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Geralt struggled to sleep, something Jaskier had worked out very early on into their friendship. The witcher was plagued by nightmares, from the monsters he’d faced and the friends he’d lost. It broke Jaskier’s heart to hear the soft whimpers from Geralt’s bedroll each evening, the way Geralt curled up against his pillow at the inn, the sobs muffled but still loud enough to wake Jaskier up.
At first, Jaskier hadn’t know what to do, a big scary invincible witcher with night terrors, hardly something they covered in his classes at Oxenfurt, but then he’d remembered his own childhood nightmares. His mother had come to his room, her fingers carding through his hair, gently brushing along his cheekbones, forehead, nose, eyelids, as she sang the sweetest lullabies. His favourite had always been the ones about the sea, mermaids falling in love with men and soft kisses under the stars.
So those were the ones that he sang for Geralt, tentatively singing to himself at first, tucked in his own bedroll, not wanting to get too close and frighten Geralt with the intensity of his feelings. By some miracle, it worked, Geralt falling back to sleep peacefully until the crack of dawn.
In the beginning, Jaskier kept his distance, but slowly he grew bolder until Geralt was snuggling in his lap as he sang, inhaling his scent, eyes closed, and one hand gripping Jaskier’s.
“Darling?” Jaskier asked softly after one particularly bad nightmare, and Geralt just hummed in response. “Can I try something new tonight?”
Geralt hummed again, this time nodding slightly in Jaskier’s lap, so with a deep breath, Jaskier let his fingers trail along Geralt’s jaw, keeping his touch feather light. When Geralt didn’t protest, he moved his fingers to gently trace the scar that ran along Geralt’s temple and started to sing his favourite lullaby.
The witcher’s breathing immediately settled into a low purr as Jaskier sang, and Jaskier smiled, his heart fluttering in his chest. He moved his fingers along the bridge of Geralt’s nose, barely resisting the urge to kiss his forehead.
He swallowed, stumbling over his words as he traced over Geralt’s eyelids, this dangerous monster slayer like a kitten beneath his hands. It was… incredible, and he was barely able to breathe, let alone sing, until finally the words fell silent, his fingers hovering over Geralt’s lips.
“Don’t stop,” Geralt murmured, one eye cracking open, golden and shining like the song.
Jaskier licked his lips as he dragged a fingertip slowly along Geralt’s bottom lip, unable to hear anything over the sound of his own heart beat. “Still good?” he whispered.
“Hmm,” came the response and Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Good,” Jaskier breathed.
He wouldn’t kiss Geralt that night, but he knew that it was inevitable. He’d wouldn’t be able to keep this feeling inside of him much longer, but that didn’t scare him like it had before. He knew his heart was safe with Geralt.