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There's the faint strains of familiar singing coming from the inn as they turn into the stable yard where the two of them are planning to stop for the night. Something in Geralt loosens at the sound, but what he doesn't expect is for Ciri to gasp and twist to tug on his sleeve.
"It's Jaskier! He played at some of Grandma's feasts! He's very good, he even danced with me a few times. Can we go in and listen for a bit?" Geralt hadn't realised the bard had gone back to Cintra after that first disastrous ball, it was something he'd never mentioned.
"Alright." They shouldn't and they both knew it, but the thought of heading straight to a room and eating there, as they'd done previously, sent a pang through his chest with Jaskier so close. Geralt owed him an apology anyway.
"Remember, introduce yourself as Fiona, even if he recognises you. He'll catch on." He catches the edge of her cloak as she turns away and carefully tucks her pale hair out of sight in her hood before nodding and waving her off, turning back to settle Roach.
Jaskier's still in full swing when he gets inside, and is so focused on his performance that Geralt can push through the crowd enough to see his pack by his feet without being seen. He turns to the bar and asks for a room with two beds then settles at a table slightly round the corner and out of sight of the bard.
He closes his eyes and focuses on Ciri, sounding like she's bouncing on the balls of her feet as Jaskier starts the familiar tune of Toss a Coin to your Witcher. Something loosens in Geralt at that, proof that Jaskier hadn't put him out of his mind and cut him out of his life completely. He finishes with a flourish and there's the soft tinkle of coins being tossed, presumably in his direction, then Ciri moves towards the front of the crowd.
"Well hello there Little One."
"Hi." Ciri sound much shyer than he's ever heard her over the last few weeks. "I liked your music. Oh! I'm Fiona."
"Hey Fiona, you here with anyone?"
"My dad." Geralt's breath catches at how easily she says that, and he nearly misses Jaskier's whispered reply.
"So he found you then?"
She hums an affirmative. "Do you want to join us for food?"
"I uhh, don't know if I'm welcome."
The hesitancy in his voice spurs Geralt to stick his head round the corner, "Jaskier get over here."
"Of course." He sees his eyes dart towards the door but then Ciri's grabbing both his pack and his free hand to tug him across the inn.
He drops onto the bench opposite Geralt, the line of his shoulders tense. His hair's a little longer, clothes still fancy but maybe a bit more worn and the elven lute is still over his shoulder, now on a new strap decorated with yellow flowers. One of the barmaids come over after a moment, delivering food for all three of them with a smile and a wink at Jaskier.
"Geralt, I…" He trails off rubbing a hand over his face before offering a small forced smile and turning to his plate. Ciri catches Geralt’s eye and frowns between the two of them, but thankfully stays silent.
After a moment of just watching he sighs and sticks a leg out, hooking an ankle round the bard's, startling him into looking up. "I apologise," Jakier freezes, spoon halfway to his mouth, "for what I said last time I saw you. I … wasn't fair to you, and I didn't… I don't…"
"I know." His eyes are surprisingly soft when Geralt finally meets his eyes, and his smile's far more genuinely now. "But I appreciate the apology."
Geralt had expected anger honestly, rather than what seems to be some kind of fond acceptance; guilt catches in his throat and he quickly picks up his mug to hide whatever expression he’s making. Jaskier raises an eyebrow but returns to his food, seemingly more relaxed. Ciri carries most of the following conversation, asking where he's been performing since she'd last seen him, but he doesn't move his feet away from the witcher’s.
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"I didn't realise you'd met Ciri."
"You didn't seem to be interested in her." He's still more subdued then Geralt's never seen him, pacing awkwardly in the limited room and fidgeting with his lute. He keeps moving to strum it but then looking over at Ciri asleep on the other bed, hands stilling.
Geralt sighs, "Come here."
"What?"
"Come here Jaskier." Geralt hates the hesitance the bard approaches him with, and the slight flinch when he reaches out a hand to take the lute and prop it against the wall. "Why aren't you angrier at me?"
At that he abruptly drops onto the bed next to Geralt, a puppet with its strings cut, and he barely catches Jaskier's next words. "I was. For a long time."
Geralt slowly reaches out to wrap an arm round his waist, light enough to shake off if he wanted to. "What changed?"
"I got tired." He instead leans in, resting his head on his Geralt's shoulder. "And I missed you. If you'd run into me a few months ago, I don't know…" he trails off with a shrug. "You weren't having a great day and I was there, sticking my nose in as always."
"Shouldn't have taken it out on you though."
"No, you shouldn't. But what's done is done. You're here now, apologies and all." Jaskier reaches out to catch his fingers, turning Geralt's hand over to trace a finger up a new scar on the inside of his arm.
"Fiend, a few weeks back. Big brute, also caught my shoulder." He trips over the next words more than he should considering how long they've known each other. "I've missed you too."
"Geralt?" The surprise that colours his voice makes him feel somehow worse, and he moves automatically to tuck Jaskier against his chest.
"I'm sorry." He buries his face in dark hair.
"I haven't seen you in over a year, and now multiple apologies in one day. Who knew acquiring a child would be so good for you."
Geralt just hums in agreement, enjoying the closeness. It's rare someone allows him this without any kind of expectation or ulterior motive, only really Jaskier and more recently Ciri. He presses a kiss to his hair then tightens his arms and leans backwards until the two of them are lying on the bed on their sides, with Jaskier still curled against his chest. The last bit of tension leaves the bard’s frame and he relaxes into Geralt's arms.
"Where are the two of you headed after this?"
"Kaer Morhen for the winter, introduce Ciri to Vesemir and show her some of the basics. She’ll need some tutoring in magic if she has any of her mother's abilities, but that's going to have to wait for spring."
Jaskier nods, pulling away enough to tug his doublet off and toss it towards his pack before setting back in just his shirt, he's lost some weight since they’d last seen each other. Geralt tugs gently on the hem of his shirt and when the bard makes no move to stop him he slides a hand underneath to trace the scar just above his hip. "I'm glad you're safe, with all the fighting."
"I was heading to Cintra when I heard the news, so I joined those villager’s caravan aiming to stay ahead of the invasion." He shudders faintly, pressing his face into Geralt's chest.
"Come with us." The offer is out before he thinks it through; born half of a desire not to be parted from the bard and half a vague panic about a teenager being only raised by witchers. "You can collect stories off all off us, write some new ballads. The village isn't too far away for when you get sick of us, and Ciri would appreciate someone familiar."
Jaskier pulls away, leaning up on one elbow with a sigh. He searches Geralt's face for a moment and the witcher wonders what he sees there; but whatever it is he reaches over to rest a hand on Geralt's cheek, brushing a thumb over the corner of his mouth. Geralt’s heartbeat speeds up as Jaskier leans down to press their foreheads together.
"I'll consider it, and talk to Ciri tomorrow." They're close enough for Geralt to feel his breath on his lips, and the sudden pang of disappointment as Jaskier pulls away takes him by surprise. "Have you had any sleep recently, real sleep not meditation?"
It takes an embarrassingly long time for Geralt to marshal his thoughts enough to answer. "Enough."
"Your enough or normal people's enough?"
"I'm not a normal person."
"No then." He resettles against Geralt's chest with a yawn, "Sleep, we both wake easily enough that Ciri'll be fine if something happens, not that it’s likely here."
He's right, and the warmth of Jaskier's body and his steady heartbeat as he falls asleep a few moments later are comforting, so it doesn't take Geralt long to follow.