Chapter Text
1. Touching
After the Djinn incident, when Geralt had met Yennefer’s kiss and pushed her hands away, meeting Jaskier through the stained glass window. It was like something had changed. Jaskier found himself becoming more and more aware of Geralt. Not that he hadn’t been before, Jaskier noticed a lot of things about Geralt; how his eyes held weight and emotions, his different hums and grunts, the way his hands moved when fixing or cleaning his equipment. Jaskier liked looking at Geralt. Seeing how the beast could be so… not ‘human’, but something close.
As Jaskier walked around the fire, chatting about anything, everything, noise to fill the silence. He could feel, yet again, the weight of Geralt’s eyes. They lingered longer on him now, making his feet unsteady as he stumbled over the forest floor.
“-It wouldn’t be as-” He squeaks as an arm around his waist pulls him back. “Oh, Geralt! Sorry, sorry, just lost my footing.” Two weeks of yellow gazes, drifting to his neck, always to his neck even as the bruises faded.
This was a change though, the arm around his waist no longer moved quickly, didn’t leave like it should do.
“Are we going to eat soon? You said that we have to leave nice and early, and now you’re taking your sweet time with food.” Geralt grunted at his light spoken words and let go, moving back to work on their supper.
When Geralt first touched him, not a shove or a yank out of harm’s way, not a return of Jaskier’s poking. Jaskier had just smiled and continued on his way.
It was like a dam had been broken. Jaskier’s response had eased something and suddenly Geralt was there. Just there. A hand on his shoulder, his arm, elbow, pulling his attention, pointing at something with a hand on his. Then the lingering had started.
“Jaskier.” Geralt handed him a bowl, the food hot to the touch. Jaskier never had shied away from contact, he was always initiating touching, always free with it. Always patting the Wolf whenever he was close, a bump of shoulders, a washing of hair even.
“Oooh hare stew? Thank you again!” He grinned, patting Geralt’s leg and plopped down beside him. Humming with a happy feeling building in his chest. Now that Geralt was initiating the least he could do was accept each touch with open arms.
A hand tugged him up and pulled him close, “Come, sleep.” The same hands that helped him to bed, tucked their things away and brushed his hair away from his face.
2. Copying
Jaskier sat down in their little camp. He had broken the strings on his lute, cracked parts, dirt worming its way into the cracks and worn wood. He was looking forward to sitting down and pouring love into his child of song.
Geralt had sat down near him grumbling about Jaskier’s responsibility for his low supplies; the odd displeased word about his tendencies for getting into trouble peppered in. They would need to restock and buy. But for now, they could mend what they could.
Jaskier polished his lute first, rubbing it gently and cleaning the scruffs marks from their last adventure. At least he hadn’t used it as a weapon again and broken it to unrepairable stages.
He glanced over, Geralt had a dagger in his hand and was polishing the blade. When their eyes met, Jaskier smiled. Geralt’s gaze lingered and then dropped away.
It didn’t last long. Geralt’s eyes were on him again, the weight making Jaskier ducked his head with a smile. He set his cloth to the side and picked up his tool kit, while Geralt put down his dagger and picked up his torn jacket.
For a moment Jaskier watched him out the corner of his eye, trying to smother a growing smile. He wondered if Geralt even knew he was mimicking.
It took longer to fix the lute than cleaning it had. It wasn’t until he snagged on an awkwardly bent peg, that he looked up. Geralt was still mending his fixed jacket.
“I’ll be done soon, and then soup?” He asked with a grin, watching Geralt huff, hands stilling as their eyes met briefly. Jaskier rolled his eyes and turned his lute around. Geralt did the same with his jacket.
Jaskier pulled the last string tight and set it aside. “Well, one last thing! You’re all good?” He grinned at Geralt, who set his things aside and stood up with his bag.
“Bout time.” He grumbled as he nudged Jaskier’s leg with his own and sat beside the bard.
Jaskier laughed, “Always so grumpy.”
He stretched, thinking of the weird habits Geralt had started to display.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Oh nothing, just happy.”
Geralt hummed and patted his leg. “Soup?”
“Yes please!”
He brushed Jaskier’s cheek and stood up.
3. Gifts
Jaskier let out a high pitched scream.
“What in the devil is that!”
The only reply was a snort from Roach, who was tied in the corner of their camp. He glared at her and received her look. It seemed to be happening a lot, the look . Whatever that look was Jaskier still didn’t know, only that it was very, very , judging.
And Geralt had disappeared.
And there was a dead bird on his satchel.
A dead.. bird.
“Roach, I know we haven’t been on the best of terms, but please, I don’t think this is needed.”
Roach huffed and shook herself as if to say ‘Oh you stupid human.’
“I do hope this is a prank?” He spoke uneasy, “Roach, anything?”
Roach simply turned away, hooves patting the ground.
“No help then.”
Fiddling with his pockets, he pulled out a handkerchief. He stretched an arm out and picked the bird up with the cloth.
“Why, just why does the world torment me so.” He threw the bird into the nearest bush. And turned to Roach.
“I’ll tell Geralt on his return.”
He forgets to tell Geralt when he comes stomping back into camp, an odd look crossing his face.
Jaskier doesn’t think too much of it, until the next morning, when Geralt left to go to the stream and there’s a hare, neck broken, beside his lute…
“At least it’s partly… wrapped?” Whatever had put it there, had used Jaskier’s discarded handkerchief to set the hare down, keeping it from touching his belongings.
“I’m honestly too worried to ask,” He muttered, carefully picking it up with the cloth, “Can’t be a monster or Geralt would already be in overprotective Witcher mode.”
“Witcher mode?”
Jaskier yelped, throwing the cloth and hare into the nearby bushes before spinning on his heel towards Geralt.
“Stop doing that! You’re going to give me a heart attack!” Geralt’s eyes flickered to the bushes before looking at Jaskier with something odd.
“What?” Jaskier ran his hands down his front. “Is it the bed hair? I’ve only just got up.”
“You threw-” Geralt cut himself with the huff and turned back to Roach.
Jaskier watched him busy himself with their supplies, “Uh, do you happen to know what the… dead animals are all about.”
Geralt glanced at him.
“No? Yes? You really are the conservationist, aren’t you.”
Geralt picked up a bag and left their camp again, mumbling to himself.
“Wait- Hey!” He was gone.
Jaskier glanced back to the bush, then to the spot where Geralt had vanished from, could it be...? "Uh, well, that’s new.”
Jaskier couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
Roach huffed from her spot, “Oh, hush you.”
4. Jealousy
They had stopped at another tavern. The perfect opportunity for Jaskier to earn extra coin for the both of them! Oh well, three of them, Roach wouldn't appreciate being left out and Jaskier still wasn't sure if she liked him.
Besides, it was the least he could do having left Geralt to wipe monster guts off of himself.
In the Tavern it was a swirling of praise and attention. His breath shorter with each rising note, making him grin and sing louder, and not even faltering as his fingers began to numb and ache. It was everything Jaskier loved. Not just passing on songs and creating legends. At one point he had seen a shadow passing the back, his lips twitched into a bigger smile.
He strung his last note and stepped down from the table. Lute in hand, the crowd cheered at his finished song and he grinned until his cheeks hurt.
The crowd swarmed, cheering praises and shouting their questions. Jaskier caught a glimpse of Geralt between patrons, and waved to the lurking figure. A few people asked for more songs, muttering jokes at him and bumped shoulders together.
Time blurred for a moment as people shook Jaskier’s hand and patted his back. Until he found himself back to the bar, chatting to the barkeeper’s daughter.
She was beautiful, freckles and red and vibrant - someone Jaskier would have flirted back with not too long ago.
Now there was something uncomfortable in his gut and each smile she gave him made his creek and stiffen.
She was giggling about something, “Uh, you know, this has been lovely-”
“Lily.”
“-Lily, but I must be on my way!”
“Now, now, we have time, sweet thing.”
His chuckle broke off, “Well- Oh!” He saw Geralt’s shadow. “I think I should-”
She put a hand on his chest and lean closer, “Oh please, bard, surely you can stay longer?”
Her sweet voice was like honey and all he could do was lean away. Eyes flickering down to her plucked lips, “Anyway,” Jaskier tugged her wondering hand back up, blind to the falter in her smile, “I don’t want to keep-”
There was a crash. Jaskier jumped back.
“Oh.” Lily gasped with her eyes locked over his shoulder.
Jaskier turned to see Geralt and a broken plate by his feet, leaning casually on the bar side.
“Are you ok?” He asked upon meeting Geralt’s pace.
Geralt hummed, eyes never leaving Lily.
“Geralt.” He frowned, concern and annoyance at the tip of his tongue.
“C’monn” Geralt grunted, tearing his gaze back to Jaskier, “We’re leaving.”
“Whoa, wait-” A hand grabbed his and they were moving, “Geralt! I can still gain a few more coin today-!”
“We have enough.”
Jaskier huffed but allowed himself to be pulled out and into the night.
What on earth was he going to do with the big lump, and- he cast a look back, did he really break a plate?
5. Purring
Jaskier made them stop in what was basically a field. Green and flowering, with a large tree that they had stopped to sit under. For once Jaskier hardly had to beg for a break before Geralt was pulling Roach aside for a rest.
Leaning against the tree Jaskier could only start as Geralt simply sat down beside him and pulled fruit from their bags.
He had hesitated to break the peace that had fallen over them but his mouth couldn't stay shut when Geralt was close by.
Jaskier popped a stray grape into his mouth, “You know, you’re not as scary as you make yourself out to be. And I know you’re secret-” He stopped as a weight slumped beside him.
“Hey,” He lowered his voice, nudging Geralt, “Did you…”
Geralt shifted, head rolling onto Jaskier’s shoulder, “Oh, ok. Asleep.”
Jaskier shifted himself with a huff. Geralt wasn’t that heavy but Jaskier's heart thumped and thumped, making him nervous that if he moved even an inch he would wake the wolf. It wasn’t every day a big scary Witcher fell asleep on him.
He reached over without thinking, unable to resist the opportunity to run his fingers through his hair. He had done it before when washing his hair and... body. But this, watching Geralt sleep, his face soft, void of his usual frowning and breathing even slower than usual. This was a rare treat and Jaskier was selfish to resist.
He very carefully leant them back, resting against the tree so their warmth seeped into each other.
“You’re always making everything so difficult,” Jaskier muttered, resting his head against Geralt’s. His hand brushed the sleeping Witcher’s cheek, running fingers through his hair, pausing to rub at the soft patch under his ear, then again.
“I should make us stop more often.” He kept his voice low, letting his eyes slip close in the moment, “I would like that. More of this.”
After a moment, drifting in his thoughts, Jaskier heard a soft rumbling sound, felt the weight in his heart move along with it. He opened his eyes and looked to Geralt. Still asleep. He frowned. Very slowly he ran his hand through the white hair, and pressed his fingertips into the back of his head, just under his ear, again, slightly harder.
The sounds vibrated a bit louder.
Jaskier laughed. He smothered it when Geralt grunted, pressing his smile into his hair and continued to stroke the rhythmic pattern.
And they said he was a wolf! Jaskier was sure wolves didn’t purr.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the shell of Geralt’s ear and leant back. “Just for me.” He let himself relax and slip his eyes closed.
One day he’ll tell Geralt and watch the embarrassment spread. But for now, he was going to nap and bathe at this moment, just for him.
+1 Growls
Jaskier felt light-headed.
“Ger’alt.” He hurt, his mouth moved sluggishly, and he knew he had to do something.
But his hands were slippery, he couldn’t stand up, something was wrong - his legs? He couldn’t feel them, couldn’t be broken, his side- it hurt the most.
“Geralt.” He knew. He knew.
A shadow moved above him and hands were suddenly holding him, and all he could feel was relief. He knew these hands.
Jaskier could barely make out his own name, a plea as hands pulled him closer to something warm and real and solid. All he could do was sob.
There was a shout and the worlds shifted, shadows moved and dance. And then Jaskier heard it, felt it with his head tucked away, cheek to Geralt. The low angry vibrations.
Growling.
Growling so loud it seemed to silence the throb in his head. Or maybe he had broken something... The distance seemed so far away and yet, the growls seemed so angry. Jaskier tried to fight the haze, desperate to ease Geralt someway but he felt adrift. Hands that could slay so many, had killed so many, were holding him with such care.
Jaskier tried to smile through the sob that was building in his lungs, “I kne' yo'd find m'e.”
He was vaguely aware of the hands tightening before he fainted.
When Jaskier woke he was warm. His cheek tingled from where it was pressed against something, he rubbed his face closer and let out a soft sigh. Even as sleep clung to him he couldn't help but feel encompassed by safety.
“Jaskier.”
He grumbled, lifting a hand to rub his eyes and felt something slip from his shoulder.
“Ger’t?” A hand brushed his head and he nestled closer, “Wha’ hap’ened?”
“You got stabbed.” There was something laced in his voice and Jaskier finally lifted his head. He blinked for a moment and took a breath.
Geralt lifted a hand to stroke a spot under his eye. “Been asleep for a while.”
Jaskier tugged their blanket higher. “Inn?” Geralt nodded. “You slept?” The next was hesitant.
He huffed and dropped his head again, “M’fine. Go to sleep, Geralt.”
The hand stopped to rest on the back of his neck. Jaskier hid his smile against Geralt’s chest.
After a moment, the soft rumbles started up and Jaskier fell asleep with a big bad purring wolf curled around him.