Work Text:
Jaskier is lingering in front the room's door before he knows it.
Habit, it is a cunning thing. For habit it is. What else, he thinks, lying to himself, what else could lead him up the stairs now, when Geralt barely spared him a look as he entered the inn and walked past him to the room. What else, for he doesn't know if he can bear it anymore, admitting the love.
It is always lacking anyway.
Only, the habit. The way Geralt's eyes, in their momentary glance, were full blown black and his face pale and his hands, no matter how he tried to hide them, were trembling. Jaskier knew better. He knew it was too loud, staying around people, and he knew the shoulders Geralt brushed with a patron almost had him breaking down.
He knew all that because once he used to hold him while the potions faded out, and sometimes he can still feel Geralt's body flinching in his arms, and what a painful comfort, what a loving pain that was.
Now he is touching the door knob and thinks it is the closest he has gotten to touching Geralt the past weeks, after everything.
He closes his eyes, breathes shakily. He can almost hear Geralt's strained breathing on the other side of the door. And his heart clenches, wails, what about it, it won't be like then again, not in the way you want, but oh well, he was never one to walk away, damn his loyalty. He was never one to hide the love.
Slowly, silently, he opens the door.
He knows the sight. Has seen it a thousand times before. Geralt hunched at the side of the bed, shoulders tense so as not to betray their shaking, back turned so as not to betray the pain. Only he never managed to hide from Jaskier.
And now Jaskier doesn't know if he wants to remind him that. Still. He enters the room, and closes the door behind him.
One. Two steps. Ever silent, ever careful.
A whisper. "Geralt?" And oh, what an ache it leaves on his tongue, calling his name in silence, what a sweet compromise. Still, no answer. He stands beside him, raises his hand just right over his shoulder, and lets it hover. Burning almost. "Can I get you anything?" Slowly. A brush of fingers, just to reassure.
"No," Geralt flinches at once and he steps back like a scared animal. Hand still raised with no place to rest.
He knows. The gruff tone, the strained voice. The abrupt tone. It's the potions. Only now Geralt's voice is just a little more sharp, as though he is afraid of letting out too much of himself. Only now it hurts just a little more deeply, and just a little too personal.
He watches as Geralt's fists curl on his lap and, defeated, he nods with a small smile. "If you want anything, you can..."
Call me, he would say. Ask me anything. Ask me to stay by your side forever, and I will. I will do it even if you don't ask. He would say. But he stays silent. For better or for worse, even now, Geralt already knows, and it's still not enough.
Thus he turns around.
"Jaskier."
Nothing. A breath of a voice, as though it doesn't want to be heard. Or just wants to be heard by Jaskier alone, because Jaskier always hears. Heart digging its way out, he looks at Geralt again and, oh, Geralt looks back. And it's nothing like he thought.
It's exactly as he knows, and selfishly pretends to have forgotten. Geralt looks at him still slumped, eyes still half black and sunken in their sockets and drowning in what feels like regret. Like a plea.
Sometimes Jaskier thinks maybe it's also his fault, just a little. Maybe he doesn't reach out enough, or has to reach out too much, because the deeper the wound, the stronger the cure must be.
A plea indeed. Geralt suddenly looks like the shell of who he is, shaking and wanting, exhausted, and in the shadow of his gaze Jaskier discerns the same need, no, want, that tortures his empty hands, his gaping embrace. And what a fool he is, he who was never hesitant in love, holding back from the one who needs it the most.
He holds his breath, smile ever present, and gentle. "Perhaps if..." Clears his throat. "Do you want me to--"
Hold you. Do you want me to hold you. He doesn't need to say, because Geralt almost sobs with longing, and something breaks in his face, and leaves him crumpled and bare. "Please." Then, as though remembering, he lowers his look. Shakes his head. "If you want." Begging, desperate. "Just for a bit."
Gods. Gods, and poets and lovers and damned verses, they matter not as his heart weeps inside his chest and Jaskier lets out the breath he was holding, a huff, relieved and almost incredulous. Of course he wants. Lacking, he only ever wants.
Slowly, silently, almost shaking, he sits on the bed and leans back on the pillows, and bares the screaming hole of his arms with hope at last to complete it.
And oh, how gently Geralt fits in his hug, how perfectly. Just like he always did. Hesitant, at first, until he buries his face in his chest and Jaskier feels trembling hands crawling behind his back, limbs tangled in a desperate attempt to be hidden, tucked away in familiar warmth, and safe.
And suddenly all that remains unspoken doesn't matter anymore. Suddenly nothing matters, only this, here, Jaskier wrapping his arms tight around Geralt's body, tighter still so that he never loses him again, only this, the beat of their hearts filling the silence between them as one slows at last, and the other beats faster, and Jaskier hides his face in white hair, and lets the burning flood in his eyes flow down.
"I miss you." A whisper. Only that, and Geralt hides deeper, as though to disappear in the most welcoming absence.
Jaskier feels his shirt suddenly damp, and closes his eyes, breath shaky. "Oh, Geralt." And unspoken everything will remain, for no words can fill the void better than this, holding him at last. He presses a kiss on his hair, ever so soft, and rests his cheek there, voice quivering. "Oh, darling. I'm so sorry."
Geralt doesn't speak. Only, he clings on him tighter, and cries silently.
Maybe it's nobody's fault, after all. It's only like this. Geralt, despite all, will never be alone, and Jaskier, despite all, will stay. As he does now.
He stays until Geralt's heartbeat is slow and faint, and his eyes have closed.