Young Wolves, part 6! on AO3 here!(eternal thanks to @asparrowsfall for the beta and general awesome

Young Wolves, part 6! on AO3 here!(eternal thanks to @asparrowsfall for the beta and general awesomeness)fic and warnings under the cut!(CW: mild canon-typical homophobia, feelings)Anyone visiting a wintering witcher keep would find it full of the same sort of warm bustle as the most welcoming tavern. Kaer Morhen at wintertime is filled to the brim with camaraderie, laughter, shouting, fighting, drinking, off-key singing, gambling, and sex. The main hall may even look like the hall of a feasting lord’s castle, when staff gets hired from surrounding villages to keep the School of the Wolf fed and clean for the winter, and ordinary folk mingle with the witchers.Winter has always been the most exciting time of the year for young witchers. Eskel didn’t especially enjoy training in snow and ice, but witchers coming home from the Path was enough to have him, too, looking forward to wintertime every year. When they were all younger, it was the time for tales, warm hearths, and staying up past their bedtime, but as they grew older, a keep full of rowdy witchers mixing with ordinary folk was exciting for slightly different reasons.As different as witchers are from ordinary youth, there are still certain things that are universal to all young people in that strange age between childhood and adulthood. Witchers are taught to be curious, and when that turns around on their teachers and elders, it quickly goes from inquisitive to meddlesome. Some – Master Aurus, perhaps; Vesemir, for sure – would say that sneaking around and spying on their elders in moments of intimacy was not an appropriate way to test their enhanced agility and stealth, but the young witchers certainly found it amusing.When Geralt, Eskel, Karim and Mirov get caught peeping in the doorway of witcher Georgei’s room by Master Aurus, they all bolted off down the hallway, yelling and snickering all the way. They hear the two interrupted witchers scramble to cover themselves, and when the fleeing boys come to a breathless stop around a corner, and Master Aurus’s voice carries over, scolding Georgei and Tomas, for not noticing ‘the nosy pups at their door’.“I thought they were best friends!” Karim whispers, when the young witchers gather at his and Mirov’s shared room, bursting with energy and gossip.Geralt scoffs. “Please, don’t tell me you think that happens only between lovers?”“No,” Karim shoots back, a little too quick not to be defensive, “but they seemed to be going at it like, uh, like lovers.”“Witchers don’t have lovers, you twit,” Mirov says with a mocking smile and a shove, and Geralt notices Eskel flinching out of the corner of his eye.“Shut your stupid mouth, Mirov,” Geralt cuts in, “I’ve heard the others talking about women they visit every year on the Path, like Witcher Eugen and his sorceress. What are they, then, if not lovers?” It is a feeble argument, and Geralt must know it, but he still sets his jaw firmly.Mirov rolls his eyes. “Those are women. Warm beds and whores to visit when on the Path. No one in their right mind would choose a man for a lover, much less a witcher. Not when it can get you chased out of town or beat half to death out there.””Maybe they didn’t choose. Maybe it just happened,” Eskel cuts in, with a tone he hopes does not betray emotion. The group around him falls silent, and Geralt shoots him a grateful look.Karim opens his mouth again and, oblivious to Eskel’s glare, goes right back into it. ”Still, why a witcher? I know they don’t travel the Path together, so they get to see each other once a year, wintering here, if they’re lucky.”“And why a witcher like Georgei, of all people? Couldn’t Tomas have just about anyone prettier or softer than Georgei?” Mirov says.Geralt shoves him off the bed. Witcher Georgei has lived a life that’s been rough even by witcher standards, and it shows on his scarred face.“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Geralt snarls. His mouth is twisted in a grimace and he looks ready to punch Mirov, but his eyes have a distressed, confused look in them, like he doesn’t understand why he’s reacting this way himself.Mirov scoffs a laugh as soon as he gets back upright on the floor. “What, you think someone malformed and mutated is a real catch, then?”Geralt snarls again, then whips around and storms out. Eskel gets up and goes after him without even sparing a glance at the other two left in the room.He finds Geralt in front of the door to their shared room, gripping the handle, but not opening it. He moves closer and gets Geralt to turn around with a hand on his shoulder, but he doesn’t meet Eskel’s eyes. Geralt’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, and Eskel knows the distant look in his eyes. He is getting caught up in his head, same way he used to right after the experiments, when everything was raw and fragile and frightening. Eskel puts his hands on the back of Geralt’s head, weaves his fingers through the silver-white strands, and brings their foreheads together in a familiar gesture of comfort. Geralt’s hands come up to grasp at his collar.After a few silent moments, Geralt seems to find his footing again, and he huffs a short breath.“Mirov is an idiot. He–” Eskel starts, but Geralt cuts him off.“It’s not him. It’s not just him.”Geralt opens his eyes, but doesn’t move to separate them. Eskel can tell his thoughts are running away from him again, but he’s doing his best to catch them. Eskel grips his neck a little harder.“Is that another thing we’re just supposed to do? Keep your head down, obey orders, don’t feel fear or pain. Don’t feel anything at all. Better not to have distractions.” Geralt speaks in stops and starts, trying to untangle his thoughts as he goes, and only half-succeeding in it. He leans his back against the door, and Eskel’s hands slide to rest on his shoulders, reluctant to break the contact. ”Is that why we try to make everyone believe we don’t feel emotion? Because a life on the path makes relationships hard?”“I think it’s easier to pretend that, and not even try,” Eskel says, “but I don’t think it works.”He wants to say more. He’s biting at his tongue and holding it in, and he knows Geralt can see the hesitation on his face, and he hopes he doesn’t take it the wrong way. He wants to start unfurling the mess that’s been building in his head for what feels like years, as his and Geralt’s lives have wound themselves tighter and tighter together, until one can barely exist without the other. He wants to know if Geralt has been walking the same sort of precarious edge as he has been. But he doesn’t know, he can’t know for sure. Don’t go into a fight before you have all the information. It’s been drilled into him, so he waits, until Geralt opens his mouth again.“Why don’t they tell us what it’s like on the path, other than the hunts, or the disrespect, or the hate. Does everyone just forget about friends and lovers when the path forces them to move on?” Geralt’s voice is hollow, and a small, wounded noise escapes Eskel’s throat.He grips the back of Geralt’s head again, and knocks their foreheads together with little too much force. There are a thousand reassurances he wants to say, wants to swear that he won’t forget, that they won’t be parted, but in the end all that comes out of his mouth is ”I don’t know.” Still, Geralt’s hands tighten their grip on his neck, and it feels like a promise. -- source link

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