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You passed your fingers through my hair

Summary:

Lambert was much easier to wrangle than either Geralt or even Eskel had been. Even now he doubts he could get Eskel into this position, with his head on jaskiers thigh and fingers in his hair.

Work Text:

It was unmistakable, the oldest witcher was laughing at him, at all of the efforts he was putting into his witchers. It had taken no time at all to wrangle Lambert, almost too easy. It seemed like under all of that hissing and cursing he just wanted attention. The fact that Lambert was laying with his head pillowed on Jaskier’s thigh while he dozed was probably what had Vesemir smirking. 

    Jaskier threw a light glare to warn off anything that might wake sleeping witchers, but he wasn't sure how intimidated Vesemir was. The old witcher went back to his large bestiary all the same, so the point was made at least. He hadn’t yet been able to get the older witcher to let Jaskier take care of him, but he was never one to be deterred. 

    He set his hand back to scratching gently at Lambert’s scalp. Jaskier almost stopped when a soft purr slipped from the sleeping witcher, he shot a quick look over to Vesemir and found himself under intense scrutiny. Perhaps he thought Jaskier didn’t know about the purring? It had taken months upon months before he heard it from Geralt the first time but that was years ago. Instead of saying anything and risking Lambert waking up due to that famous witcher hearing he just raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘Yes, and?’ 

    Vesemir studied him for another minute before going back to his book. It seemed like he had won something when he saw the man’s shoulders relax more than he had ever seen. Did they think Geralt had just brought the first bard he’d come across back to the keep this winter, not his best friend of a decade and lover of two years. Did they all think he knew nothing of witchers? He had seen Geralt at his best and his very worst, and it was going to take a great deal more than some gentle purring to scare him off. 

    They sat like that until Geralt came to collect him for bed. Lambert gave a pitiful whine and tried to cling to his leg but Geralt was not to be deterred. 

    “You have been hogging my bard all afternoon, it’s my turn now. Go get your own if you want to cuddle so much. Jask, please come to bed.” Geralt gave him his best puppy eyes, which made Jaskiers heart melt. They both slept better together, had since long before they became a couple. 

    “It’s not really like I'm making a decision here. I couldn’t pry him off my legs if I tried. this is your battle to wage, my love.” He held out his arms to be picked up. 

Geralt gave one of his trademarked grunts and set about removing the octopus from his leg before spiriting him up the stairs. He had traded one purring witcher curled around him for another, for as soon as they reached Geralt’s room the man was rumbling and rubbing at him. He had explained once that it was to make them smell like each other and Jaskier had assured him that he in no way minded the process or the result -- not that he could smell it, but the thought of being claimed by Geralt in such a way always made him feel warm and happy. 

They settled into bed with Geralt all but on top of him radiating heat, which was the best way to sleep in the old stone keep. He fell asleep carding his fingers through Geralt’s long and lovely locks, enjoying the way his purring rumbled right through his chest.