#plus some Angst about ciri still missing<3

[vtriol]

          ARMS DRAPE AROUND HIS NECK.   they pull him closer, lightly trailing their nails over and over the scars on his chest. it’s a rare moment of calm, when neither of them have work and both are finished with their more... unsavory obligations. geralt came home sore and covered in blood, a sight thana doesn’t blink at. him coming home was enough. so they lead him to the bathroom, undressing him on the way and making a mess of their hallway, but bringing him into the warm bath already drawn.  ❛ i’ll be less mad about you missing date night if you wash my hair for me. after we wash the blood off. ❜  deciding on mercy for now (they could be a nice partner when they want to be!), thana presses a kiss to his jaw, holding back a whine about that beard is too scratchy sometimes.  ❛ so... did the lead work out? ❜

@fatedriven: starter.

[fangirlshrewt97]

The Witcher Fic - Give Me One More Chance (Part 5)

Author: Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Witcher (TV Series)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier|Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer of Vengerburg, Geralt of Rivia & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Jaskier|Dandelion & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier|Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Yennefer of Vengerburg, Roach

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up (Swearing, Mild Gore)

Warnings: None Apply

Additional Tags: Post Episode S01E06: Rare Species, Emotionally Constipated Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Touch-Starved Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt & Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Levels of Violence, Monsters, I really put Geralt through the wringer here, but I am ok with that because poor Jaskier did not deserve it, I do acknowledge though that Geralt is multiple levels of screwed up and maybe thought he was helping them both when he was actually hurting them

Summary: After the dragon hunt, Geralt tries to cope with his actions. And misses Jaskier a lot. But refuses to deal with his feeling even when it almost kills him.

Alternate title: 5 things Geralt misses about Jaskier + 1 he didn’t need to

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389734

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

                                                             *****

Traveling together with Jaskier made the void Geralt had been feeling since the dragon hunt feel a little smaller but at the same time, just as deep as before. For the first few days, Jaskier barely acknowledged Geralt or Yennefer. He was also quieter than ever, though he maintained a constant stream of conversation with Ciri. He answered every question she threw at him, sometimes with outlandishly impossible answers that had her giggling. At night when they made camp, he took over cooking whatever ingredients Yennefer had bought in the previous town and whatever meat Geralt hunted.

He sang his songs, well, every song that did not have to do with Geralt in any way.

He did not touch Geralt. He did not speak to Geralt. He scarcely looked at Geralt.

Geralt wanted to shake the bard, beg him, plead for an accidental brush of their hands, a question out of habit, a peek from the corner of electric blue eyes.

But Jaskier gave him nothing. Demonstrating a mastery over his bodily reactions Geralt had not known the bard was capable of, Jaskier ignored him completely and intentionally.

Jaskier was even cordial with Yennefer, never outright cutting her with sharp words but not sparing a word that was not needed. Geralt would even venture to say they might be friends from the good-natured teasing he heard when he was out of their earshot.

Ciri saw all this, but surprisingly, or maybe totally unsurprisingly, after all how well did Geralt actually know her, the little princess took Jaskier’s side. Or perhaps not side, but she seemed to find his actions justifiable. A few times when Geralt was returning from a hunt, she heard Jaskier and Ciri rummaging about in camp. He heard her trying to convince Jaskier to give him a second chance. Jaskier stayed quiet.

///

After nearly three weeks of traveling together, of too quiet camps, non-music filled walks through possibly enemy woods, of distances so easy to close yet so insurmountable, Geralt was at his wits end. Yennefer had portaled herself and Ciri away, claiming that she had a friend who could help her with training for Cirilla and that the princess needed to remember what a bed felt like. Geralt had a suspicion based on the pointed glare both girls sent his way that they were actually conspiring to grant him some time alone with Jaskier.

Jaskier was mute as he watched the portal closed, getting back to setting up their camp in the same efficient way he had done when once upon a time it had always been just the two of them. Geralt knew he had to be the one to talk, since Jaskier was obviously not going to.

“Jaskier, we have some spices left, and I hear a deer nearby. What do you say we have a meal with some flavor for once?” Geralt asked, wincing at his own pathetic excuse for conversation.

Jaskier just hummed noncommittally. Geralt resisted the instinct to growl or run a rough hand through his hair. Was this what he had subjected Jaskier to all these years? But he did not have the talent the bard did to draw words out of others. Much less from someone who typically could not be stopped from talking. Needless to say, Geralt was frustrated and reaching the bottom of a very shallow pool of ideas.

Which is what he chose to blame for why he completely missed the sound of a monster approaching. Night had fallen, and both were sitting on opposite sides of the camp. He was brushing Roach while enjoying the absentminded strumming of Jaskier’s lute, the bard obviously composing inside his head. Geralt finished brushing and turned, only to feel his breath catch in his throat. Jaskier was glowing by the campfire, his pale yellow doublet casting golden shadows over his delicate features, the shadows making him look all the more unearthly. He was humming something under his breath, and Geralt had to strain his ears to catch it.

Had the bard always been so… lovely?

He was so enraptured in the blue of the bard’s wide open eyes that he entirely missed the alarm in those eyes. Roach’s neighing and shove with her snout was the only reason the endrega did not behead him.

“Geralt!” Jaskier screamed. Geralt did not even have time to enjoy the sound of his name passing through his bard’s lips in nearly a month before the endrega advanced, pinning him to the ground with on of it’s claws.

Geralt freed his arms enough to quickly sign Aard and throw the monster back against a tree. That dazed the creature long enough for Geralt to dive for his silver sword. Now armed, Geralt threw himself at the monster, swinging his sword and managing to cut of one of it’s claws. The endrega retaliated by smashing into him with its mace-like tail. Geralt’s unprotected skin tore easily under the spikes in the monster’s tail. A pained groan escaped him, but his training ensured he did not drop his sword.

The monster clawed at him again, executing a sharp cut into his right shoulder.

“Hey ugly! Try this on for size!” Jaskier shouted, voice dripping with fear yet underlined with the same steel as Geralt’s sword. When Geralt rolled his eyes in his direction, he saw Jaskier holding said sword, arms shaking with the weight but keeping the sword steady. Geralt vaguely recalled Jaskier saying he was nobility, he would have been taught the sword. Or at least fencing. His stance looked firm even if the sword didn't.

The creature snarled before dropping Geralt against the tree and advancing towards Jaskier. Just as Geralt feared that he was going to watch his bard get eviscerated, Jaskier threw something into the fire between him and the creature, making the fire roar up before transforming into a thick green cloud.

Geralt coughed as the smoke enveloped him thoroughly, grimacing as he pressed his abdominal wound closed. On the other side of the fire he could hear the creature screaming and screeching before steel sang through the cacophony and the noise cut off abruptly.

He was still coughing when a pain of hands grabbed him from below his shoulders. He yelled but the body behind him did not stop until they were clear of the camp and the smoke. Geralt was breathing hard and pale as the moon that shone through the trees when Jaskier deposited him against a tree.

Through the haze he saw a cut on the bard’s upper arm, but Jaskier brushed away his arm and cut open Geralt’s shirt with the small knife he always kept on him. He swore when he saw the extent of the bruising. Pressing firmly, he guessed at least two broken ribs, possibly three based on the volume of Geralt's groans.

“Damn it Geralt. Wait here. I will be right back, I need to find your potions.” Jaskier complained as he rose, only to yelp when Geralt yanked him back towards him, nearly sending the both toppling into the forest floor.

“Ow you bastard, I am only trying to help!”

“You… are…hurt…” Geralt rasped.

“Yes and you pulling me by the arm that was injured is not going to exactly make it better now is it?”

“Monster…”

“Is dead. Or at least it better be, the thing was in two pieces last I saw it. Plus we left poor Roach and my precious lute at the camp. Let me go check on them!” Jaskier said.

Geralt groaned but relented. Jaskier stumbled as he was suddenly released but stood up and tugged his doublet into place. “Thank you. I will be right back. Just… try not to get killed will you?”

Saying so, Jaskier disappeared between the tree lines. Geralt groaned again as he closed his eyes and lets his head thump back against the tree. Tonight had not gone at all as he had wanted.

True to his word though, Jaskier came back to where Geralt was, loud enough to wake the forest.

Cursing as he nearly tripped over a root he didn’t see, Jaskier dropped beside Geralt.

“Ok I have all your potions here. What do you want?” Jaskier asked, holding up Geralt’s potion bag. Geralt winced as he shifted against the tree, pretending to do so to get more comfortable and not because this way, Jaskier was leaning more heavily onto him.

“Dark green one. And clear potion in the square vial.” Geralt grit out.

Jaskier rooted around the bag before crowing victoriously as he held out his prize, quickly uncorking the two potions and helping Geralt swallow them. Geralt hissed as he felt the potions rushing through his veins, but settled as his healing was further boosted by the potions.

“Use my tunic.” Geralt slurred. Jaskier looked up confused from where had settled into Geralt’s side.

“What?”

“You are bleeding. Use my tunic. It is ripped.”

“Oh.” Jaskier said. He looks at his own injury, the wound a graze that has almost stopped bleeding. Deciding not to argue with the Witcher for once, he did as told and ripped up the shirt, wrapping the make-shift bandages around his upper arm. with the left over cloth, he wrapped them around Geralt so as to make sure the open wounds did not get infected.

They stayed like that for another moment until Geralt grunted and tried to shift.

“Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

“Are you sure? Can you walk?”

“Jaskier. It is cold and I don't have a shirt. We will both freeze overnight.” Geralt growled.

“Fine, fine off we go to the camp with the dead monster, why not?” Jaskier said as he placed an arm around Geralt’s waist and let the Witcher lean his weight on him as the two made their way back to camp.

Jaskier had Geralt sit back against the tree that Roach was still tied to while he went and reignited the fire that had almost been put out during the fight.

Geralt tried to push away Roach when the horse started to nibble on his hair, patting her nose to comfort her.

The endrega was lying several feet ahead of him, cleaved clumsily in half, his steel sword embedded haphazardly in it's abdomen. Jaskier was quiet as he set about cleaning the campsite, giving the monster’s corpse a wide berth.

“Should we be worried of more of those things coming after us?”

Geralt grunted. “Endregas are solitary creatures.”

“Oh small comfort I guess. Anything else going to attack us while we sleep?”

“No.”

“You sound confident.”

“If something comes for us, I will stop it.”

“Geralt I know I say…used to say you could defeat monsters in your sleep, but I didn’t actually mean it.”

“I am not going to sleep. You sleep.” Geralt bit back, trying to cover the hurt from Jaskier’s correction.

Geralt could make out a vein in Jaskier’s forehead, which was new, and he knew the timing was awful, but he found it equally amusing and adorable.

Jaskier took a deep breath and exhaled it before sitting in front of Geralt. Geralt felt oddly cornered with no escape. Which actually wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“What was your plan?”

“Plan?”

“Plan for whatever you wanted to do without the girls around. And don’t insult my intelligence by saying us being left alone was not planned.” Jaskier said.

Geralt swallowed. The bard perpetually surprised him with his perceptiveness. He sighed.

“I told Yennefer to take Ciri it would be nice to have a couple nights for just us so we could have a chance to talk. So I could apologize.”

Jaskier groaned before mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘stupid Witchers with skulls thicker than the mountains they get thrown against’.

Jaskier sat up from his slump and sat closer to Geralt, making his heart beat tick up. So close, Geralt felt like he would burn from the intensity of the gaze that seemed to pierce right to his soul.

“Before you start apologizing, I want to say that you're an idiot.”

“Hmm.”

“And I kind of hate you right now.”

Geralt flinched internally but kept his face blank. “I understand.”

“No you don’t you self-loathing bastard. I regret the 22 years that I spent with you.”

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek. Was this how Jaskier had felt when Geralt had screamed at him on that mountain that accursed day? Like his heart was being ripped to shreds, and his world was becoming darker with each passing breath? How had the bard ever found it in him not to chase Geralt out of his life in that village? But Geralt heard the slight change in Jaskier’s heartbeat and held on to it like a life line.

“That's not tru-”

Jaskier cut him off. “Okay, that's a lie. But you've really hurt me, Geralt.”

Geralt had a feeling that the expression on Jaskier’s face was yet another that would haunt him in his nightmares, in addition to his face on the dragon mountain and that stupid doppler that stole Jaskier’s visage.

Geralt weighed his words carefully before speaking. He was walking on a tightrope and he had this sharp feeling in his gut that if he messed up this conversation, he would never get his bard back. “I... I know. I'm sorry. You... You didn't deserve any of it.”

“Keep going.”

“You've always been good to me... You're the reason people don't hate me anymore... You were by my side when nobody else was.” Geralt verbalized slowly.

“Glad you finally noticed that, but it doesn't really sound like an apology.”

Geralt clenched his fist. Jaskier was making this unnecessarily difficult. But this was a problem that could only be solved with words not steel or silver or grunts and looming appearances.

Closing his eyes so he didn’t have to see Jaskier’s face, Geralt inhaled deeply and laid his heart out for him.

“I'm sorry I didn't appreciate it. I was a fool. Now I get it. You were always kind, thoughtful, loyal. All you wanted in return was to go on adventures and find inspiration for your songs. I should have respected that. But all I did was treat you as a nuisance and a bother. When you might be the only true friend I have had who chose to be my friend out of his own free will and not because you had a duty to put up with me or were tied to my by something.” Geralt finished, gasping. His hands were so tightly clenched he could feel his nails making crescent indentations into the rough skin of his palm.

Jaskier stayed quiet in front of him. When he pried his eyes open, and hesitantly looked up, the bard was sitting in front of him with a stunned expression and a gaping mouth.

“Jaskier?”

No response.

Geralt tentatively released one hand and barely brushed it on Jaskier’s hand before the bard seemed to crash back into reality.

Geralt and Jaskier froze, hardly daring to breathe. The millimeter of skin Geralt had pressed against the bard felt as though it was on fire.

Jaskier finally gasped out a soft “Oh, you idiot.”

Geralt hardly got the words “What did I say-” before the bard was crashing into him. Geralt tensed up for a minute before feeling all his stress melt away in the bard’s arms. He wrapped both arms around Jaskier and pressed the bard in close, burying his nose into soft brown hair that smelled of sweat and faintly, lavender. In his current position, Jaskier was practically straddling Geralt, his body a line of heat that warmed Geralt to his core.

Jaskier sobbed into his ear “You idiot. Geralt... I... Yes, I wanted those things, but it wasn't what mattered. I... All I ever wanted was you.”

Geralt felt a lump in throat, his heart matching the wild thumping of Jaskier’s own. Today had started off as a nightmare where he had been sure he was going to loose the bard, and now Jaskier was telling him, what? That he…cared for Geralt?

Geralt whispered, scared that if he said the words any louder this moment would break, or worse he would find out it had all been an illusion “All these years... Don't take this the wrong way, but I thought that this was... I thought that once you satisfied yourself, got all the songs and stories you needed out of me, I mean-” Geralt grunted tightening his arms around Jaskier’s waist as he mulled on what to say. “I thought you will get bored with me eventually. I didn't think that you'd… that you might have feelings for me. Beyond friendship. Or companionship. And it is fine if that is all you feel for me Jaskier. I just want to travel with you again. I… I have missed you far too much.” He confessed, his secret out now, no longer weighing him or eating at him.

Jaskier stayed quiet once again, and Geralt feared he had once again said the wrong thing. He loosened his arms even as every muscle in his body was screaming at him to hold on and never let go. Jaskier smelled of confusion, and underlying it was his personal scent of honey and sunshine.

Geralt was so focused on his own thoughts he nearly missed Jaskier’s faint voice

“Feelings? For... How long?”

Geralt tried to suppress the hope blooming in his chest at Jaskier’s own hopeful words, no disgust or rejection in them.

Shrugging, Geralt said “Give or take five to six years.”

Jaskier jaw opened and closed a few times as he lip synched Geralt’s admission before unexpectedly punching him in the arm with the injury.

Geralt groaned. “What was that for?

“Shit sorry. But seriously? Five to six YEARS? You unbelievable idiot, Geralt why the hell would you not tell me?”

Geralt shrugged again, barely not wincing as the movement jostled his injured shoulder.

“You- oh, oh you just-” Jaskier sputtered, slapping his own forehead before pinching his nose. “Ok listen to me you thick-skulled buffoon. I am in love with you. 1000% gone on you. Pining after you so bad the whole continent could see it.”

Now it was Geralt’s turn to gape. He let out a strangled “What?”

Jaskier’s shoulders slumped. “Geralt, we are not made for monogamy. I know that. We have had far too many paramours to pretend otherwise. But do you know why Yennefer was always the one that got under my skin?” At Geralt’s silence, Jaskier continued “She was the one who had a chance. God Geralt, look at her. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life, she is terrifying and powerful, and knows what she wants. She is as immortal as you.” Jaskier’s voice was frail for his next declaration. “How could a mere bard stand up to all that?

Jaskier’s head dropped, and he wrung his hands until Geralt covered them with one of his, the other cupping Jaskier’s jaw and setting his every nerve on fire.

“How long?”

Jaskier whispered “From the moment I met you.” Geralt spied a few tears gathering in Jaskier’s eyes. “Gods. I can't believe it. So much wasted time…”

“Guess we're both idiot.” Geralt offered before pulling Jaskier in closer until they could feel the other’s breath on each other’s faces. “Can I kiss you?”

Jaskier’s breath hitched before he nodded. Unable to wait another second, Geralt closed the gap between them.

It was a simple kiss, just a press of rough lips against dry ones, but both men felt a joy foreign to them flood them and threaten to drown them. They broke to merely gulp a breath before diving into a second kiss that was far more passionate.

As both men fell back against the tree, uncaring of the rough bark, Roach snorted something that had they been paying attention could almost have been interpreted as “Fucking finally.”