Work Text:
~o~ Witcher ~o~
Jaskier squinted in thought as he watched Geralt wipe at his sweating brow for the third time that hour. It wasn’t even that warm yet and he was the one riding the damn horse, not like he was straining himself. Jaskier tucked it away with the observation from this morning of Geralt with flushed cheeks, as if he had a fever after packing up their camp. It hadn’t been anymore strenuous than usual, but Jaskier had seen the pink points blushing his cheeks in a rather dashing way if he was honest, but that was beside the point.
The point was, was his Witcher coming down with something?
Surely not, he was a mutant, they didn’t get sick, right? Maybe he had an infected wound again. He’d seen Geralt almost laid out with a nasty gash he didn’t take care of a few months ago. Admittedly, it would have killed any normal man, but Geralt had been out of it for days while he tended to it and made sure the poultices the healer recommended were applied to the stinking wound. It had frankly been disgusting and had turned his stomach many times during Geralt’s convalescence.
Jaskier shook his head at his tumbling thoughts. No, it was ridiculous. The mighty White Wolf was not coming down with a common cold. Jaskier had his flights of fancy, but this was just plain silly. He continued to strum at his lute, going back to finding just the right note for the tricky verse he was currently putting together.
A couple of hours later when they finally stopped for lunch, Jaskier was starting to think his initial thoughts that Geralt was coming down with a sickness weren’t as outlandish as he first thought. As he watched Geralt make his way around the little spot he found to rest and led Roach to drink at the small creek he had found, Jaskier could see his slower than normal movements, the hesitation before he did anything remotely strenuous and the heavy swallows as if his throat was paining him.
His curiosity eventually got the better of his, admittedly minimal, common sense, and he uttered what had been on his mind for the entire morning, “I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am.”
Geralt gave him a stern glare that would usually have him backing off, but the sweat gleaming across Geralt’s face and the tiny grimace that flickered across his face as he swallowed heavily again, had Jaskier him launching into dangerous territory without a second thought.
“So the whole Witcher’s didn’t get sick rhetoric is like how Witcher’s don’t feel emotion bullshit that you perpetuate to stop people caring about you?”
Jaskier did take a step back when Geralt’s face contorted into a mask of fury for a second before resettling into annoyance that Jaskier was more familiar with.
“Geralt, I'm not saying this to mock you,” he tried to soothe the ruffled feathers of his friend as he stepped cautiously toward him. His hands held up in a non-threatening manner.
“I’m genuinely worried about you. You have been showing signs that you aren’t well all morning and I’m just concerned that you are going to keel over at some point soon and leave me and Roach to fend for ourselves against all the beasties that might be lurking out there,” Jaskier finished with a vague wave to the forest that surrounded them. He figured trying to make light of the situation and pretending it was his own skin he was the most worried about would get Geralt to believe him. Sadly he knew that Jaskier worrying about his welfare would have Geralt believing him sooner than that Jaskier genuinely gave a shit about the welfare of his friend. The world had a lot to answer for the damage it had done to his Witcher. That he would believe his friend was more worried about him being unprotected in a safe stretch of woods, than that they were worried about him and wanted to help him.
Geralt muttered under his breath, but let Jaskier come closer without further fussy and even let him hold a hand to his heated cheek with only a mildly terrifying glare before he shook it off.
“You have a fever, your throat is clearly paining you and I’m pretty sure your muscles are all aching,” Jaskier told him as he moved in and nudged him towards the shady trees to the side of the clearing Geralt had found for them.
Geralt’s muscles tensed under his hand for an instant and then dropped in compliance as Jaskier was able to guide him over to the softer grass under the trees near where Roach was happily grazing away. Roach barely spared either of them a glance when he made his friend sit and lean against the tree she was standing next to.
“Rest. I’ll get a fire going and make you a nice cup of tea. That would be nice wouldn’t it?” Jaskier encouraged him as he patted his Witcher’s shoulder and ignored the glare he was still getting as Geralt watched him move around the area collecting enough wood to start a little fire for them.
Geralt might be a grumpy bastard, but Jaskier was his friend and if he could help Geralt to feel better he would. That’s what friends do, they look out for each other and take care of each other. Geralt might not believe that they were friends, but Jaskier knew they were and he would just have to show Geralt what that meant with his actions rather than words. Even his stupid stubborn Witcher would get a clue in the end…surely.
~o~ Witcher ~o~