Chapter Text
-------------------- 1 ----------------
"C'mon, give me a review. Three words or less."
Geralt stares. He's just been minding his own business, fully prepared to have a drink or two alone before he continues his journey. Who would drink with a witcher, after all?
The man in front of him stares back, eyebrows raised and clearly waiting for an answer. Like his opinion on the bard's stupid song somehow had any value.
"They don't exist." He says finally, taking another sip of his near empty mug.
The man's eyebrows climb even higher. "What don't exist?"
"The creatures. In your song." Geralt clarifies curtly, wishing the man would leave now that he got his answer. He's never been a social person.
"How would you know?" The man insists. Geralt doesn't even bother to dignify that question with a response. The man's face lights up like he's just had a stunning revelation.
"Oh, I know! White hair, big, old loner, two very, very scary looking swords… I know who you are." He lists. It's Geralt's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You're Geralt of Rivia!"
Geralt stays quiet and the man takes it as the confirmation it is. Geralt expects the man to turn away in disgust, to leave after he's realized that he's been talking to a witcher the whole time... though how the bard didn't see it in the first place is beyond him. Geralt, or witchers in general, aren't exactly hard to recognize. One look into his eyes and anyone with half a brain could see what he really is.
Instead the bard extends a hand. "My name's Jaskier! And well, I already know yours, so no need to...uhh.. introduce yourself." He trails off awkwardly. Geralt keeps staring at the outstretched hand, not making a move to shake it and eventually the bard drops his arm, scratching his neck awkwardly.
"Right...uh.. Ale?" The man- Jaskier asks, taking a seat opposite of Geralt. Uninvited and blissfully unaware of the glare he's currently receiving. Or maybe he just doesn't care, which Geralt finds odd. A witcher's glare usually sends any man running.
"Refills on me." The bard clarifies, nodding at Geralt's now empty mug before shouting his order at the innkeep. Soon there are two full mugs of ale in front of them and Jaskier is chattering away like this is a usual occurrence. Like he often just sits down and buys a drink for a witcher, a monster.
'Well…' Geralt thinks as he slowly takes a sip, deliberately ignoring the bard's endless chatter. 'Who am I to say no to a free drink ?'
----------------------- 2 ----------------------
A month later and the bard is still tagging along. No matter how much Geralt tries to push him away he always comes back, often with a new song that he insistently tries to get Geralt's opinion on. He never does, of course, but he tries time and time again.
" Stay. Here. " Geralt snaps at the infuriating man. Jaskier truly is an idiot if he thinks he can survive facing a werewolf.
Jaskier sputters. "I'm not leaving you!" He exclaims dramatically and Geralt rolls his eyes.
"You'd die if you came with me." He states bluntly. Jaskier opens his mouth to protest, but Geralt cuts him off. He already knows what the bard is going to say. "No, you can't be sure that I will be able to protect you. Neither can I. Just stay at the inn, Jaskier." His tone leaves no room for argument and he turns to leave again.
Jaskier huffs but pulls out his lute and heads towards the inn. "You'd better come back in one piece!" He yells after Geralt's retreating back. Geralt ignores him.
The fight is long and exhausting. The werewolf manages to catch Geralt off guard and add a new scar to his growing collection before Geralt manages to cut its head off. He's tired, hungry, aching and miserable when he gets back to the village. He reports his kill to the young boy who posted the notice and the boy hands him some money. It's clearly not enough.
"This is barely half of what I was promised." Geralt states in a low tone. The boy looks around nervously, eyes finally landing on something behind Geralt that seems to give him a burst of confidence.
"It's the exact amount we agreed on, ser." He says loudly, still glancing behind Geralt. The witcher turns around, only to see what appears to be half the village’s guards standing only a short distance away. Just his luck. “Ye won’t be taking a copper more from me.” The boy continues, even louder. Some of the guards turn to stare at them, glaring at Geralt darkly.
Geralt swears under his breath, mentally running through his options. He could use axii on the boy to make him keep his promise, but the guards would no doubt attack him the very second he did. He could just take the money by force, which would also lead to a fight. He could try to reason with the guards but nobody would believe him, a greedy money-hungry witcher over a poor young boy. He’d get branded a liar and the guards would still fight him. There’s nothing he can do without angering the guards, most likely making the whole village his enemy in the process and the boy knows it.
So he turns back to glare at the boy, feeling some satisfaction as he gulps and takes a step back. “It’s a fucking shame I can’t unkill a monster. Some people would be better off getting mauled.” Geralt snarls at the young boy, who takes another step back, all of his confidence gone. The guards take a step closer, hands on the hilt of their swords as a quiet warning.
Geralt has no intentions of making himself an enemy of the entire village, no matter how much he might want to kill the young boy just to shut his lying tongue up for good. So he just turns on his heel and makes his way to find Jaskier, the money pouch on his hip much lighter than it should be.
He finds Jaskier at the inn. He's playing a merry tune that does little else but make Geralt even more annoyed than he currently is. Jaskier doesn't seem to even notice him. That's fine. He wasn't really looking for company. He just wants some peace and quiet, a bed and some rest. Maybe a bath if he's lucky. Gods only know he would get none of those if Jaskier decided to come and talk to him.
"How much for a room with a bath?" He asks gruffly. The barkeep barely looks up from the mug he's cleaning.
"50 crowns." He replies. Geralt digs through his pouch and swears. 'Well. There goes that luck.'
"And a room without a bath?"
"40 crowns." It's still not low enough. Geralt needs to save some money for resupplying his potions, needs to have some money aside so he can get his gear fixed quickly if needed.
"Never mind, then." He grumbles, turning from the counter ready to spend another night under the sky, keeping watch for beasts and monsters, hunting for food and maybe bathing in some small, freezing river. If he can find one.
Jaskier, however, appears to have other plans as he chooses just that exact moment to appear before him.
"Geralt!" The bard yells before he slaps Geralt's shoulder so lightly the witcher can barely even feel it. "I see you took my advice to come back in one piece, if not a bit worse for wear! I must say, I'm pleased about that and- where are you going?" Jaskier trails off as Geralt keeps walking, heading for the door.
"Outside." He answers. Jaskier runs after him.
"For what? Haven't you done enough today? Time for rest, no? Or a bath. Frankly, you smell awful. No offense! ...Well actually, why not both? Not at the same time of course, but-" Jaskier keeps going on and on as usual. Geralt turns to glare at him.
"I don't have enough coin. Gotta sleep outside." He grumbles. Jaskier opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before he bursts into laughter. Geralt grits his teeth.
" Jask- " His growl is interrupted by the bard's overly cheerful tone.
"Oh, no you don't!" Jaskier says, wrapping an arm around Geralt's shoulders to guide him towards the stairs leading to the rooms. Geralt lets him. The man couldn't move him an inch if he resisted.
"I took the liberty of paying for your room. See, I thought you'd like a room after that whole monster-slaying business is done. You always get so grumpy after a hard fight and -oh come on, don't look like that, you do get grumpy. See, you're grumpy right now! Well, no need for that anymore." Jaskier pauses for long enough to dramatically pull something out of his pocket. A room key. He presents it to Geralt with a mock-bow. "Your room, master witcher, bath included and all expenses paid for."
Geralt stares, astonished. He stares at Jaskier, turns his gaze to the key in his hand, then back at Jaskier again. After a long moment he speaks. "You… you paid for a room? My room?"
Jaskier grins. "Yes, indeed I did. Now take the damn key, please, my arm is getting numb."
So Geralt does, standing there with the key in his hand like an idiot until Jaskier pushes him towards the stairs gently.
"Well, go on! I didn't buy you a room only for you to stand here all night." Jaskier says as he picks up his lute again, strumming a few chords. "Have a good bath! And please actually sleep for once, you can't just keep meditating forever, you know… But the night is young and my audience demands entertainment. Funny how much more freely people give coins when they’ve got a long day behind them and some ale in their system! I’ll see you in the morning, Geralt.” He rambles, throwing Geralt one last smile before he starts singing and disappears into the crowd.
‘ Maybe…’ Geralt thinks later as he lies in bed, freshly bathed and toeing the line between wakefulness and sleep. ‘ Just maybe it isn’t too bad to have someone to travel with.’