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Jaskier is waiting. He is not patiently waiting per say, no, not anymore. He passed that state around the three hours mark. Now, he is just waiting, resigned and tired.
He was supposed to be travelling home today, right now to be precise, but his flight had been delayed. A big storm hit two days before, on Friday and the news kept showing warnings on the weather forecast. The airline hasn't posted any announcements though and his flight was estimated to have only a two-hour delay. After he had arrived at the airport and checked in, that delay turned into seven hours.
The airport was busy and the departure hall stifling. Passengers have filled the chairs at the waiting area, the cafes, the restaurants and have started sitting on the floor. Couples leaned on one another on the stairs so they could rest and families rearranged their bags so they could sleep on them.
Jaskier is really fucking tired. The last five hours have taken a toll on him. His back and ass are sore from sitting down and there's a migraine slowly but surely forming in his head. The disappointing but overpriced sandwich he bought around two hours ago sits at the bottom of his stomach like a rock. He just wants to go home .
He has spent the last half an hour going through his smartphone's photo gallery. He is browsing, looking at the pictures and screenshots he has saved over time. He finds that picture of Geralt he took one month ago, while he was sitting with his dog, Roach. He is looking down at her while she hits on his lap at the couch and he is caught in the middle of talking to her, almost smiling. Then, from three weeks ago, Yennefer on the balcony with a bloody mary in one hand, sunglasses on and raven hair cascading down her shoulders. She is smirking and you can't tell whether she is trying to take over the world or kill you. After that, a short video he had tried to take of Geralt cooking catches his attention. He is standing with his back towards the camera, Jaskier slowly approaching him. Geralt suddenly looks over his shoulder, catches him recording and abruptly takes a towel and throws it at Jaskier’s face. It blocks the view of the camera and the video ends with Jaskier’s laughter sounding faintly in the background.
“-Attention all passengers with flight number TLW019, due to bad weather conditions the flight has been cancelled. You are kindly requested to proceed to gate 51 for more information.”
He leans forward, resting his head on his knees and exhales, hard. He closes his eyes, just for a second and mutters a long and explicit curse word that would make Lambert proud. Then, he gets up, gathers his belongings and heads towards the gate.
After another hour spent in the queue and then the security check, he finds himself among a sea of passengers with cancelled flights. As he tries to cross the crowded corridor, he finally admits to himself that he doesn't know what the actual fuck he is gonna do now. The airline representatives don't respond to any of the people's questions and their app crashes every five minutes.
He manages to get to the other side, near the huge windows and sits on the stairs, gazing into the darkness outside. If he wants to get to a motel in the centre of the city, he has to get a train now . He could always try the hotel at the airport but it would be more expensive, surely, and…
Jaskier heaves a big sigh. He just wanted to go back.
For a moment his mind travels back to a pair of rough palms and stark white hair. Striking violet eyes and a wicked smile. He puts his face in his hands and his shoulders bow from the crushing weight of exhaustion, irritation and disappointment. Loneliness.
Keep it together Jaskier. He feels like if he loses it here, he will never be able to get up and leave.
He opens the contacts on his phone and calls Triss.
Triss, bless her heart, picks him up from the station as soon as her shift ends. She gets him to the parking lot and opens a portal to her apartment.
Jaskier is preparing to dive head first on the couch when Triss gives him a towel, a pair of clean pyjama pants and wait-
"Is this Geralt's old hoodie?"
"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy?" The small smirk he sees as she leaves is very telling.
The hot water does wonders for his tense body and at the end of the night he can hardly move his feet. He thanks her profoundly for the help, promises another song equal to her grace and beauty ("-it will be like nothing you have ever heard-") but declines when the sorceress offers him dinner. He is asleep the moment his head touches the pillow.
He dreams of celandine and lilac.