast and downed the rest of his ale.
"I hope you know that even if you're too drunk to remember this tomorrow, I'll remind you of every word you just said," Eskel declared. "And that's a promise."
"Y'know what? I only mildly regret that. That's tomorrow me's problem now."
"Mm. I'll send your regards to future you," Geralt hummed.
Lambert mock glared, shooting him the bird. "There. Those are my regards."
Geralt smirked and cocked his head. "How lovely."
They grew quiet once more, all tired from their roughhousing. Eskel was the one to gather up enough blankets and furs to cushion the floor and keep them all warm. They piled in, using each other as pillows and quickly dozed off. They've never looked more like a pack of wolves in their den than in that moment. Loud snores shook the keep, echoing down the empty halls.
The winter is cold and harsh, and the trek to the keep is an utter misery. But Geralt wouldn't trade this time with his fellow wolves for anything in the world. At the end of the day, he supposed they were all just pups at heart.