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'I'm King of the Pumpkin Patch!' Gaetan hollered from where he stood precariously atop a stack of hay bales, holding an absolutely massive pumpkin high above his head.
Aiden stared up at him and shook his head. How the fuck had the night gone this badly sideways?
Like most things, it had been Lambert's fault, although according to Lambert, it was almost certainly Eskel or Geralt's fault. Or whoever else happened to be nearby at the time. What it was not, was Lambert's fault. Except it was. It always was. He was the single most chaotic person Aiden knew, even when he was attempting to make sure there was no chaos at all.
This particular bout of chaos had started with the cider. It had been very good cider. So good, in fact, that Lambert had declared they could just leave the truck at the pub and walk back to the holiday cottage they'd rented. It was only a couple of miles and it was a travesty if Geralt didn't get to try the cider just because he was driving.
Of course, it was one of those gorgeous mid-Autumn nights that still held the heat of summer so, no one really minded the walk. Geralt had caved to Lambert's persuasion and tried the cider. It was exactly as good as he'd been promised.
That was the second problem.
The cider really was delicious and the evening stretched out before them, warmth and sunlight fading slowly into cool shadow. They ate and drank and then they kept drinking. By the time they were thinking about heading home, no one had kept track of the rounds but all of them had drunk more than they'd really intended to. No one was falling over drunk, but all of them were tipsy and some people were well into sloshed territory - Gaetan and Lambert among them.
Eskel had rounded them all up and made sure no one had left phones, wallets or keys lying anywhere they shouldn't be since his size and constitution meant he was the most in possession of his faculties and he was usually the only one of them who tended towards responsibility at the best of times. He'd set them off on the right road, winding up and out of the village towards the open countryside.
The third problem was that Eskel, for all he was a big man, had a tiny bladder.
He’d stopped to 'examine a tree' at the side of the road and the rest of them had just carried on walking, Lambert in the lead. Aiden would later blame his own inebriation and a particularly fascination conversation with Geralt for the fact he hadn't noticed and called a halt until Eskel caught up.
Inevitably, they got lost. Lambert was a wonderful, highly skilled man who couldn't find his glasses when they were on the end of his nose, let alone navigate to somewhere he'd been only once before while half cut. In a moving vehicle, with a map, he was highly competent and had a surprising memory for shortcuts. On foot, he lost all bearings.
It wasn't until Aiden looked up and realised he'd definitely not seen the pumpkin patch on the way to the pub that he suddenly noticed what had happened. Focusing on the walk, he was pretty sure he knew exactly where they'd gone wrong but, before he could say anything, Gaetan had noticed the sign.
'Pumpkins!' he cried and gleefully lurched his way over to the gate.
'Gaetan, no,' Aiden called, already knowing it was futile. His younger brother had never been willing to part with a new toy once he'd spotted it and he loved Halloween with all his being.
Eskel caught up just as the last of them hopped the fence. Aiden heard him let out the most heartfelt and doleful sigh he could muster before he hopped over and joined them. No doubt he'd made the same calculation as Aiden - they weren't going to be able to prevent whatever happened next so they might as well join in, try and have some fun and mitigate as much damage as possible in the process.
To be fair to their brothers, there wasn't much damage. They romped up and down the rows of shiny orange gourds, occasionally tripping over each other, rogue tufts of grass, or nothing much at all, examining each one and extolling its virtues before moving on. Each of the pumpkins was declared 'beautiful' or 'stunning' or 'looks like it would make good soup'. Aiden was just beginning to think they were going to get away without too much chaos when he heard Gaetan bellow.
How Gaetan got to the top of the hay bales, Aiden would never know. With the amount of cider he'd imbibed it should have been an impossible feat. Yet, when Aiden turned around, there he was standing tall atop the highest of the stack. He was holding a pumpkin. Not only was he holding a pumpkin, he was holding what was likely the biggest pumpkin Aiden had ever seen in his life directly above his head. Now, Aiden was well aware that Gaetan was significantly stronger than his scrawny looking frame would suggest, but he was still mystified by the logistics of not only climbing the hay bales, but dragging the pumpkin with him. It was an incredible and largely unlikely feat.
He did the only reasonable thing under the circumstances. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took several pictures of his new monarch.
'He's going to break his neck,' Eskel pointed out, striding up to stand next to him.
'He's going to break that pumpkin,' Aiden sighed. No doubt they'd have to come back in the morning, sheepish and vaguely hungover to pay for the glorious specimen.
Lambert, being Lambert, chose that moment to make everything worse.
'Do a flip!' he bellowed.
Aiden switched his phone to video mode.
On the upside, Gaetan placed the pumpkin carefully on top of the hay, bestowing upon it a gently reverent pat before he did anything else.
On the downside, he had still not learned why drunken gymnastics were contraindicated for the continuing integrity of bones.
The flip was a thing of beauty. Gaetan was, Aiden would admit only under duress (or significant quantities of cider), very athletic and good at the gymnastics he'd been practising since he was a child. He couldn't take any sort of run up since he was standing on hay, but he still managed an impressive distance forward, throwing himself into a front flip that was as close to technically perfect as a mostly drunk guy could manage.
The problem, because there was always a problem, was the landing.
Gaetan was good at gymnastics, but the alcohol and the slippery nature of slightly damp grass and hay combined to create a landing surface that had as much in common with a mat as Aiden had in common with a fish finger. He did not stick the landing. It looked, for a long glorious second like he was going to, and then he was lying on the ground staring up at the sky.
'Ow,' he said, the word drifting over the cool breeze with a sense of ominous understatement.
Aiden was already moving, Eskel thankfully at his side. He got there in time to press Gaetan back down when he tried to get up, not willing to trust that he wouldn't immediately fall back over.
'What hurts?' he asked, already able to see the answer.
'Twisted my ankle,' Gaetan whined, wearing the pout that hadn't been adorable since he was a toddler, but that he still insisted on whipping out every time he was even mildly inconvenienced.
It was probably a good thing that the alcohol and Gaetan's own impressive pain tolerance were cushioning him a little because he certainly had done something to his ankle. Twisted was probably not the word Aiden would have used though. Broken was more realistic. Shattered also came to mind.
'Why the fuck is it always you?' he muttered, not really expecting an answer.
He looked down at his phone, realised he was still recording and stopped the video. At least they'd have a record of the idiocy for when it inevitably turned into a funny anecdote in a few years. He called 999 and waited for it to connect. At least he had signal, he supposed, given they were out in the arse end of the countryside. He sighed. It was supposed to have been a nice evening stroll back to the cottage and now they needed a paramedic. The worst thing was how utterly unsurprised Aiden found himself. Of course this was how it ended.
This was definitely all Lambert's fault.