#kitten fluff

Jaskier had been asleep on a bench in the common room for gods-knew-how-long when he was awoken rather suddenly by the sensation of something small and furry rubbing up against the leg of his trousers. A soft purring caught his attention and when he leaned down to see what little creature had approached him, a tiny white kitten with wide golden eyes stared back. It cocked its head cutely to the side and waited for Jaskier to pick it up. 

“Hmm,” he groaned, sitting up properly and stretching. He scooped up the kitten into his left palm and retrieved his lute with the unoccupied hand. “I guess Geralt won’t be getting back until morning. I hope he’s okay.”

The incredibly small, snowy-white kitten made a sort of half-sneezing little sound and pawed impatiently at the lacey collar of Jaskier’s chemise. “Mew.”

“No, darling, I can’t go out into the woods tonight. If the monsters didn’t kill me, Geralt most definitely would,” the bard closed the attic door behind him and set the interloper on the bed. “That grouchy bastard. Why is it that bards always fall in love with the most cantankerous characters?”

“Mrew.”

“Exactly! You’d think I’d get it through my thick skull that Geralt doesn’t love or worry about me the same way I love and worry about him, but it’s too late now! I’m in over my head! I’m head-over-heels, rather. My heart has run amok and taken the rest of me with it, following that rude, short-tempered, endlessly sweet and sexy Witcher wherever he goes,” the bard ranted as he readied himself for bed. Jaskier eventually finished his speech and his routine and settled beneath the covers. He patted a comfortable-looking spot on his sternum and made soft, gentle sounds until the kitten approached him.

“I suppose you’ll need a name,” he mused, watching the puny ball of fur curl into a little ball on his chest. It rested its head on its paws and continued to purr loudly. “Perhaps Dandelion, for your yellow eyes? Or Sunflower? I like Sunflower best. The tiniest blossom in all the land.”

The kitten mripped quietly and stretched its tiny paws, revealing the little pink bean-shaped pads beneath its sharp, untrimmed baby claws. Jaskier bit his lip to keep from squealing and frightening the little animal away. It was just so cute and small and soft. “Surely Geralt won’t let me keep you,” he sighed sadly. “Or I’d put you in my saddle bag and take you on the merriest adventures.”

“Mrew.”

“Stop being so adorable. I can’t take it, Sunflower, truly I can’t.”

The kitten remained silent; its small, quick breaths finally evened out as it fell into a deep sleep. Jaskier, now much calmer with something to ground him, allowed himself to slip into the world of dreams shortly thereafter. 

---

The morning brought no clearer sign of Geralt and with a heavy heart, Jaskier began to pack his things. Sunflower batted and pawed at his trouser leg, meowing and chirping ferociously as the bard’s bags grew only slightly more organized. “No worries, Sunflower, I’ll bring you with me. No doubt Geralt would just shoo you away and I don’t want you ending up drowned or eaten or-”

Jaskier’s façade slipped and he suddenly burst into tears. He collapsed to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. He hadn’t had a breakdown like this in months, maybe years. He’d never been so worried about Geralt before. He wasn’t even sure why he was packing up...

Geralt wasn’t... He couldn’t be, you know...

Jaskier couldn’t even think the word. 

The bard channeled his worry elsewhere, petting Sunflower’s soft white coat as he mewed and chirped some more, purring up a storm. “Oh Sunflower, will he ever come home to me again? Is he lost forever to the forest?”

The bard lifted the puny animal into his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the center of its forehead. 

He was not expecting Geralt to suddenly appear out of nowhere, a handful of his hair held tightly in Jaskier’s grip. Both men yelped and Geralt sat up quickly, trying to explain himself as the bard looked around frantically for the kitten. “Where’d he go? Where did you come from!? Where is Sunflower!?”

Geralt took a deep, steadying breath and adjusted his position on the floor so that he was sitting cross-legged. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. “I... I was Sunflower.”

Jaskier’s facial expression changed from confusion to realization to horror to shame so quickly that Geralt felt his own head spinning. Maybe that was just the curse wearing off; who knew? 

“You heard me sa-” Jaskier clapped a hand over his mouth and scuttled backwards, away from Geralt. The Witcher’s heart twinged uncomfortably in his chest. Jaskier had never been this afraid of him before. The scent of fear filled the room, warm around the edges with a bit of anxiety. “You heard me say so many things. Things I’m sure you never wanted to hear.”

“I killed the nekkers,” Geralt offered rather unhelpfully. “And then I think I stepped into fairy ring or a witch’s trap or something because the next thing I remember was finding my way to your table downstairs.”

“What do you remember?”

“I...” Geralt sighed and summoned all of his courage, glancing up to meet the tearful gaze of his best friend and companion. “I remember you ranting about how much you love me.”

“And?”

“And that you don’t think I loved you back. Not in the same way.”

“I’ll finish packing up,” Jaskier whispered hoarsely. “I’ll be gone before dinner, I swear it.”

“Don’t tell your mother,” he muttered, toeing aside the stack of books Belle had placed in front of the flap.  “Or else she’ll have all of our hides.”  The second the way was clear, the kittens flew at the door.  Kiki streaked through, and it was Mimi and Jasper who followed after her.  Yet they both got stuck in the tight space.  Rumplestiltskin heard their indignant meows and chuckled.  “Oh, enough.” 

He knelt down on his good knee and gently tugged on Jasper’s tail and hind legs so that he popped out of the flap.  Mimi, sandy fur and all, was set free.  Her brother scampered after her, nearly tripping flat on his face in his effort to catch up.  The boy hated to be left behind by his sisters. 

Laughing, Rumplestiltskin opened the door and stepped out into the backyard to see Kiki and Mimi prance through the yard.  They were fearless; they rolled around and pounced in an effort to make an imprint in the snow.  But Jasper was a different story.  He studied the steps leading down the back porch.  He paced back and forth, then watched his sisters.  When he finally reached out to touch the step below him, his tiny paw met ice, and he was sent sprawling down the remaining steps. 

The poor thing landed in a puff of snow, and sneezed.  His sister paused in their mischief to stare at him, and Rumplestiltskin swore they’d be laughing at their brother if they were not presently cursed as kittens.  “Play nice,” he told them, grinning as he shooed Jasper their way.