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"Stay by the fire, Jaskier. You'll be safe by the fire, Jaskier. If you're worried, here is a blow gun and some potion infused darts, this one does this and this one does that but definitely don't touch THIS one, Jaskier. Blah, blah, blah."
Truth be told Jaskier had gotten distracted trying to think of a 'blow gun' joke but that hardly mattered. It was a bag of witcher potions. They were all varying degrees of dangerous but he didn't actually expect to need any of them so it was fine.
Still, it had been several hours and Jaskier had flung himself from distracted to frightened and right back around every time a leaf fell or twig snapped.
He was exhausted, frankly.
He wanted to go to sleep and indeed Geralt had told him he could, but Jaskier promised to keep watch over the fire and he was a man of his word.
Sunrise was only a few hours away. And he was sure Geralt would be back soon.
Probably.
How long could it take to hunt down and kill a monster?
The fire popped and Jaskier swore, reaching for the dagger on his belt. Never mind that it was meant more for cutting food (and the delicate laces of a corset or breeches) a weapon was a weapon.
When nothing else happened he returned to his watch, determined to stay awake until Geralt returned.
He was just so... bored. Surely it wouldn't hurt to get his bedroll ready.
And having somewhere more comfortable to wait, it only made sense to use it.
The night began to move oddly after that in starts and lurches as he fought and eventually lost the battle against sleep.
It took a thundrous crash to wake Jaskier from swirling dreams of a golden gaze and sharp white teeth and he quickly scrambled to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand as he dug through Geralt's bag with the other.
"Watch out," he shouted into the darkness, the feathered ends of the darts brushing against his uncharacteristically clumsy fingers. One of the darts found its way into the blow gun and Jaskier pointed it in the direction of the noise that had awoken him. "Don't make me angry," he warned the forest before him. "I don't even know what this one does."
The low noises of insects and night wandering animals were absent and the silence felt heavy. Jaskier shook his head, tried to brush away the dregs of sleep.
"Hey," he called out. "Show yourself. I'm not afraid."
Low laughter greeted him and Jaskier felt a rush of relief as Geralt emerged from the trees. Bloodied and bedraggled he was still one of the finest things Jaskier thought he had ever seen.
"Geralt? That was you sneaking up on me?"
"Hardly sneaking," the witcher replied. "I thought you might be afraid, but," he nodded towards the blow gun, still held to Jaskier's face. "I see I had no cause for concern."
Jaskier lowered the weapon, idly noticing the dart slide from its housing to tumble uselessly to the blankets at his feet. "Ah," Jaskier laughed. "Yes, of course. I was not worried at all, I sat vigilant waiting for your return."
Geralt only hummed in return before bending to lift the abandoned dart to his eyes.
"Which one is it," Jaskier asked. "Is it dangerous?"
"They're all dangerous," Geralt grumbled. "That's the point."
"Was that a pun, Geralt," Jaskier crowed.
"Hardly. Give me that before you hurt yourself." He took the blow gun from Jaskier's hands with no resistance before tucking it and the dart back into his pack.
"So what did that one do," Jaskier asked. "I know you told me but I wasn't paying attention. What if I scratched myself? Would I fall into a sleep only to be awoken by true love's kiss?"
Geralt looked back to his bag. "No."
Jaskier allowed himself a pout. "Tell me. Is it... oh, it's something disgusting? It would make me vomit, I'd bet. Ugh, I hate to vomit, it's so undignified."
Now that Geralt had joined him by the fire the light seemed to spread further, surrounding them in a gentle halo that made it very easy to see that Geralt was rolling his eyes.
"Oh, what. What? Now you have to tell me."
"You're right," Geralt said, laying his weapons out on a piece of leather. "That's exactly it."
"And now you're lying to me? I can't believe it. Tell me what the dart does." Jaskier could hear a tone in his voice that perhaps reminded him a bit too much of his own beloved mother, but he would not be put off.
Geralt only sighed and went to his pack, pulling the dart from its case. He held it up in the light and examined the point before pressing it lightly to the very tip of his tongue.
"Hm."
Jaskier waited but Geralt only put the dart back and returned to cleaning his swords.
"Well?"
"No," Geralt said. "It's nothing. Make you throw up is all. Then maybe melt off all of your skin."
Jaskier huffed. "First puns and now jokes. Fine, keep your secrets. I'm going to sleep."
Jaskier nestled back into his bedroll. The blanket had held onto some of his warmth and he knew rest wouldn't be too far away.
"You're welcome, you know," Jaskier muttered. "Stood watch all night for you."
The soft even strokes of a honing stone over steel sent him to sleep but not before Jaskier heard a murmured, "Thank you."