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breathe into my hands; i'll cup them like a glass to drink from by inber
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)
24 Jun 2020
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Summary
Outside the moon hung like engorged fruit, dripping with summer light. Too bright. Geralt squeezed his eyes shut and hated the pupils that he had yet to govern correctly. He was eighteen – nineteen? Fuck, he couldn’t remember – but here he was, bedfellows with bad dreams and weaknesses.
“Nightmare?” Eskel’s voice was little more than a whisper, but Geralt flinched at the sound of it anyway. He hadn’t heard his best friend’s awakening. Thought he’d been quiet enough to prevent it.
“Sorry.” Geralt said, shame curling within him.
“Geralt.” Eskel sighed. “What have I told you? I don’t care what the masters say. I get the dreams, too.”
Or: Geralt has a nightmare, and Eskel provides comfort that turns into something more.