Geralt is too stubborn to admit that maybe his spring time sensitivities should be worthy of a rest. And, maybe Jaskier discovers it’s kind of fun to watch.
Hh-! Hdt!…
“You’re impossible”, Jaskier muttered testily, having had to listen to the Witcher’s lungs and sinuses rebel against the very thing they were waist-deep in for the better part of the day.
It was one of those picturesque spring days where it seemed the sky could go on forever as the world began it’s triumphant rise from slumber.
Jaskier loved that time of year, always seemingly in a good mood, with a song on his tongue. His companion however seemed to become ever moodier as the weather turned warm and new life began along the trails they roamed.
The Bard was endeared that the sudden blooming of all manner of plant-life caused a curious reaction in his traveling companion. Even if said companion refused to admit it and compromise for it.
He’d never known Geralt to have allergies per say, but with that sense of smell… Well, things were bound to get overwhelming when everything decided to pollinate at the same time.
The whole irritation of the situation could have been circumvented if the stubborn man had simply waited for a better day.
Still, true to form, Geralt pushed on silently.
Well, almost silently.
Hhih!… HAH'RIIISSSHUH! HHRUUSSSH! Ugh…
Jaskier sent a mental blessing, Geralt had already forbade him from speaking about his current predicament by mid-morning. A sure sign that the sinus headache was beginning to win, that and… Maybe Jaskier had looked on too sympathetically for the stoic man’s taste.
It’s only a matter of time… Thought the bard as he idly ran his hand through the high grass they were trudging through. His errant movements doubtlessly kicking up more pollen than necessary, but see, he was beginning to formulate a plan. . . .
After a few moments of careful consideration Jaskier reasoned that what he was about to do was for the Witcher’s benefit, mostly, but he couldn’t deny how the idea of such playful treachery sent a pleasant shiver of excitement throughout his body.
He licked his lips and cast his gaze in a sweep of their surroundings.
They were almost to the treeline where Jaskier could see the faint tendril of chimney smoke filtering above, an Inn, so he would have to act fast if he wanted to make his point clear.
Luckily for him, whilst his mind was scheming, Geralt was already beginning yet another tedious climb of a build up. His movements slowed, sluggish, as his entire focus was overhauled by that slow burning need for release.
Jaskier swallowed hard, his heart thumping harder in his chest as he indulged himself with watching his friend’s struggle.
Hh!… Eh… Nghh…
Lost it, he thought sadly as Geralt groaned, and began to scrub a gloved wrist roughing back and forth beneath his nose.
Jaskier winced and decided it was now or never.
With a careful fluid movement, that his hands were renowned for, he bent slightly to sweep both appendages through the blooming foliage. Faint clouds of yellow billowing up, caught on the breeze, swirled around them.
Jaskier felt as if his own throat was to dry up when he caught his breath and held it. Gaze locked on the Witcher’s back as he sees the larger man stop abruptly, arm working furiously to quell the growing itch.
Hh-! Hih’…. F..Fuh-fuck…. Heh’…
With a final watery gasp, Geralt drops his arm and relents to the overwhelming need to be rid of the irritant.
Hih’ HAESSSHHUU! … Hh!..HAHH’IIIISHHIEW! HAASSSHUH! Hhh!- Huh’ ISSHUH! Guhh…
What follows is a short series of itchy-sounding coughs and the muted pull of a congested nose before Jaskier remembers to breathe.
“ Bless you, Geralt! Alright?”, he ventures, closing the distance to swing around his friend and offer his handkerchief without the normal flourish. Guilt licking at the edges of his triumph when he see how affected his intervention has left the Witcher.
Geralt accepts the cloth and immediately sets to try and clear his nose but it’s obvious after a few moments that the congestion is there to stay. He emerges blearily, unable to even sniffle, his tired and irritated eyes glance briefly to the bard.
His eyes are red and itchy-looking, stinging tears tracking down his face. There is still that telltale haziness to them that has Jaskier wondering if there will be yet another fit somewhere close by.
Jaskier is almost ashamed enough to confess when he recognizes the embarrassment marring his friend’s already suffering visage. It was for his own good, he reminds himself, slightly dubious to his reasoning now that all is said and done.
“Come, there is an Inn ahead. I’m sure a bath would help, as well as some rest”.
He expects a fight still and is surprised when he is met with a simple nod and Geralt already heading down the path again.
Jaskier picks up the pace then, going over the details of the last few minutes in his mind as he decides he owes it to the Witcher to see that he is thoroughly cared for.
