#anyway yeah we love to see a lil bit of progess :)

[wordsablaze]

9~ i’ve been in denial

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: this was meant to be angsty but it’s festive season n all so here’s the most fluff we can get rn <3

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @blueboobutterfly @havenoffandoms @lasaga666​

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“Hey, Jaskier?” Eskel asks as they reach their room.

Jaskier hums, perching on the edge of the bed and all but peeling his boots off, making a face at the way his feet free themselves with a soft squelching noise.

“Why haven’t you changed clothes yet?” Eskel continues, not exactly sure what he’d been expecting but definitely not having expected the way Jaskier freezes, his pulse spiking.

It’s almost alarming how quickly Jaskier manages to turn his panic into a grin. “I’ve been reliably informed that this blue really brings out my eyes and I don’t see any reason not to flaunt that. Certainly helps with bargaining for another drink, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Eskel replies slowly.

Jaskier laughs brightly, too brightly. “Well, yes, I suppose witchers don’t often have to rely on their sense of fashion for coin, what with the whole monster-hunting business and-”

“Jas.”

“-the twin swords you all seem to carry. I mean really, they’re very intimidating to most people and while they may be useful, they’re not exactly in style. At least you’ve got a splash of colour rather than-”

“Jaskier.”

“-just black, not that there’s anything wrong with black but it does often give the impression you’re dressed for a funeral and that’s a pretty morbid picture to paint for yourself! Unless it’s Valdo Marx’s funeral, which would truly be a momentous occasion if you ask-”

“Jaskier!”

The bard flinches.

Eskel exhales softly, trying his best to cause any kind of panic. “I’m not mad, I’m just… I’m just worried. You almost drowned in those clothes and you’re gonna make yourself ill if you don’t wear something clean and dry.”

A small smile blooms on Jaskier’s face but he shakes his head anyway. “I- uhm, I… I don’t have anything else… with me.”

It’s not that Eskel hadn’t already guessed that, at least deep down, but it hurts to hear the confession anyway. “Then you should borrow something of mine,” he says before he can change his mind about his decision.

Jaskier’s eyes widen as he looks towards Eskel like he’s just offered up the moon itself. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m sure,” Eskel confirms before gesturing to where his bags are in the corner of the room. “You can just, uh, choose something you like. I’m afraid I don’t have bright colours but I do own more than funeral clothes.”

This time Jaskier’s laugh is genuine and he wastes no time in making his way over to the bags, carefully shuffling things around inside one before pulling out a black shirt that has long since faded into a soft, dark blue. The breeches he finds are just a shade darker but they match enough for him to look good when Eskel turns around again. Really good. In fact, he looks so good that Eskel suddenly understands what that woman from his last contract had been talking about when she’d said seeing her wife in her clothes was a truly magical experience.

“That bad?” Jaskier asks, half-laughing but clearly not very amused if the sour scent of worry is anything to go by.

Eskel shakes his head, forgetting how to use words for a second. “No, no. Not bad at all, it’s just… I didn’t think my clothes could ever look so good.”

And he’s not even lying. He is surprised that his ordinary clothes can seem so fashionable even if that’s probably a result of Jaskier generally being Jaskier and he’s even more surprised to realise that, even though they’re clearly big for him, they don’t just comically hang off him - Geralt certainly hadn’t mentioned that his- that the bard is built so well.

The red that floods Jaskier’s face most definitely does not match his new outfit but Eskel thinks it looks stunning all the same. Not that he says that aloud, no, he’s taken to biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything else stupid and scare off his favourite bard.

“I think I’m going to use the stars as an excuse to sleep again. Could you-” he bites his lip for a moment, “-uhm, that is, could you try and be back here for when I wake up?”

Eskel frowns, letting go of his tongue. “Back here?”

Jaskier exhales softly, shakily. “Or not. I mean, of course you must not be tired again since witchers don’t need as much sleep anyway but I- you mentioned travelling on together?”

Ah, so they’re not over the doubt yet.

“Are you losing your memory, bardling, or do you still remember what we discussed at the table earlier?” Eskel asks, trying his best to sound like he’s teasing instead of insulting.

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrow as he bites his lip and Eskel simply waits, smiling softly when Jaskier’s eyes eventually widen and his scent softens into hope and relief. “When you said you’d choose me?”

Nodding, Eskel gestures to the bed. “I meant it, and now I’ve chosen to forget my bedroll again.”

With a pointed glance at Eskel’s bags by his feet, Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Is that your attempt at flirting me into bed, darling?

Really not having predicted that kind of response, Eskel’s mind decides to stop functioning for a moment. He would be embarrassed but the way Jaskier laughs makes him reconsider his urge to flee and just shrug instead. Neither of them say anything else as they settle under the blanket again but a soft gasp escapes Eskel when Jaskier curls around him bit by bit until they’re almost entirely pressed together from Eskel’s chin resting on Jaskier’s head to their feet locked around one another’s. It’s the closest Eskel has ever been with anyone outside of Kaer Morhen’s cold winters spent huddled in front of the hearth and he can’t stop the smile that takes over his face.

“Promise you won’t leave while I’m asleep?” Jaskier asks sleepily.

“I promise I’ll be here when you wake up,” Eskel confirms, wanting not for the first and probably not the last time to literally knock some remorseful sense into Geralt’s thick skull.

“Thank you,” Jaskier mumbles just before he drifts off, most likely missing the way Eskel quietly confesses that it’s his pleasure.

He doesn’t sleep for even a second, he doesn’t need to after all the sleeping they’ve done in the past few days, but he does let himself relax and true to his word, he doesn’t move a muscle until Jaskier stirs again.

“Hello there,” Jaskier yawns, grinning up at him before he rolls out of Eskel’s arms and stretches his limbs as if he were a cat.

Eskel hums, returning the bard’s smile. “How do you feel?”

He already knows that Jaskier will feel better, it’s obvious that he would after sleeping off the siren-induced exhaustion, but it only feels right to ask. Besides, Jaskier’s eyes light up when he does and the warmth of his happiness fuels Eskel’s own.

“Like I could survive a lightning strike,” Jaskier replies theatrically, and Eskel can’t stop the snort that escapes him. Thankfully, Jaskier only rolls his eyes. “Well alright, if you want it in simple terms then I suppose I feel great, much better, well-rested, all of those plain descriptions.”

“What’s wrong with being plain?” Eskel asks, turning onto his side and resting his head on one palm just in time to see Jaskier glare at him like an overly passionate professor would at a hopelessly dispassionate student.

“I have never been plain a day in my life and I certainly do not intend to start now! Do you know how many ways there are to describe waking up, Eskel? I could list them for hours and still not be finished! And not to mention that after you have what may very well be one of the best nights of sleep you’ve had in years- no, decades, that you really cannot be satisfied with anything even close to a prosaically plain answer!”

Jaskier looks ready to fight someone to prove his point but all Eskel can focus on is that someone would want to poetically declare a night with him one of the best nights of sleep they’ve had in not even years but decades. He’d be lying if he said that, minus the sleeping part, he doesn't feel the exact same way.

“Eskel, are you even listening to me?” Jaskier whines, poking his cheek.

He blinks, bringing his attention back to Jaskier with a genuine smile. “I think I get your point, though I’m no bard and will have to make do with being plain.”

Jaskier scoffs. “You, plain? I think not. Have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

While Eskel is busy trying to recall the last time he’d looked in a river and wondering if catching his reflection in his ale counts, Jaskier springs off the bed with a nervous laugh. “I um, I didn’t mean any offence by that, truly, I was just…”

“I don’t own a mirror,” Eskel says, politely overlooking how worried Jaskier seems to look for some reason and the way he’s anxiously rubbing his fingertips together the way he tends to do when he’s expecting the worst.

“Then we’ll be needing a trip to the market,” Jaskier replies easily, the tension in his expression melting into both amusement and disbelief. Eskel doesn’t usually like going to the market on account of the not quite subtle stares and not quite hushed whispers, but he might be looking forward to it this time.

“Right now?” Eskel asks, which prompts Jaskier to remember he’s still wearing Eskel’s borrowed clothes and flush red again; Jaskier points an accusing finger at him but dissolves into laughter before he can say anything, laughing for so long that Eskel wonders if he’s gone mad. Finally, he shakes his head and pulls on his doublet, the lighter blue somehow working well with the rest of the outfit.

Eskel stays still, watching as Jaskier weaves his fingers through his hair so it sweeps to one side and pulls on his boots before picking up his lute and winking. “Might be useful to gather a little extra coin first. There’ll be food waiting for you if you decide you want to listen to more of my singing.”

As if there’s even the slightest possibility that he wouldn’t.

Still, Jaskier’s footsteps have long since faded when Eskel finally sits up and wonders how he so quickly went from leaving at the first hint of dawn to waiting for a bard to buy him a mirror. Not that he’s complaining, he might have a mean poker face but even he couldn’t pretend that finding a plateful of food waiting for him on a quiet corner table doesn’t warm his heart.

He doesn’t know what the song is about this time but it sounds lovely all the same, although not quite as lovely as the bright smile Jaskier sends his way when he notices him. He has all of three seconds to wonder what the mischievous look in those bright blue eyes is about before Jaskier starts singing about the rose of the wolves - about him - again, which leads to everyone raising their tankards at him even if they’re only half-awake.

“You don’t have to sing about me every time I enter the room,” Eskel tells him as he finishes up.

Jaskier shrugs, making sure his now-cased lute is balanced safely before slumping into the seat opposite him in yet another confusing but endearing show of priorities. “It’s the least I can do.”

No, it’s really not.

“I appreciate it,” Eskel says warmly, not sure he’d win in trying to convince Jaskier that he’s done far more than is expected of anyone for witchers, whether or not he’d initially meant to. Another day, perhaps.

“The markets will open soon, are you ready?” Jaskier asks once they near the end of their meals.

Eskel raises an eyebrow as if to remind Jaskier that witchers are known to always be ready for anything. Jaskier offers him a sheepish grin. “Yes, yes, I know you all have enhanced everything and all but what I meant is, do you want to go right now?”

He finishes his drink before replying. “Lead the way, bardling.”

Jaskier grins so widely that Eskel is afraid his face may crack. But all that happens is Jaskier practically inhales whatever is left of his food before rising to his feet and slinging the lute case over his shoulder. He’d ask why Jaskier is taking his lute with him but he knows the question would be thrown right back at him regarding the twin swords on his back so he doesn’t say anything, merely gesturing for Jaskier to lead the way and trying not to make it obvious how momentarily overwhelming he finds the subsequent scent of joy.

“I am going to find you the best mirror, darling, I swear!” Jaskier declares happily, and Eskel doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s probably never going to actually use such an object.

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almost 22k and they're only just barely flirting, send help- no but really, i can’t believe the year is ending before any of my wips, oops :p

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