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“Don’t you just--” Jaskier swooped his hands together and clasped them as though in prayer “--heal?”
He knelt in front of Geralt, who grimaced drunkenly. “T’hell you think witchers are made of?”
“Yes, right. Yes.” said Jaskier. He’d only been traveling with Geralt for a few months, and he was still learning. “Sorry.” He drummed his fingers absently against his knees.
“Hmmm,” said Geralt.
That noise meant ‘it’s fine’. Jaskier knew that one at least. He began to unlace Geralt’s boot. The witcher had twisted it earlier, and Geralt was still limping.
“Wanna know a witcher secret?” rumbled Geralt. His voice was even lower and huskier when he was drunk. Jaskier tried to ignore how adorable it was.
“And what would that be?” asked Jaskier, nose crinkled, engrossed in picking apart a stubborn knot.
“Beer‘s the secret to th’healing process,” said Geralt. “Cause--” he waved his hands “mutations.” He inhaled lazily. “Sooooooo more beer please.”
Jaskier looked up at him and squinted dubiously.
“Was...was that a *joke* Geralt?” he asked.
“Hmmmm.” Geralt hummed in the affirmative.
“Frightening,” whispered Jaskier, as he once again focused on the boot.
Geralt pushed his shoulder gently.
“Ow,” said Jaskier, with a bit more drama than was strictly necessary. “You’ve had quite enough for one night, my friend.”
Geralt slumped against the chair defeated. But Jaskier could feel the witcher’s eyes watching him intently.
”You didn’t have any.” Geralt said.
”Well,” said Jaskier. “Someone had to help your injured, lumbering, muscular—“ his voice trailed off as he forgot his point.
“You helped me,” said Geralt. He wasn’t slurring exactly. But the edges of his words fuzzed.
When Geralt had twisted his ankle, Jaskier had helped him onto Roach. He’d also helped him to a table full of drinks, then up the stairs to their room.
“Yes, yes, of course I did,” said Jaskier absently. He ran the tip of his tongue across his top lip as he worked on the boot. He managed to pull the laces open and loosen the tongue of the boot. He didn’t want to hurt Geralt’s ankle when he removed it.
He felt a finger tangle in his hair and his eyes shot up to Geralt.
“S’ not of course.” Said Geralt. He seemed incredibly serious for being a man who was making no sense. “You’re not of course.” His eyes looked soft and it took Jaskier aback.
Jaskier took the witcher's hand and untangled it from his hair. He lowered it back down to the witcher’s own knee.
“Yes, it is of course.” said Jaskier. “Of course I will always help you. Always.”
Geralt lifted his hand again, only this time he placed his finger on the tip of Jaskier’s nose. It was an entirely unprecedented gesture and Jaskier had to make an effort not to show his surprise.
“You are friend shaped,” Geralt said simply.
Geralt being...sweet...and awkwardly touching his nose shouldn’t make him feel so very special, should it? He smiled up at his friend.
“And I love you,” said Geralt.
Jaskier froze.
He couldn’t have heard that correctly. He looked stupidly at Geralt waiting for him to laugh. But he didn’t. Geralt just kept gazing at him with a soft, tender expression.
That was far more than sweet. That was...well...Geralt had to be hallucinating. “Oh dear inebriated man,” said Jaskier. “I am Jaskier. J-a-s-k-i-e-r. Your annoying bard.”
Geralt chuckled. “Annoying bard.”
Yeah, that’s what he thought. Perhaps some other time Jaskier would reckon with the abject disappointment that flooded him. Geralt’s hand slipped down Jaskier’s cheek and back to his own lap.
“Very funny,” said Jaskier. “Hilarious,” he huffed as he gingerly eased Geralt’s puffy ankle from his boot. “I’ll have you know, I wouldn’t fall in love with a monosyllabic witcher anyway. One day I shall marry a poet.”
Geralt made a noise that was a cross between a huff and a bark. Spittle landed on Jaskier’s forearm. He wiped it off with a grimace.
“Stop spitting on me, you oaf,” grumbled Jaskier.
“Hmph. You think you want a poet.” said Geralt. He giggled. Jaskier had never heard Geralt giggle. Laugh, sure. But giggle? His eyes shot back up to look at the witcher.
The room was dark except for moonlight coming in from the window and a small lantern the innkeeper had lit for them. Geralt’s eyes shone in the flickering light. The shadows softened his angular cheekbones. Had Jaskier noticed how beautiful he was before?
No. No he wasn’t beautiful. He was Geralt. And Geralt was drunk and speaking nonsense.
“And what’s so funny about that?” asked Jaskier, as he gently removed Geralt’s sock. “Poets make wonderful partners.”
Geralt stretched and clasped his fingers behind his neck. Jaskier studiously avoided looking up at the muscular torso laid out in front of him.
“Cause Valdo--” Geralt drew out the troubadours name with a sneering relish, “--turned out so well.” He threw his arms wide in an approximation of a gesture Jaskier made often. He wrinkled his nose and looked defiantly at Jaskier.
Jaskier sputtered. “Oi. I told you that in confidence.”
Geralt rolled his eyes. “Didn’t. You tell ev-ryone you hate him.”
“Alright, true,” said Jaskier. He returned his gaze to Geralt’s ankle, looking carefully for swelling.
Maybe the drunkard was right. Jaskier had always just assumed that he would one day marry a poet. He wanted a man who complimented him after all. Who adored him. But he hadn’t enjoyed sharing the spotlight. Maybe two peacocks had been too many for a relationship.
“You like me,” came Geralt’s voice, slurred and smug.
It shocked him from his reverie and he looked up at Geralt again. Geralt pursed his lips. “Yep,” he said.
“Oh and you’re so sure,” said Jaskier. He began removing Geralt’s other boot.
“Can smell it,” said Geralt. He tilted up his chin.
Godsdamnit. “You can--ugh,” said Jaskier. Fucking of course Geralt could scent lust. He shook his head. “Well. Fine. You’re an attractive man, I suppose. In a gorgeous, carved of marble, onion smelling, adonis sort of way. If you’re into that sort of thing.” He’d finished taking off Geralt’s other boot and he slapped his own thighs in frustration.
Geralt grinned.
“Yeah well, don’t let your head swell,” Jaskier said.
Geralt raised his eyebrows.
“Gah, you know what I mean.” said Jaskier. “Don’t get all full of yourself. It’s just lust, Geralt. I lust after everyone in case you didn’t notice.”
Geralt shook his head. “S’different. You love me.”
“What the fuck has gotten into you tonight,” groaned Jaskier. He took the bandage he’d made from one of his tunics and coiled it tightly around the hurt ankle.
He had just tied off the bandage when he felt Geralt’s solid form lean towards him. He looked up and Geralt was in his space. Close enough that Jaskier felt a rush of surprise and eagerness. He smelled Geralt’s warm breath, the faint scent of ale and saw the way Geralt was looking at him. Like he was a treasure.
Geralt’s hands took his face and all he could do was be led to the witcher’s lips. Sink into them. Find himself dizzy from the abrupt, intense passion. Dissolve into bliss. Understand.
He slid his hands up Geralt’s thighs and kissed him back. But when Geralt licked into his mouth and he felt his cock respond, he detached himself regretfully.
A whine escaped Geralt’s soft, open lips. Jaskier wished they didn’t glisten like that in the moonlight. He looked at Jaskier as though wounded.
“Geralt.” Jaskier took both of his hands in his and squeezed them. “This is an ---extremely welcome revelation.” He looked carefully into Geralt’s eyes.
Geralt’s face shaped once again into a smug smile.
“But I am not this kind of cad. You’re drunk. We will talk about this in the morning. Let’s get you to bed.”
Geralt sighed and shrugged.
“Alright.” He heaved himself up to lean against Jaskier. Geralt probably didn’t need to bring his other hand around to steady himself against Jaskier’s hip, but it certainly warmed Jaskier’s body when he did.
Jaskier leaned over to help Geralt plop into bed. Geralt flopped onto the mattress. As Jaskier pulled away to find his bedclothes, a strong arm wrapped around his waist and yanked.
Jaskier stumbled and sat down clumsily on top of the prone tipsy witcher. He twisted around to cup Geralt’s cheek and tilt the witcher’s face towards him.
“Geralt, I won’t take advantage.”
Geralt whined. “--S’not that. C’mon lay down.”
Geralt tugged Jaskier down again, sprawling him out onto the bed, tangling them in the sheets.
Jaskier laughed and desperately twisted to remove his own shoes before relenting and snuggling down into the blankets with Geralt.
The witcher’s voice was now in Jaskier’s ear, his lips sending shivers down his spine. “Just. C’mere.”
He felt Geralt’s solid warm mountainous body shift and wiggle behind him until every part of him was pressed against every part of Geralt, and the witcher’s arms and legs were wrapped around him like a sloth to a tree branch.
He relaxed and allowed himself to melt back into Geralt.
“S-ok?” asked Geralt.
“Yes, Geralt. This is just fine.”
If anything, it was heaven.
Geralt nuzzled into the back of his neck and his breathing slowed. Just as Jaskier thought Geralt had fallen asleep, the witcher whispered into his neck.
“Roses are red.” He said. Then there was a moment of silence. Jaskier didn’t rush to fill it. He awaited.
“You're furry like a bear.” Continued Geralt.
Jaskier snorted.
“Violets are blue,” continued the witcher. There was another stretch of silence, which Geralt filled by planting several chaste kisses onto Jaskier’s neck, making goosebumps rise on his arms and legs.
“And I like your stupid hair,” Geralt finished triumphantly.
Jaskier began to giggle, and his giggle rolled into a dizzy, helpless cackle.
His back shook against Geralt, who was giggling too, puffing breath into his ear.
“M’a poet.” said Geralt. “Happy?” He squeezed his arms tighter around Jaskier’s waist.
“Very.” said Jaskier.
Geralt nipped him playfully on the shoulder.
“Now none of that,” said Jaskier. “Only if you still want to in the morning.”
“Will.” said Geralt. “Will want.”
Despite Geralt’s inebriation, Jaskier knew that was the truth. Geralt of Rivia was many things but a good actor wasn’t one of them.
So Jaskier tugged Geralt’s heavy, relaxed hands up to his lips and kissed them on each knuckle.
“I love you too,” he murmured.
Because that was also the truth.