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Three weeks ago now, Geralt apologized and things are... okay. They've mostly fallen back into their old routine, but something is just a little off. Jaskier tries not to notice it, but there are times when it's unmistakable that they haven't quite fit back together the way they used to. When they sit around the fire at night, Geralt doesn't seem quite as calm as usual, doesn't sit as close as he used to and Jaskier doesn't know who or what is to blame for the rift.
He wants to tell Geralt that everything is fine and cuddle up next to him when it's cold during the night, but what if Geralt is distancing himself on purpose? Maybe he's not quite ready to go back to what they had, maybe he doesn't want to. He's become something of an unwilling father since the last time Jaskier saw him, so maybe it will just take some time for things to settle. Either way, Jaskier doesn't want to do anything to make matters worse.
Which is how he winds up with a much worse problem. It's not his fault, either. Geralt has been tasked with killing a cockatrice that's getting too close to the roads and killing travellers, Jaskier is there for the adventure, the exhilaration and... to look after Ciri. The inn won't house a Witcher, so there isn't anywhere particularly far from the cockatrice’s lair that they can get, and Jaskier is there to make sure she doesn't come to harm. Which, to be fair, he does quite well. It's himself that he has to worry about.
Geralt's gone ahead into the cave to try and catch the cockatrice unaware and judging by the sound coming from within, he hasn't done anything but upset it. There's a moment of silence in which Ciri looks up at Jaskier with wide, worried eyes and Jaskier pulls her against his side. He won't let anything hurt her and that means making sure Geralt is okay because Jaskier is not fit to care for a child and he doesn't want Ciri to lose another family.
"Wait with Roach," he says and for a second she looks horrified so Jaskier kneels down in front of her. "I promise everything will be fine, I just think Geralt needs some help. If anything goes wrong, trust Roach, she'll take you to safety. You know how to get her to kneel?"
Ciri nods and Jaskier smiles at her. She's a good kid, she doesn't deserve any of the shit she's been through. Jaskier gives her a quick hug and sends her off toward their camp as he approaches the cave. It's a terrible idea because the only defence he has is a little silver dagger that Geralt gifted him a few years back. It won't do much as far as bleeding damage, but he hopes the silver will be enough to deter it.
He can hear Geralt's grunts and groans echoing from the cavern and he steels himself. This isn't for him, this is for Ciri and her continued happiness - or whatever Geralt can offer her if he lives long enough. As luck would have it - if he can even call it luck - Geralt rolls out of the cave before Jaskier can enter. There's a brief moment when he freezes and stares at Jaskier confused, irritated, worried? And then the cockatrice shoots out of the cave after him.
Geralt shoves him out of the way and Jaskier tumbles to the ground. He scrambles to his knees and gets out of the way as quickly as he can, but something hits him from behind. He draws his dagger, expecting the cockatrice to be right on top of him, but it isn't. It's a few metres back, heading in his direction and Geralt leaps at it before it can take another step. Jaskier watches, frozen and dumbfounded as Geralt plunges his sword into its side.
Jaskier has seen him fight more times than he can count, most times he’s immortalized in song, but this is different. He doesn't know how to explain it, but he feels like Geralt is protecting him which, technically, he always is. But this time it seems like Geralt's anger comes directly from the attempt to attack Jaskier.
As the thing collapses under him, Geralt pulls his blade back, wincing as blood spatters back at him. He double-checks to ensure the thing is dead and walks up to its neck, slicing his sword clean through to remove the head. Later, he'll take it back to town to claim his fee, but for now, he leaves it on the ground and makes his way over to Jaskier, kneeling down before him.
"Where's Ciri?" he asks and Jaskier's heart sinks, but he reminds himself that Ciri is more important.
"I sent her back to camp. Told her to take Roach if anything happened."
"Why?"
"I thought- I was worried about you." Geralt stiffens and looks away. Helpful, Jaskier thinks.
"Are you okay?" he asks and Jaskier looks up at him. There's an odd tingling feeling in his lower back, but he probably just pinched something when he fell. Or maybe he got something stuck under his shirt where it's come untucked.
"I'm fine," he says.
He can't tell him he got hit by something because Geralt will insist on looking him over and making sure and Jaskier doesn't want to be any more of a burden than he already had been. He still hears Geralt's words in his head at night: why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days it's you, shovelling it? For months, those words were the only memory he had of Geralt and he doesn't want to wind up back in that place with him again.
Geralt takes him at face value and he holds a hand out to Jaskier to help him up. He pulls him up and looks him over briefly before starting away toward their camp. Jaskier follows.
Geralt gets a fire started and leaves with Roach to collect his coin and find them something for dinner. Jaskier keeps Ciri entertained with tales of his travels with Geralt - significantly edited to be age-appropriate - and a selection of her favourite songs. He makes her fruit juice and shares the few remaining snacks he has in his pack. By the time Geralt returns, Jaskier is quite ready for bed.
When he stands up to help with the tent, his head is foggy and he feels woozy, but it's been a while since he ate or drank anything of substance, so he doesn't think much of it. The tent goes up easily, but Jaskier leaves the rest to Geralt, sitting down to rest. When everything is ready, he crawls into the tent, curling up on his side and tugging his blanket up over his shoulder. Geralt gives him a worried look, but Jaskier waves him off with a sleepy smile. He'll feel better in the morning.
He does not, in fact, feel better in the morning but last night Ciri had a nightmare and none of them slept well, so he keeps his discomfort to himself. Geralt isn't great at the whole dad thing, so Jaskier leaves them alone in the tent and decides to make himself useful by getting breakfast ready.
It doesn't take him long, but by the time he's finished, his head is foggy again so he sits next to Roach and feeds her apples while he waits. She nudges him with her nose but Jaskier is too tired to do much other than stroke her lightly and hum a tune. He shuts his eyes and focuses on everything he's feeling, most of which is perfectly normal. It's just his head that feels wrong.
The three of them head out after breakfast and Geralt suspects something is off, even if he doesn't say anything. He keeps a closer eye on Jaskier than usual but Jaskier just continually assures him he's fine. It's not even really a lie because it's probably just lack of sleep that's messing with his head. A good nights' sleep is all he needs and he'll be perfectly back to normal.
But before they even stop for the night, things take a turn for the worse. Jaskier tells himself he's pushing his body too hard on so little sleep and that's why it's hard to breathe, but he's not so sure anymore. There's only so much he can blame on a bad night's sleep. It's late afternoon when he starts to feel nauseous, but Geralt is leading them off the path, Jaskier assumes to camp for the night, so he'll be able to sleep soon.
Geralt is having none of that. As soon as Jaskier is horizontal, Geralt is crouching over him, feeling his head and pushing his hair back off his face. Jaskier opens his mouth to tell him he's fine, but the words don't come out and the lines in Geralt's face deepen.
"What are you doing?" Jaskier mumbles.
"I asked you three times to help Ciri," he says and Jaskier doesn't even remember hearing him speak. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, I'm fine. What do you need me to do?"
"Sleep," Geralt says, "you need to rest." Jaskier doesn't intend to sleep, not now because Geralt needs his help, but he shuts his eyes for just a second. The next time he wakes, they're preparing to leave again.
And he does feel better or, at least, he thinks he does. He goes about the morning as usual, though the haze in his head makes it difficult to focus and he knows Geralt is watching him closely.
They head out early that morning with Ciri and Geralt up front and Jaskier trailing behind. It's a conscious choice, to follow at a short distance, but he couldn't keep up this morning if he wanted to. Soon enough, he'll probably have to make for town and leave Geralt to whatever he's up to.
They've barely made it past the edge of the forest when Jaskier's head starts to throb. He stumbles and his knees hit the ground which is alright really, because he feels better like this, even if his palms sting and his knees shake under him. Geralt is at his side instantly, sliding an arm around his back and asking him something he can't quite understand. He sounds very far away and like he's underwater.
"I'm fine," Jaskier says but even he doesn't believe it this time. Geralt helps him to his feet, but he's unsteady and it takes much more effort than it should to keep himself upright.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Jaskier mumbles, but his vision is starting to blur and his head is heavy.
"Fuck."
Geralt heaves him up onto Roach and climbs up in front of him. He apologizes as Roach gives a snort of protest, but Jaskier is only half aware of what's happening. "Can you hold on to me?" Geralt asks, frantic, and Jaskier doesn't know, but he slumps against Geralt's back and snakes his arms around his waist.
He doesn't know where they're headed, but Geralt is certainly in a hurry to get there.
By the time they arrive, Jaskier is unconscious and Geralt has never been this frightened in as long as he can remember. He dismounts gracelessly, hauling Jaskier down after him.
"I'll be back," he says to Ciri, "Roach will take care of you." She nods obediently, but Geralt can see the fear in her eyes and he wishes he was in a better place to comfort her. His heart races, thuds heavily against his chest and he can barely hear over the rush of blood in his ears.
The house is unassuming on the outside, but as soon as he steps foot in it, he can smell her. Lilac and gooseberries. Yennefer is the last person he wants to see right now, and likely he's the last person she wants to see ever again. But he doesn't have a choice.
She greets him silently and Geralt thinks that he would have preferred hostility. She listens as Geralt tells her everything he knows - very little - and then whisks Jaskier away to some back room, out of sight. Geralt tries to follow, desperately unhappy about having Jaskier out of his sight, but she stops him.
"Wait for him here, I'll tell you when I'm done." Geralt can't blame her for not wanting to see him, but sitting and waiting and not knowing is worse than anything Yen could say to him.
He takes a seat in the sitting room, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and he waits. After fifteen minutes, he goes to check on Ciri and takes her to the inn, paying for a meal and for the innkeeper to look after her for a little while. She's mostly self-sufficient, but he doesn't want to take any unnecessary risks. When he's sure she'll be okay for a little while, he returns to the house.
Yen hasn't returned and Geralt is left alone with his thoughts, all of which are dark and worrisome. What if he didn't get to her on time? Jaskier was already in bad shape when they left and he doesn't know how long it's been going on for. He doesn't know how long Jaskier has - or if it's already too late. His stomach turns uncomfortably and Geralt squeezes his eyes shut. He should have known something was wrong, he should have done something sooner.
But he's been so preoccupied with Ciri. And he and Jaskier haven't quite found a comfortable rhythm since their reunion so he's been more distant than before. And he hates himself for it because if he'd been just a little more attentive, he might have noticed something was wrong earlier. If Jaskier doesn't make it, he'll never forgive himself.
When Yen returns, she's alone and Geralt's stomach somersaults, immediately assuming the worst. Yen looks at him and sits down in an armchair across from him, delicately folding her legs.
"You're lucky you got to me when you did," she says, "another couple of hours and he might have been beyond saving." A wave of relief washes over him, immediately followed by a feeling of guilt, like a punch to the stomach. He was so close.
"What's wrong?"
"Cockatrice venom," she says, "can be fatal in large enough doses."
"Cockatrice-" Geralt echoes, "that was days ago."
Yennefer shrugs. "Slow acting."
"He said he was fine."
"Clearly," she says slowly, unimpressed, "he lied. Take it up with him when he wakes. You can take him and leave."
"Yen-"
"I'm not interested. When I need something, you'll hear from me."
History has taught him not to argue with a sorceress when she's made a decision and Geralt nods, rising to his feet silently. He makes his way back to the room, finding Jaskier laid out on the bed. It's reminiscent of the incident with the djinn and brings back memories and emotions he'd rather not remember.
Geralt leans over him, shutting his eyes for a moment to listen to the sound of Jaskier breathing softly. It encourages him and he slips his arms under him, careful to disturb him as little as possible, and lifts him into his arms. He feels like nothing in his arms, and yet Geralt's whole body shudders at the touch. He's wanted to hold Jaskier, to bring him close and keep him there, but this is all wrong.
Yen is still sitting silent when he returns and Geralt thanks her again as he leaves the house. He doesn't know what he's going to do. He knows he can't take Jaskier to the inn; the last thing he needs is people thinking he's killed someone, but he needs to get him somewhere safe and he needs to collect Ciri, regardless. Cautiously, he makes his way toward the inn, reluctantly going inside with Jaskier in his arms.
A half dozen heads turn when he walks in, but Ciri sees him and hurries over to his side.
"Is he okay?" she asks.
"He needs rest," is all Geralt says, but she nods and follows as Geralt leads her to the stables.
Ciri takes control of talking to the stable boy and if Geralt wasn't so caught up in worry, he'd be proud of her. The boy hands the reins over to her, and Ciri takes them happily, stroking Roach's nose. Geralt makes a clicking sound with his tongue and nods his head to Roach and she kneels, making it easier for Ciri to climb onto her back.
"Good girl," Ciri says, pulling the reins back over her head. She's good with Roach and Roach is shockingly patient with her, but Geralt keeps a close eye on them as they make their way out of town.
He carries Jaskier all the way out of town and they don't stop until Geralt finds an overhang in a cliff face. It will shelter them on two sides and that's going to have to be good enough because it's getting dark and he needs to find something more than bread for Ciri to eat for dinner.
Ciri pulls their bedrolls out and lays one out on the ground for Jaskier. Geralt lays him down, finding a blanket to fold and tuck under his head and he thanks Ciri for her help. Jaskier looks small and weak lying there silently and Geralt has to tear his gaze away because he knows if he doesn't, he won't be able to leave. So he pulls himself away and crouches down next to where Ciri is piling sticks for a fire.
"Will you be okay alone for a little while?" he asks.
"Yes. I'll watch him."
"I won't be long." He says and he isn't. He brings down a deer close to their campsite and returns within half an hour, sitting at the edge of the site to skin and prepare the animal.
He cooks the meat over the fire and feeds Ciri, but doesn't eat anything himself. He's emotionally exhausted and the guilt he feels for not noticing Jaskier’s pain overwhelms him.
After Ciri goes to sleep, Geralt sits next to Jaskier, watching the way the firelight highlights his features. He's beautiful in an eerie sort of way and Geralt reaches out, brushing his fingers along the ridge of his cheekbones. Jaskier is warm and it's the first thing that's given Geralt any comfort since he collapsed that morning. He runs his fingers through Jaskier's hair and sighs regretfully.
"I'm sorry," he breathes, "I should have noticed earlier." He sighs deeply and rolls his head back, staring up toward the sky. There’s more he wants to say, but something stops him. The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue but even with Jaskier unconscious and unable to respond, he can't quite get them out.
"Please," he whispers, "don't leave me."
It's late when Geralt hears a rustle from the other side of the fire and his head snaps up, alert. Ciri sneaks over, sitting next to him.
"Is he okay?" she asks.
"I don't know."
"I hope so."
"Me too," Geralt hums, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
He's still got one hand in Jaskier's hair and he doesn't pull away, even as Ciri curls into his side. The warmth of her small body is comforting and it reminds him that no matter what happens with Jaskier, he has to pull himself together for Ciri.
When he wakes up, Ciri is in his lap and he's hunched over her, both arms curled around her. Geralt blinks awake slowly and as he shifts, Ciri stirs against him. She gets up and Geralt follows after her, stretching as he looks down at Jaskier, still motionless and silent and it hurts knowing he can't stay with him right now. They can't leave either, though, so he gets up and finds something for Ciri to eat.
While she finishes her breakfast and goes off to feed Roach, Geralt returns to Jaskier. Carefully, he sits down next to him and lifts Jaskier's head into his lap. He brushes the hair off his forehead and Jaskier squirms. His eyes pinch tightly shut and Geralt's heart leaps into his throat. He presses his hands down Jaskier's chest, keeping him down and when Jaskier opens his eyes, it's like a weight has lifted off Geralt’s shoulders.
Jaskier sits up, rubbing his eyes and turns to face him, looking blearily at him. He looks so soft and helpless and Geralt can't help himself when he pulls him into his lap. He draws him in closer, wrapping one arm around his waist and sliding the other up his back to slip into his hair.
"Geralt," Jaskier says, muffled in his shoulder, "I'm fine, what are you-" when he pulls back, he stops. Jaskier is barely an inch from his face and Geralt kisses him without regard for common sense or consequence. It's brief and stiff and not what he really wants and when he pulls back, Jaskier's eyes are wide and full of concern.
"I'm dying aren't I?"
Geralt is stunned, the taste of Jaskier's lips still on his and he drops back, propping himself up in one arm. "No," he says, "no you're okay. I thought I'd lost you." His final words come out so quietly he doesn't think Jaskier will hear him at first. But Jaskier takes his face in his hands and smiles softly.
"I'm fine," he says and he sounds utterly breathless, reminding Geralt with a start that he's just woken up and he's been through a lot.
"Shit," he says, scrambling to let Jaskier up and get himself to his feet. He helps Jaskier up and he doesn't have a chance to say anything else, to apologize or to let Jaskier know how worried he was, because Ciri hurries over.
She wraps her arms around him and Jaskier smiles down, slipping an arm around her shoulders. Geralt's lips tug up at the corner and he turns away to let them have a moment.
Jaskier's feeling better now and Geralt has managed to convince him that he's not dying. He's a little quiet, but Geralt is sure it's nothing to worry about, he did just recover from being poisoned, after all. And he's done everything he can for him, making sure he's warm enough and has enough to eat.
He wants to get them back to town. He wants to get to an inn and get Jaskier somewhere warm and comfortable where they can stay for a couple of days to recoup.
Ciri is the first to be ready as usual, and Geralt lifts her up onto Roach, handing her the reins as he finishes packing. When he turns around to fasten Roach's saddlebags, Jaskier is pulling his lute case over his shoulder. Geralt frowns, crossing over to him and slipping the strap out of his hands.
"Get on Roach," he says and Jaskier just looks at him. Geralt reaches out, pressing a hand to Jaskier's shoulder. "You must be exhausted," he says, "I can walk." For a moment, everything is still and Jaskier just looks at him. Geralt grunts and turns away before he can do something stupid and behind him, he hears Jaskier hoist himself up into the saddle.
Geralt doesn't mind walking and from here he can keep an eye on both Jaskier and Ciri. They’ll be safe and if anything comes up on the road, he can handle it while Roach gets them to safety.
They make town by mid-afternoon and after taking Roach to the stables, Geralt pays for a room and sends Ciri ahead of him.
"Wait for me by the stairs," he says and she nods. When Geralt turns, Jaskier is watching him. "Go to the bathhouse," he says, "relax."
Jaskier tries to argue, but Geralt presses a handful of coins into his palm and sends him off. When Jaskier is out of sight, Geralt takes Ciri up to their room. He's ordered food to be brought up to Ciri and he waits for the innkeeper before ducking out of the room. He knows Ciri will be okay on her own for a little while, but he locks the room anyway and promises not to be long.
He slips away, out of the inn and down the street to the bathhouse. Jaskier is in the bath already when he finds him, up to his neck in hot water and scented oils. The room is steamy and Geralt shuts the door behind him, inhaling the damp, scented air.
Jaskier blinks up at him as if he was sleeping, offering a worried look. "Where's Ciri?" he asks.
"In our room. She's fine." Geralt rolls his sleeves, pushing them up past his elbows and circling the tub. Jaskier watches him move, tipping his head back against the edge of the tub.
"What are you doing?" he asks, but Geralt is quiet. He hmms at him, but doesn't say anything. He reaches down, tentatively brushing his fingers along Jaskier's shoulder. It's a question, a chance for him to say no and push him away. He doesn't.
Instead, Jaskier rolls his shoulders into the touch, hums softly. Geralt wants to make him comfortable and he wants him to feel good, but he doesn't want to push any boundaries, especially with their relationship the way it is. But once he gets his hands on him, it's harder to stop than he thought it would be.
He can feel Jaskier's pulse under his hands, steady and confirming. He's okay. He can feel the life in him with every press of his hands and he slides his hands down over his chest, feeling Jaskier's heartbeat against his palms. He almost lost this. He wasn't paying enough attention and Jaskier got hurt and he almost lost him. His hands falter and Jaskier notices.
"Are you alright?" he asks, looking up at him with wide eyes, dark in the low light.
"I should be asking you that."
"I'm fine Geralt. If something's wrong-"
"Nothing's wrong," Geralt insists, but his hands shake against Jaskier's skin and when he moves to pull back, Jaskier twines their fingers together. He runs his thumb along the arch of Geralt's fingers, pressing his hands into his skin.
"You can tell me, Geralt," he says softly, "whatever it is." He closes his fingers around him and Geralt squeezes tightly.
"I thought I was going to lose you," he grits out, "why didn't you tell me something was wrong?" Jaskier's fingers pull away and Geralt worries that he was too rough.
"I didn't want to be a burden," Jaskier mumbles, "you already have so much with Ciri and your destiny-"
"You're never a burden," Geralt says too quickly. He pulls his hands back and moves back around to the front of the tub, crouching down in front of it. "You're all I have."
He looks up at him, soft and pink from the heat of the bath and he can't imagine saying such horrible things to him, but he did and he knows it hurt Jaskier more than he shows. He's the one constant in his life, the one good thing that destiny so far has not meddled with.
Geralt leans in without realizing and Jaskier meets him halfway. Geralt slides his hand over Jaskier's jaw, pressing forward and kissing him softly. He doesn't realize he's tense until Jaskier's mouth moves against his own and an intense calm floods his body, loosening his limbs and pushing him forward.
Geralt draws back after only a second, eager to see Jaskier's face, to see for himself that he wants this and it's not just impulse that has him kissing back. A single glance tells him that's not the case. If anything, Jaskier looks more unsure than Geralt feels, but he shows no hesitance. And when Geralt presses into his space once more, Jaskier is the one to initiate the kiss.
His lips are soft, unimaginably so, and maybe Geralt should have expected that, what with the care Jaskier takes in all other parts of his life. It still comes as a surprise, though not one Geralt has much time to consider. Jaskier makes a soft sound against him and Geralt moves instinctively, sliding a hand back into his hair and kissing him more deeply. Jaskier hums again, a soft little contented sound and he curls both hands around the back of Geralt's neck, sitting back a little in the tub.
Geralt moves with him, adjusting to make Jaskier more comfortable. The edge of the tub digs into his stomach, but it's barely an inconvenience with Jaskier's mouth against his own, hot and eager, and his hands slipping up into the hair at the back of his neck.
Jaskier moves a little quicker, his fingers grip a little tighter, pull a little harder and Geralt loses himself in it. He shouldn't let himself lose focus so easily, but this is Jaskier and he's alive and Geralt has wanted for so long. He's moving before he realizes it, letting Jaskier tug him closer. He gets his elbow hooked around Geralt's neck and Geralt rises up, bending over the tub. Then he's got his knee up on the edge and making the next move is such a natural transition that he doesn't consider what he's doing.
As he steps into the tub, Jaskier pins his legs to the sides, letting Geralt settle between them. Geralt is soaked up to his stomach, but Jaskier's fingers wander, sliding around to his chest and distracting him. And when his legs wind around his hips, Geralt groans softly against Jaskier's lips, slipping one hand under his thigh.
"I can't lose you again," he breathes and Jaskier hums against him, reaching up to run his fingers over Geralt's cheek.
"You won't."
They stay like that, pressed against each other in the tub, until the water has long lost its heat and Jaskier's skin is cool to the touch. Unwillingly, Geralt wrenches himself from Jaskier's embrace and climbs out of the tub. He leans down, pulling Jaskier out after him and if he tugs him close again and lets his fingers run over all that soft, wet skin well, no one would blame him.
Jaskier's head is still swimming as they make their way back to the inn, only a sliver of air between them. Geralt's knuckles brush against his own with each swing of his arm and Jaskier grins softly, looking down at the ground beneath his feet. His lips tingle, swollen from being kissed and bitten and it's the only thing that speaks to the reality of what happened. He might believe it was a dream otherwise; he's had many dreams to the same effect, both waking and sleeping, some of which seemed almost more real than this. But Geralt leaves a trail of bathwater behind him as they walk and his lips are a lovely shade of red that Jaskier swells with pride to know he's the one responsible for it.
When they reach the inn, Ciri gives them a strange look. Fair, considering he was the one sent to have a bath and Geralt is the one coming back soaked - and in his clothes, no less. Jaskier hides a smirk but focuses his attention on Ciri. If he tries to think about too much at once, he might explode, so he focuses on the task at hand which is, right now, keeping Ciri occupied while Geralt changes into dry clothes and arranges for supper for them.
The rest of the night passes far too quickly and they don't talk a lot, but Jaskier knows Ciri suspects something. She keeps side-eyeing Geralt when he's not paying attention and it's all Jaskier can do not to laugh when Geralt notices. They'll have to tell her at some point, he suspects, though that would entail discussing exactly what they're telling her. And that's one of those things Jaskier can't think about right now.
He knows Geralt worries about him, enough to take him to Yennefer according to Ciri, and he knows he wants him around. He couldn't possibly ask for more than that, but then he'd kissed him. And gods, Jaskier has been kissed a thousand times and a thousand more and he's never been kissed like that. Like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, like he might not get another chance.
He shuts his eyes thinking about it and smiles softly to himself. So there's something, something that must have been a huge step for Geralt who still hasn't quite committed to the word friend.
Geralt meets them downstairs, dry except for the ends of his hair, and they sit and eat together before heading upstairs. He's quieter than usual and Jaskier tries not to worry too much about that. He reminds himself that things like this are harder for Geralt than they are for him and that also, apparently, Geralt is still processing the fact that he almost lost him. That much, at least, Jaskier can understand, he'd be lost without Geralt.
So he gives him space. They'll have a few minutes alone to talk soon enough, he can keep from plastering himself to Geralt's side for one night, difficult as it may be. He makes up a bed on the floor as they've been doing for months now; taking turns sleeping on the floor and in the bed with Ciri unless they have a second room. Personally, Jaskier prefers the floor to a separate room to begin with so he doesn't mind much.
Geralt is already in bed and Jaskier tries to be as quiet as he can to not wake Ciri, setting his pack at the end of the bed and laying down on his bedroll. There's a rustle of blankets from above him and when he shifts to look up, Geralt is sitting up, frowning down at him.
"What are you doing?" he asks and Jaskier looks down at his bed, trying to figure out what he's done wrong.
"Going to sleep?" he asks.
"Come up here," Geralt offers, shifting a little to one side. He waits until Jaskier sets down his bedroll, then lies back against the bed.
Jaskier pulls himself up, climbing up the foot of the bed and Geralt reaches out, sliding an arm around his side and pulling him down. He shifts as Ciri stretches under his other arm, and Jaskier lets himself be pulled in, turning to rest his hand on Geralt's chest. He slips on hand up his chest and he could swear he sees Geralt's lips twitch just as he shuts his eyes. There's a soft huff of breath against his hair and when warm lips press against his head Jaskier squirms despite himself.
Maybe things aren't as complicated as he thought they were. Maybe his place is right at Geralt's side where he's always been.