#i love this geralt so much sdkkldsklds
mortician au meet-cute. (is it a meet-cute?). read the series on ao3!
Geralt is giving Renfri some nice neck scratches when Aiden comes in through the door, the little bell above it giving a nice little chime.
“Morning,” he says cheerfully, dropping a crisp newspaper on Geralt’s kitchen table and making a beeline for the old moka pot, stainless steel glinting in the grey morning light coming through the window. Geralt still wonders when it was, exactly, that Aiden became a permanent fixture in the Morhen house.
Probably around the time Lambert started messing around with spells, rites, and harmless, bloodless sacrifices.
Probably.
“Morning,” he answers, his voice still a bit rough with disuse. “Please, help yourself to some coffee,” he says, eyebrows raised, as Aiden begins pouring himself a second cup.
“Got anyone in today?” He wonders, nodding to the dark green door that leads to the mortuary downstairs. “The paper says there’s been a car crash.”
Geralt shakes his head. “No one in yet. But I’m sure they’ll start coming soon.”
Aiden nods sympathetically. This is why Geralt likes him, he’s reminded — anyone else would shudder at the dark yet accurate prediction, but he simply shrugs and begins snooping around Geralt’s kitchen, as he often does, lifting pot lids and making spoons clatter against the marble tabletop.
“Lambert is in The Room,” he says gently, mentally nudging Aiden out of his kitchen and into his brother’s embalming room, affectionately and ominously nicknamed The Room. “If you were looking for him.”
“Oh.” Aiden deposits his mug into the sink, frowning slightly at it, and then looks at Geralt in belated recognition. “Yes! That’s why I came in, in the first place, of course. Thank you for the coffee.”
Geralt shakes his head at his retreating figure. “No problem.” The newspaper is still sitting on his table, and he turns back to Renfri, who’s looking up at him with curiosity painted on her green eyes. “Looks like we’ll have some work to do today, hmm?”
