Chapter Text
There was always this quietness about Geralt. Not a silence, no. He makes his grunts and huffs, with a "fuck" thrown in the mix every once in a while. Oh, and he was a talker. He just needed a bit of a push.
Jaskier knew it all too well. Those nights when Geralt would come back covered in monster guts were when he was the most talkative. Jaskier would make Geralt's clothes mysteriously disappear, but not to stare at Geralt. It was an excuse to continue talking, real back and forth conversation. There was a certain intimacy about those nights. Soft voices, the gentle touch of a friend's hands across an aching back, the fingers of a bard running through wet white hair. Jaskier was humble these nights, though he would poke fun at Geralt when he could. It's how he was after all, but he was certainly different than Jaskier in front of a court. Geralt preferred this Jaskier, if anything.
One of these night, Jaskier threw some chamomile flowers into the water and poured a bucket of warm water over Geralt's head, more gentle than before. Geralt, of course, noticed the slight difference in this routine, but said nothing. Jaskier had been acting strange lately, and Geralt couldn't pin it down. He was quieter, and he would sometimes only strum his lute as they walked. Geralt grit his teeth, taking a moment before reaching up and grabbing Jaskier by the wrist, causing him to jump. Despite his size, Jaskier was brave, and he certainly wasn't afraid of Geralt.
"What's wrong with you, bard?" Geralt murmured. "You've been quiet lately."
"Ah, thought you would appreciate it, witcher," Jaskier sassed, though Geralt could see something was up. "Now let go, or you'll be left to bathe yourself."
Geralt thought for a moment, but he loosened his grip. His hand slipped away from Jaskier and sank into the water, figuring his friend would tell Geralt what was wrong in his own time. There was a strong tension in the room, contrasting sharply with the soothing chamomile scent.
"I...think I'm going to go to bed early..." Jaskier whispered, but he was stopped once again by Geralt's hand.
"No, stay. I'm sorry."
Geralt had never apologized so quickly, especially when he didn't know what the problem was. Jaskier hesitated, so Geralt pulled him down and put his arm over the bard's shoulder. Jaskier yelped in surprise before chuckling nervously.
"Geralt, stop, I'm soaked! What's your problem?"
Geralt's only response was pulling Jaskier in closer. Jaskier fell quiet, realizing that Geralt knew something was wrong. He eventually returned the embrace, kneeling beside the tub to do so. Geralt could feel Jaskier take a deep, shaky breath as the bard turned his head to bury his face in Geralt's shoulder.
"Here, let me get out and we can, um...continue this..." Geralt spoke, clearing his throat.
Jaskier laughed softly and pulled away, leaving Geralt to his business. He set the towel next to the tub and walked out to his room. He changed into a dry shirt, just as flowy and comfortable as the last, and waited on his bed for the Witcher. It didn't take long for Geralt to come in, silent and looming. The Witcher sat beside Jaskier and put an arm over his shoulder with a deep sigh. Jaskier leaned back into the embrace, his hands wringing themselves nervously. Geralt rubbed the bard's back and sighed again. He was very good at sighing.
"Do you want to speak about what is troubling you, bard?" Geralt murmured, turning his head and pressing his nose into Jaskier's brown locks.
Jaskier tensed slightly, his shoulders shaking. Geralt pulled away slightly and used one hand to grab Jaskier's chin and make him face the Witcher.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"No," Jaskier said firmly, though there were tears in his eyes. Geralt had never seen Jaskier like that before. "I just...I can't talk about it with you. You've done nothing wrong, Geralt. It's just me."
Jaskier's eyes were cast to the ground, and Geralt felt a pang of guilt in his heart. He had been so awful to Jaskier before, what had he done to earn his trust and friendship? Geralt's grip on Jaskier's chin lessened, and his hand slipped up to cup Jaskier's cheek. He sighed deeply as Jaskier's face contorted further from a pain in the bard's heart. Jaskier's hand reached up and the slim fingers of the bard wrapped around his wrist.
"Geralt, let me go," Jaskier whispered, his voice breaking.
"No," Geralt said firmly, his other hand coming up to hold Jaskier's face. "You're hurting, and that hurts me."
"Shut up," Jaskier snapped, pulling his head from Geralt's hands. "You never cared. You're a Witcher, you said yourself that you don't feel things, Geralt!"
"I care about you!" Geralt retorted, a crack in his voice causing the bard to look up suddenly. "More than...more than I should! And I've been a terrible friend to you, Jaskier. I don't know how or if I can make it up to you, but I want you to at least know I'm sorry."
Jaskier looked down once again, tears immediately flowing down his face. He covered his face and sank into Geralt's chest, his hands soon finding their way to the Witcher's back and holding on tight. Geralt held the bard, on hand resting on Jaskier's neck and the other on his back. Jaskier shook as he held onto his friend, and the Witcher felt something in him shift suddenly, and he jolted. It didn't disturb Jaskier, who was a little busy with his own internal torment, but Geralt was lost in the feeling. He had felt it once before, and wished to never feel it again. He pushed the thought away, but it pushed back. He let out one of his classic grunts, causing Jaskier to lift his head from Geralt's chest.
"What is it?" Jaskier murmured.
"Jaskier, I..." Geralt thought for a moment before he pulled away slightly, and Jaskier say up with a look of concern and confusion. "Can I kiss you?"
Jaskier immediately flushed red, and he pulled away. He looked conflicted, and it only took him a moment to decide. Jaskier grabbed his lute and began to leave, but Geralt called to him.
"Jaskier, I'm sorry, I-"
"No, Geralt, don't apologise, I just...I need to drink. Mull things over. I'll come back to you."
With that, Jaskier closed the door behind him and went off, leaving Geralt on the bed alone. Geralt's shoulders sank, and he laid back on the bed with a deep sigh. He rubbed his face and cursed to himself.
"Fuck!" he snapped, his teeth bared. "How could I have been so stupid?"
Geralt laid there for what seemed like a couple hours before he got up and put on a shirt, heading downstairs to find Jaskier. He made his way to the street and asked a passerby for directions to the nearest tavern. As Geralt approached, he felt a soft smile glance his face as he heard Jaskier playing Fishmonger's Daughter and get the entire tavern in on it. He pushed his hair back and walked in, smiling as he watched Jaskier performing on top of a table. He walked over and waited for Jaskier to finish, and it was getting to the end when Jaskier tripped and fell backwards right into Geralt's arms.
"Ah, Geralt! Have you come to kiss me?" Jaskier laughed, clearly drunk. "I want to kiss you, Geralt! You're just an idiot who doesn't know how to charm a man!"
"Right, that's why you walked out."
"It's because you just asked me when I was crying, you bumbling barbarian."
"I'm surprised you could say that so easily," Geralt laughed, setting Jaskier on his feet. "Let's get you back to the inn."
"No! I want to stay here," he hummed, looking up at Geralt. "But! I will go home for one kiss!"
"Jaskier, you're drunk. Let's just go back."
"Please, Geralt, I really do want to kiss you," Jaskier murmured, pushing Geralt's hair back behind the Witcher's hair. "I've been wanting to for years..."
Geralt hesitated, but he could see it in Jaskier's eyes. Geralt leaned down and pressed his lips to the bard's, and the bard returned it eagerly. Geralt pulled away and Jaskier looked up at him with this new look in his eyes. Geralt cupped his face in his hands, smiling lovingly down at his friend.
"Let's get to bed. You need to sleep this off."
Jaskier leaned into Geralt, and the Witcher scooped up the small bard and carried him away, leaving a little pouch of silver for Jaskier's tab. They made their way back to the inn, and the innkeeper laughed softly at the sight of Jaskier over Geralt's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Cut him off?" she chuckled.
"Yeah, he needs the rest. We're setting out early tomorrow."
Geralt took Jaskier into their room and laid him down on the bed.
"You are just... absolutely gorgeous," Jaskier murmured, reaching up to push back Geralt's hair. "One more kiss?"
Geralt laughed softly before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Jaskier's lips once again before pressing another to the bard's forehead.
"Rest, Jaskier," whispered the Witcher, finding himself a spot beside the bard.
He laid on his back and looked up at the ceiling. It didn't take long for Jaskier to scoot over and put a hand over the Witcher's chest. Geralt smiled softly and put an arm around the bard. He listened to Jaskier's soft breaths, glad that he was finally sleeping off the alcohol. He brushed Jaskier's hair back and sighed softly before he closed his eyes and, for the first time in years, fell asleep without a problem.