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The best thing about not having a lot of coin was, in Jaskier’s humble opinion, getting to share a bed. The first time was awkward, a fumbling of limbs pressed into a too small space, but they were both adults and Jaskier had needed to press up against Geralt’s body in the harsh cold of night when they were camping. So sharing a bed had just been the most logical thing to do. One room, one bed, less coin, but now Jaskier’s songs were starting to circulate more and more. Not for the first time he’d walked into a tavern to find a bard already singing his songs.
People knew him, and that building level of fame paid well. The tavern owners were excited to see him, less excited to see Geralt but Jaskier made it quite clear that if Geralt couldn’t stay then he would rather sleep in pig shit . So Geralt stayed, and they shared a bed, because it was cheaper.
Only because it was cheaper.
Because even if Geralt was getting more coin on his contracts these days, he still needed the money to maintain his armour, stock up on potion supplies, and make sure darling Roach was fed and watered. If their purses were filling out then it just meant Geralt could afford to be fussy with his contracts, sticking to the witchers’ code which Jaskier was starting to suspect was very much a Geralt code.
And Jaskier enjoyed the warmth of Geralt’s body pressed against his. Sometimes he would curl up on Geralt’s chest, snuggling into him and listening to his heartbeat, other times, Geralt would come back from a hunt and flop down on Jaskier’s chest like he himself was the mattress. Jaskier liked those days the best. He could comb his fingers through Geralt’s hair and pretend that the whole setup was something more than it was.
It was truly Jaskier’s favourite part of the day.
Which is why he was stuck in the doorway, both hands on his hips, gaping at the room they’d been allocated for the night.
“What is this?!” he whined, pouting at the two single beds pressed against each side of the room.
From behind him, Geralt snorted. “A room.”
“We asked for a single room, they’d better not have charged extra for this. Bloody idiots!”
“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed.
“Honestly, I have half a mind to go back down there and get our coin back. This is a complete disaster! If you can’t afford new ingredients at the market then it will be this bastard’s fault if you die. No! No, no, no. I’ll go sort out this mess immediately, I will be right back!”
“Jaskier!”
His jaw snapped shut as Geralt pushed past him into the room. Pouting at the witcher, he tracked his movements across the room. Geralt grunted as he pulled one of the bed frames into the centre of the room, and Jaskier furrowed his brow as the witcher then did the same with the other bed.
“Geralt?” He cocked his head as he tried to work out what the fuck the witcher was up to until Geralt stepped back to reveal a makeshift double bed. “Oh.”
“Get in.”
“Right, right, yes… Good. I mean, the brigand still probably swindled us, I should-”
“Jaskier!” Geralt growled, scooping him up in his arms.
Jaskier squeaked as he was dumped onto the mattress, clothes and all, but he couldn’t help his smile. He really really loved sharing a bed with his witcher.