Modern au. Drunk Lambert does not make good decisions. C/W for medicinal drug use.

Lambert woke up feeling like something had died in his mouth while its little friends were busy burrowing through his skull and using his brain as a trampoline.

He cursed as he pulled himself upright, the smell of bacon coming from downstairs making him feel both hungry and nauseous as he realised he was still in last night’s jeans and t-shirt. What the hell had he gotten up to?

His head hurt even more as he tried to remember. He had vague recollections of someone’s lips on his, another tongue in his mouth, another body pressed against his and pulling him closer in some dark corner of the club – all the evidence was suggesting he hadn’t bought them home with him this time though (he was never one for getting down and dirty in alleyways or club bathrooms). He shrugged internally, at least he apparently still got some action last night, even if it was just a bit of necking.

Lambert heard Geralt snoring away in the guest room before he staggered past a blanket covered lump on the couch that could only be a still sleeping Eskel and into the kitchen to find his housemate and best friend (and secret crush), Aiden sat at the wobbly table, sweater hood pulled up and looking about as miserable as Lambert felt. Jaskier, his brother Geralt’s occasional fuck buddy, was dancing and singing at the stove, covered in hickies and looking fresh as a daisy as he tried to avoid the grease the bacon was spitting at him from the pan (Lambert wanted to know exactly who the other man had sold his soul to that he never got hangovers. He suspected Yenn).

“Good morning, Lovely!” Jaskier called out, “Fresh bacon’s almost done and there’s coffee in the pot.

Lambert grunted his thanks as he filled a mug and took his usual spot next to Aiden, rather than give him the usual conspiratorial grin and eye roll over Jaskier’s antics, the other pointedly looked away, stabbing and playing with the remains of his own breakfast on the plate in front of him.

Lambert tried to chalk it up to Aiden just feeling shit too – whether through over indulging the previous night or from his old head injury acting up again - but after the third attempt at trying to engage him in conversation it was starting to become crystal clear the other was ignoring him.

“It’s a shame you left early, Aiden. You missed out on the hilarity that was Eskel trying to chat up a cardboard cut-out.” Jaskier sighed, sliding a plate of bacon in front of Lambert as he took one of the free seats, resting his coffee on a bent knee, “Speaking of though. Correct me if I’m wrong but,” He got that look on his face he always wore when he sensed good gossip and waved a finger between the two of them, “Did you two…”

“Kiss? Depends on what you call a kiss. Personally, being body-slammed into a wall then violently made out with isn’t a kiss.”

Aiden got up from the table while Lambert choked on his bacon. Fuck, no wonder Aiden was giving him the cold shoulder this morning! But wait…Aiden had reciprocated, right (Lambert would be wearing the evidence on his face if he’d overstepped. He’d personally cheered over witnessing Aiden break the nose of more than one creep). So why exactly was he mad?

He threw a confused look at Jaskier, who wisely took a large gulp of coffee and said nothing.

He found Aiden outside in the yard, hood still up against the light rain and the dregs of a joint in hand as he stared at nothing in particular. Lambert hadn’t been completely off about the head injury then - the result of a serious case of mistaken identity years ago.

“Look, I get it if you’re mad about last night-”

“I’m not mad, Lambert.” Aiden sighed, the first words he’d spoken to him all morning, “Right now, I’m feeling kind of sorry for your past hookups. That wasn’t a kiss, that was a mauling.”

“Well, I’ve never had any complaints before.”

“Well, maybe I just have higher standards than your usual Jonny Six-Shots.”

“Didn’t stop you from sticking your tongue in my mouth.” Lambert snapped, too hungover for whatever game this was, “So what the fuck do you call a kiss then if you’re such a god damn connoisseur?” Aiden’s mouth was pressed into a thin line as he avoided his eye, “No, no. Why so silent suddenly? C’mon. Show me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Fucking charming.”

“I don’t want to, because I like you too much.” Aiden told his shoes.

Now it was Lambert’s turn to fall silent.

Aiden gave a sad smile as he crossed his arms over his chest, “I thought last night when you kissed me, maybe you...but then I realised how drunk you were and for Christ’s sake, you’ve thrown yourself at Jaskier before he and Geralt were a thing when you’ve had too much.”

“Jaskier was a one time thing, and a mistake.”

“Exactly.” Aiden arms had migrated so they were now wrapped around his torso in a semblance of a hug as he looked up at Lambert, “So was the guy before him, and the guy before him. I’m not going to be considered another mistake, nor do I want to be kissing you just to prove a point. And you’re an asshole if you decide to push that now you know how I feel.”

Lambert felt like he’d just taken a sucker punch to the chest as all the air left his body.

“Aiden, I didn’t-”

“It’s fine. Forget it, I’ll get over it. I’m going back to bed, migraine. Say bye to the others for me when they leave.”