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It was cold. It was bitter cold and the wind cut through Jaskier like some kind of dull cutting implement, maybe a pitchfork. He knew full well that if the wind were cutting through him like a sharp knife he wouldn’t even feel it. Jaskier had used the allegory of cold as a sharp knife in one of his earlier songs and Geralt had taken more offense to that than any mischaracterization of a monster. They’d argued off and on for a solid month, and although Jaskier had never formally capitulated, once he’d experienced both a knife wound and real cold, he was forced to silently agree with Geralt. Anyway, knife wounds were warm.
Which, again, he was not. He curled up miserably in his sleeping roll, teeth chattering morosely, resigned to waiting until morning. A sorry lot was this, it’d make a jolly good song though. He analyzed his feelings. The pitchfork analogy might actually work. It had an odd, blunt feel to it that would be both humorous and very descriptive. But would it be too humorous? There wasn’t a lot that was particularly funny about this situation-
“Bard.” Geralt’s voice held an amused tinge, but it did cut through the wind like a knife.
Jaskier jumped, he’d thought Geralt was long ago asleep. He popped his head barely out of the nest he had attempted to make out of his bedding. “Yes, my wonderful travelling companion who just scared the everloving shit out of me?”
“Come here.”
“What?”
Geralt sighed in a longsuffering way and held open his sleeping roll in an inviting way. “Come here. I can hear your teeth chattering from here.”
Jaskier stared at him and then stood up, wrapped his blankets around himself, and pattered his way over to Geralt. He stood over Geralt uncertainly. After the “incident” that was the kiss of last week Geralt had been very carefully and respectfully giving him space. Which included barely touching the bard, let alone inviting him into his bed. Well, his portion of the hard ground that was most definitely not a bed, but was bound by the same rules of convention regarding intimacy. Jaskier understood that Geralt was trying to make sure he was really alright after the whole kidnapping thing, but it had been frustrating to go back to square one after he’d thought Geralt wanted what he did. Not to mention he had no idea whether Geralt wanted a relationship past friendship with him, or whether the kiss had been truly a one-time thing.
“Come on.” Geralt motioned for Jaskier to lay down beside him, and Jaskier hesitantly did so, not allowing himself to press up against the Witcher. Geralt made the Hmm sound Jaskier had come to associate with fond amusement. He carefully and meticulously arranged both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s blankets such that Jaskier had more than enough coverage and then easily scooped him into his arms.
Jaskier promptly stopped breathing. Geralt’s arms around him held him close, but he knew if he chose to move away he’d meet no resistance. He hesitantly closed what little gap there was left between them and pressed himself against the Witcher’s broad chest. Geralt’s chin came to rest on his head and he settled down, seemingly perfectly comfortable and ready to go back to sleep now that the problem of the freezing bard was solved.
“Are you comfortable, little Dandelion?” As Geralt spoke Jaskier could feel the gentle rumble of his voice from where he was tucked up against his chest. His tone was lightly teasing, but Jaskier caught a serious undertone to it. Are you alright. Do you want this. Would you like me to let go. Somehow he knew that it was very important that Geralt know that he felt safe and comfortable in his arms.
“Yes.” Jaskier’s voice was oddly high pitched, and he mentally cursed and cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes, yes I am very comfortable. This is SIGNIFICANTLY warmer.” It really was. Geralt’s body radiated heat, not quite like a furnace, but perhaps like it might be like to curl up next to a dragon.
“Good. Wouldn’t want my bard to freeze.”
Jaskier was quite certain his heart had stopped beating, and then started beating backwards. He felt oddly out of breath. For the love of everything holy, you’d think he was some blushing virgin, coaxed gently into the marriage bed. This hadn’t even turned sexual and the man was rendering him speechless.
Jaskier made himself relax, inch by inch, until he was floating peacefully in a half awake, very warm state.
He found himself murmuring in a sleep heavy voice, almost to himself. “What made you decide touching me was alright again Geralt?”
Geralt Hmmed again, and for a moment, that appeared to be all the answer Jaskier was going to get. Then Geralt said simply. “You were cold. Go to sleep now Bard.”
Obediently, Jaskier felt himself drifting off into a more relaxing slumber than he’d had in a while.
“Goodnight Geralt.”
Geralt sighed, “Goodnight Jaskier.”