Work Text:
Traveling alongside Jaskier was both the most awful and the best experience of his long, long life. Jaskier was loud, never stopped talking (or, worse, singing) and was a magnet for trouble even more potent than Geralt himself, which was saying a lot considering that Geralt's life seemed to consist in a stream of endless bad luck.
What surprised Geralt the most about it, though, was that he had grown used to the never-ending chatting and singing of Jaskier. When the bard was silent, it often meant trouble, not peace. He grew used to walking slower just so Jaskier could follow.
The danger of it was that he had been alone for his whole life and he didn't mind it much (or so he told himself) but now that he had tasted what companionship felt like, he dreaded loneliness more than ever before.
He would never tell any of that to the bard, obviously, but he felt it all the same. Sometimes, what he felt would translate into actions that he didn't fully understand. So, he controlled himself to be as blunt and unpleasant as he could. He didn't want to disappoint himself when Jaskier finally walked away.
Unfortunately, Jaskier didn't seem to mind it, nor his usual bad mood, or his lack of words or anything in between. He didn't want Jaskier to leave but he didn't know how to ask him to stay either. All he knew was that being blunt and unpleasant had worked to keep him by his side so far.
"Do you ever stop talking?"
They had been walking under a scalding sun for the past three hours while looking for the next village, and Jaskier had been talking non-stop since the beginning. Geralt had a headache that he named 'Jaskier' because the bard was the most likely origin of it.
"Yes, I sing sometimes," was his comeback. Geralt grunted in annoyance.
Then, he started singing. A big smile on his face that told Geralt that the little shit was doing it on purpose, knowing exactly the effect it would have.
"I should've let that monster kill you when I had the chance," he said loud enough so the bard could hear.
Jaskier pretended to be shocked, mouth open, eyes wide and hands covering his heart.
"Geralt, I know you could never do such a thing! What would you do without me?" Jaskier's tone was more dramatic than usual and he couldn't hide the smile threatening to surface.
Geralt himself was having a hard time containing his lips from moving upwards. Despite the headache, he enjoyed their banter. It was a long time since Geralt had someone so close to him.
He feared that, sooner rather than later, Jaskier would get tired of all this aimless walking and monster fighting. One day soon he would want to find someone and build a house in someplace where he could live happily ever after until old age. That's what humans did. Not Witchers. Witchers didn't get happy endings, only violent ones.
"I wouldn't care if you were eaten. Don't you know? I'm a Witcher. No feelings."
The mayor of the village that hired Geralt's services accused Geralt of not having feelings when they were leaving town. Geralt intended to say it lightly, as a joke, to keep the banter going but his tone wasn't light at all, it was pained and weary.
Humans often thought the worst of him simply for being a Witcher. They often thought the worst of everyone that wasn't human. And, very often, they thought the worst of themselves as well, shedding blood for money, honor, love, hate, prejudice, gods or any other excuse they came up with. Humans weren't better than he was but he had done enough bad things in his life to know that he wasn't better than any of them either. At least, he knew that.
"That's not true," Jaskier iasserted, voice almost sweet.
Geralt stopped his train of thought and stopped walking, looking back at the bard, who was eyeing him. He could read many emotions inside those eyes but refused to, he didn't want to see any pity in them.
"I'm serious, Geralt," he insisted, tone serious for the first time.
Jaskier gave one step in his direction, making it harder to ignore him or the light in his eyes. Geralt's face was stone cold, hiding any hint of emotions. He wanted this conversation to end, he wanted to be left alone. And, at the same time, he didn't want any of that. Being around Jaskier was always confusing like that.
"Look at me."
He touched the Witcher's upper arm and he was forced to stare the bard in the eyes he had been trying so hard to avoid. "You're not heartless. You're not very good at showing your emotions, other than anger and annoyance, of course."
Geralt growled in disapproval, proving Jaskier's point.
"But that's not because you don't have feelings. You have them, you just don't know what to do with them because everyone keeps telling you that you shouldn't have them."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, his tone defensive, almost aggressive.
"It means that no matter what is said about you, Witcher, I know you have a heart. I've seen in firsthand the size of it and it's larger and kinder than the heart of any human I've encountered before."
Jaskier was so honest at that moment that Geralt was at a loss for words. He rummaged through his memory, trying to find anyone that said something similar to him. Between master, colleagues, friends, lovers, and strangers, he couldn't recall words as kind as those that just came out of Jaskier's mouth. He didn't even know how to react to them.
"No sarcasm? No 'hmm'? No 'fuck you, bard'?"
His good humor was back on his voice as if he hadn't just shattered all of Geralt's understanding about himself.
"Did I break you?"
Yes, Geralt supposed he had. Or maybe he fixed him. It was hard to tell which considering he had been nothing but broken during his life.
In an impulse, an urge, an unexplainable feeling, he stepped closer to Jaskier, facing him from close enough that he could observe the details of those sky blue eyes. Holding the bard's face in his hand, he waited for a sign of what to do. He watched as Jaskier licked his lips and his pupils blew wide, and the Witcher smiled softly before joining their lips.
The touch was delicate, reverent. He was almost afraid that Jaskier would fade out and he would find himself in a dream moments before it turned into a nightmare. He finished the kiss and kept staring into those eyes, touching his face, expecting him to disappear at any time.
What actually happened, because this was not a dream nor a nightmare, was Jaskier saying:
"Oh, fucking finally!"
Then, not even two seconds later, he threw himself at Geralt, legs around his waist and arms behind his head, gluing their lips together with far more urgency than Geralt did moments ago. It was a good thing that the Witcher had inhuman strength, otherwise, they would've fallen to the ground.
"You know how long I've been waiting for you to do that?" Jaskier asked after he was finally able to stop kissing him.
Geralt was stunned, the feeling of Jaskier's lips against his own and the weight of him in his arms the only thing allowing him to believe this was indeed happening.
"You wanted me to kiss you?"
He still didn't believe this, even if he was sure that it was real.
"Oh, yeah. And so much more than kissing," he commented, unapologetically lewd. "It has been torture all these months with you. You walking around naked two steps away from me, cuddling me during cold nights, saving my life, and all I wanted to do was this but I couldn't. Torture of the cruelest kind."
"Why didn't you say something?"
"I didn't think you were interested, with your whole brooding and lonely wolf thing." He kissed Geralt one more time, full of energy and feeling. "But none of that matters now, waters under the bridge and all that."
"We should talk-"
"Now you want to talk? No, no, no, we shouldn't talk. Talk leads to rational decisions. And wasted time. Why talk when we should be kissing? And fucking! Please, let's not talk."
He kissed Geralt again, hungry for those kisses in a way that was making the Witcher hungry too.
"If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I would've done it sooner." He smirked, no heat behind his words, only amusement.
"Oh, shut up you!" He kissed Geralt one more time, to better inflict his order. "Now, take off this coat of yours."
"Not in front of Roach."
Geralt looked at his horse, grazing in peace at a distance. Jaskier rolled his eyes, bud said: "Fine," right before coming down from Geralt and walking into the woods, in the opposite direction of the horse. He was walking faster than ever, nothing similar to his usual slow pace.
"Didn't know you could walk this fast," Geralt mocked.
"You're lucky I'm too horny to care about your commentary," he shouted. "Walk faster, Witcher!"
Geralt caught himself smiling and didn't bother to mask it, he simply followed the bard, while leaving behind his darkest thoughts, his gloom and a path of discarded armor and clothes.
Maybe traveling alongside Jaskier was nothing but the best experience of his life.
Maybe his days of loneliness were behind him.
Maybe he didn't have to hide his emotions anymore.
Maybe a happy ending was ahead of both of them.
Maybe, maybe, maybe... There were a lot of those on his mind but, right now, all he wanted was to be next to that annoying bard for as long and as close as he could (preferably naked). He was content with that and, for the first time, he was hopeful for what the future would bring.