Geralt knows that. He knew that from the moment they met and has known ever since. Even when others watched with narrowed eyes for signs of Fae or Elvish traits, Geralt never doubted.
He knows Jaskier draws breath through human lungs, that the beating in his chest is that of a human heart. He knows it by touch, by feel, by scent, that Jaskier is perfectly and exquisitely human.
He’s as human as any man - maybe more so than most - Geralt as ever met. And humans, regardless of their stubbornness, or ambition, or reckless courage, are fragile.
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Can I request some more autistic/adhd Geralt? It’s too soft I love
oh absolutely. sorry it took me a minute to fill this prompt but... life hard, author tired
modern au this time, if you want some in canon you can hit me up again with more prompts :)
tw: Geralt deals with some negative symptoms of ADHD and makes a new friend at the gym!
---
Geralt frowned. "I don't want to go, Eskel."
"C'mon dude, please? I need you there to be my spotter... and my wingman."
"Take Lambert."
"Nah, girls like him now. They think he's some kind of Tik Tok sexyman."
"Never say those words in that order to me again. Please."
"Fine. If you agree to come with me tonight."
Geralt did not want to go to the gym. He was tired from working all morning and his medication was starting to wear off; he'd been on Zoom for seven straight hours hashing through the details of the Zoo's grand re-opening at the end of the month with the new director of operations. He was braindead and over-stimulated and grumpy. He wanted to drink something uncharacteristically fruity and alcoholic and hit the hay early.
But he was a good sibling, and good siblings helped out when they had the opportunity. So Geralt grabbed his gym bag, refilled his water bottle, and followed Eskel out the door.
---
Geralt was going to scream.
He needed to go. He needed a minute alone to breathe and process things. Not even a low-dose Ritalin could save him now because he was already on the road to a complete meltdown and he was still stuck at the fucking Planet Fitness.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a soft voice asked from his left side: "Hey, are you alright?"
Geralt's eyes snapped to the stranger's face. A pair of blue eyes were gazing at him with concern and - not pity, but definitely something similar. Empathy, maybe?
"No."
"Do you want to go outside and grab some air? Or we could go sit over by the yoga mats, it's pretty empty right now."
"I don't know you."
Geralt realized how rude and brusque he sounded immediately after the words left his mouth, but he was being honest. He had no clue who this twunk - because no straight man wears a hot pink crop top to the gym unless they're rushing a frat - even was.
"I know," the man smiled, unperturbed. "But I get the same way sometimes when the world gets to be too much. You're breathing wrong and your eyes don't seem to be able to focus very well. Do you need some water or juice?"
Geralt felt very silly and very small, but he managed to ask: "If it wouldn't be a bother, may I have some juice?"
"Yeah," the twunk grinned. "My name is Jaskier, by the way. Right over here..."
Jaskier led Geralt to a quiet corner of the gym and slipped two pouches of Capri Sun from his tie-dyed bag. "How did you know?"
"I have the same problem," Jaskier winked. "ADHD, right?"
"Mhm."
"Haven't eaten anything substantial today, have you?"
Geralt realized that he hadn't eaten anything other than a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast before work and felt very silly once again. "How could you tell?"
"The thousand mile stare," Jaskier answered truthfully. He finished his Capri Sun and tossed the little foil pouch into a nearby trash receptacle. "Respect the pouch! Anyway, it happens to me during class sometimes and my students always remind me to have a snack or take a few sips of my lemonade."
"You're a teacher?"
"Professor! I teach a few English and Music History classes at Oxenfurt, but mostly I'm a member of the research faculty."
"Cool," Geralt smiled. "I'm the head zookeeper over at Kaer Morhen Public Zoo; I'm a monster specialist and I do a lot of their wild animal and monster rehab."
"That's so awesome!" Jaskier declared. "What's your favorite monster?"
Geralt opened his mouth to release a long string of facts about Wyverns before biting his lip and shaking his head. "I don't want to get into that right now, I'm sure you have other places to be."
"I really don't," Jaskier leaned back, crossing his legs in front of him. "And I love hearing people info-dump."
"Me too," Geralt smiled again, more shyly this time. "Anyway... I love Wyverns."
---
"See you tomorrow!" Jaskier beamed, waving as he made his way across the parking lot. "Can't wait to talk more about those endangered Endrega species!"
"Yeah," Geralt waved back. "And about your thesis!"
"Who's that?" Eskel asked, bumping shoulders with his brother.
"I made a friend. Also we're going to Arby's right fucking now because I haven't eaten all day and I'm starving."
"Aye, aye," Eskel nodded. Then he grinned salaciously at his brother and wiggled his eyebrows, "They have the meats."
"Dork."
Geralt leaned the passenger seat all the way back and let his eyes stay closed during their ride to the fast-food joint.
Headcanon that Jaskier can’t flirt because he never really needed to learn. Those big blue eyes and that smile and maybe a well-placed strum of his lute for good measure is all the game he ever needed.
It’s when he finds himself having to work for it that his lack of game because hilariously, endearingly, embarrassingly obvious because who else on this entire planet thinks “bread in his pants” and “sexy goose” are acceptable come-ons?
He should be sleeping, savouring the luxury of a real bed. They leave in the morning.
Geralt says so, out loud.
«But the stars, Geralt.» Jaskier’s words are slurred from drink, but no less earnest.
Geralt sighs. The stars will hold, he refutes. The stars had been there before they got there. They would still be there after they’d gone.
«Right,» says the voice beside him, distracted from the argument by some train of thought. «Like you.»
He doesn’t have much to say to that. To some, he supposes, to Jaskier, it’s true.
«And there -» Jaskier points, just a little too slow, towards the actual reason why he had dragged Geralt to the ground and insisted they stay there - backs on the grass, earliest hints of morning dew dampening their clothes - at a pinprick flash far above, a long trail of light in its wake.
Geralt follows it in its brief journey in the sky, and something inside of him twists.
(shoutout to the spider in my room last night that made me sleep in the hallway floor)
The door slid open with a distinct sound. Not so much the creaking of unoiled hinges as the drag of a poorly fitted frame, a scrape and a jolt as it was yanked free from its constraints to swing into the room.
Geralt didn’t open his eyes, nor did he turn to look at the visitor.
The footsteps were too loud to be attempts at stealth, yet too regular to be those of a misguided drunkard. They did little to rouse him from the comfortable drift of half-sleep that had taken him. The door protested only slightly less to be reunited with its ill-fitting casing.
At the thud of something being dropped to the ground, followed by a softer sound of something being set down gently, Geralt smiled.
“I thought you already had a room,” he spoke into the empty dark behind his eyelids.
“I did,” said Jaskier, lamentation hovering somewhere in the middle space between the door and the bed. “But alas, it is presently occupied by someone else.”
That gave Geralt pause - the idea of his companion sharing his room with a stranger was a familiar one, but the petulant tone was not. He didn’t need to dig for an explanation, though.
“There I was, worn thin and weary from travel, barely able to drag my feet across the threshold, breath of life sustained only by the promise of that downy pillow waiting patiently for my brave return...”
It took a greater deal of effort than he would’ve liked to admit for Geralt to stay awake, tempted by the calm that came with quiet inns and trusted company.
“Only to find it held hostage. Captured and guarded by a foul beast of awesome size -”
Geralt turned at that. Squinting in the dim light, he took in the slump of Jaskier’s shoulders. The words were right, but their execution lacked flare. Come to think of it, he thought he’d heard something earlier. A start and an exclamation, then pacing steps and much swearing, before they eventually wound down. He hadn’t paid it much mind, too accustomed to the sounds of human settlement.
“- with scraggly, furry legs and eyes alight with ill intent-”
Oh. “A spider?”
“It was big enough to ride, Geralt.” And with that, he flopped down at Geralt’s side on the narrow bed, barely bothering to kick off his boots in the process.
“Hmm,” answered Geralt, as seriously as he could muster. “Do you want me to deal with it?”
He only half meant it, loath to move from the dip in the mattress he’d sunk into and frankly, Jaskier’s presence only added to the comfort. Even as he spoke, he felt his eyelids growing heavy. Luckily, the noise at the back of the bard’s throat was a dismissive one.
“You’d only move it, and I don’t want to give it cause to hold a grudge.” The mattress jostled as Jaskier shuffled into a more comfortable position, pressing closer to Geralt’s flank. “And besides, I just spent my earnings on a new coat. I wouldn’t be able to pay your fee for taking on such a formidable foe.”
Geralt hummed in agreement and shifted, stretching his arm out as his shoulder became a pillow. With no objection at all, he allowed the familiar warm weight of the body at his side to pull him under.
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