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“Gosh, it’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?”
Jaskier felt shivers running up and down his spine as he entered the inn’s room and closed the door behind him. He thought he’d be grateful that he would at last experience the warmth of a generously paid room in a hopefully small and cozy inn after sleeping outside in the cold for three nights in a row but no; it had to be cold, as if the damn universe was getting revenge on him for whatever reason. Actually, when he thought about it, if the universe was indeed taking revenge from someone, it would probably be Geralt. This man fucked with destiny every other day and Jaskier wouldn’t even be surprised, although Geralt himself wouldn’t admit it, claiming the oh-so-noble attitude of neutrality.
However, right now, Jaskier wasn’t eager at all to face either the universe or any wrong step Geralt had the luck of taking, since he could feel his limbs freezing the moment he stepped inside. Another reason he liked crowds; there was warmth among people. He glanced at the fireplace and then at Geralt sitting on a stool in front of it without turning at him, and huffed.
“Oh, you lighted a fire, how charming.” He saw Geralt looking at him with the corner of his eye without interrupting the cleaning of his sword of some greasy liquid stinking with the remains of some creature’s insides. He smirked, shook his head and unwillingly took off his doublet, shuddering. “Don’t look at me like that, Geralt, I can’t be the only one who feels it’s not the least bit warmer in here than it is while lying on the cold ground.”
Geralt sighed and stood up, putting his sword on the floor. “It will do.” He still had his doubts about that, although he didn’t elaborate further, watching Jaskier take off his trousers and slid under the blankets without wasting a second. He wouldn’t be the one to judge how cold it was anyway, he was a witcher. He stopped in his tracks for some moments, his eyes still fixed on the bard, as if his fussing under the blankets was the only thing worth his attention. The warmth suddenly burning in his chest and slowly lowering was enough to make him reject any chances of him getting cold anytime soon and he just managed to look away when Jaskier popped up on one elbow and raised his eyebrows at him questioningly.
“Will you not sleep?”
Oh, right. Geralt hummed as an answer and sat on the bed, feeling Jaskier raising the blankets for him behind him. His fingers twitched slightly and he glanced at the window in front of him, seeing half of his reflection and half of the dark, starry sky outside. It wouldn’t be the first time they shared a bed, they were easily past the hundredth and yet, a guest he had no intention of satisfying made its presence felt between his thighs.
Well, fuck.
A pair of cornflower-blue eyes were fixed on his back with a look that felt like a caress. He snorted silently, slipped under the blankets, careful to keep a reasonable distance between them and sighed as he glimpsed the bard smiling with the corner of his eye.
“Goodnight, Geralt.”
He rolled to his side, turning his back to Jaskier, and swallowed. “Goodnight.” An ordinary man wouldn’t have heard him, his voice lower than a whisper. But Jaskier was no ordinary man.
No, he wasn’t ordinary at all, not for Geralt, yet the warmth that still burned in Geralt’s chest completely changed its source when, after a minute or two, Jaskier rolled on his left side, and having his back turned to Geralt too would be completely fine for Geralt to sleep guiltlessly, thank you very much, if only Jaskier didn’t also pull the blankets so that Geralt was, in every sense, uncovered whole. He shivered slightly and couldn’t tell if it was the cold he couldn’t feel or the thought that Jaskier shouldn’t in no way turn to look at him exposed at the moment. He sighed and pulled the blankets back as gently as he could to cover his waist at least, trying not to turn around, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and settled his hand again under his pillow.
Yet the universe was probably still taking revenge on him, because after some moments the blankets slipped again from his waist and he bit his lip, feeling Jaskier behind him trying his best to hide whole under the covers for warmth. He extended his hand behind his back once more and tugged at the blankets with a little more force than the last time, only to realize that Jaskier had probably gripped them for good. He pulled again, only to release a part of them and make Jaskier groan sleepily, his face hidden in the pillow. Geralt closed his eyes and growled silently
“Jaskier.” No answer. For fuck’s sake, this man fell asleep as quickly as he fell in love. He turned his head in an attempt to glance at the bard and then stubbornly pulled the blankets again. “Jaskier.”
“W-What?” Jaskier’s head popped out of the blanket and he looked at Geralt with half-closed eyes.
Geralt didn’t realize when he’d let his voice soften. “Stop hogging the blankets.”
Jaskier’s lips curved faintly and he buried his head in the pillow again, loosening his grip on the covers. “Sorry… Just a bit cold.”
Geralt hummed but said nothing. He just slowly pulled the blankets over him and this time they didn’t move again and so he got rid of the one thing burdening his sleep. The second thing would hopefully understand right now was neither the place nor time to disturb him and retreat. And thankfully it did, as it had done all the other times, and they had been many. So now he could sleep.
Only that he didn’t. Because there had hardly passed ten minutes before he felt the bed shaking slightly and heard a silent chattering of teeth behind him. Just a bit cold. He swallowed and looked out the window, his fingers twitching again. It was for warmth. That’s what he told himself.
He rolled on his left side and put his hand over Jaskier’s waist, pulling him closer until he was curled up on his body, then let out a long sigh, nuzzling in the bard’s hair who gave no sign of being awake. And although he wasn’t cold at all, a different kind of warmth, of comfort overwhelmed him now, the same that made Jaskier stop shivering and let out a barely audible but pleased hum. Geralt let his lips twitch, only a little, no one could see him now. It was for warmth. That’s what he would tell Jaskier.
“Better like that, isn’t it?”
If Jaskier’s voice could leave him speechless while he was awake, now, soft and muffled, it almost left him breathless too. But he didn’t flinch nor did he move away. He just closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of lavender and wild-flowers he so loved, and smiled.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”