#pining geraskier

prompted by @amazingmsme

----

Geralt was doing that thing again.

It happened at the end of every autumn season. They travelled further and further north. They left Temaria and crossed the Pontar, and Geralt got even shiftier than usual. They made their way through Redania, and Jaskier could practically feel Geralt’s hackles rising. They reached the Kaedweni borders and Geralt’s shoulders were so tense they were up past his ears.

Geralt would be leaving him behind soon to go winter in Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier would travel back through the lands to settle in Oxenfurt until spring hit and the snows melted.

Jaskier waited every day for the typical excuses. He wouldn’t be hurt, when they came. He knew Kaer Morhen was probably no place for a human, being difficult enough to hike to even before the snow and ice set in to impede the travel. Not to mention the monsters lurking about the mountains; and the witchers themselves, if they were anything like Geralt when he’d first met his White Wolf. They probably wouldn’t take well to a stranger.

Jaskier could tell that Geralt had been taking them through a longer route to get to where he was going. There were far faster routes, the ones they’d taken in past years, through the riverside border towns. Instead, Geralt had led them through Rinde (or, more accurately, past Rinde, as neither had been keen to return ever since the djinn incident) and up into Kaedwin’s rough wilderness, with the nearest cities being a week’s travel at least.

Geralt was doing that thing again, where he drew out his goodbye to Jaskier as long as he possibly could.

Honestly, Jaskier thought it was sweet. Geralt’s words and glares may have often been harsh, but he spoke much louder and much more fondly with his actions than anything else. Geralt could deny their friendship all he wanted, but Jaskier could see the truth. The man liked him, whether he wanted to or not. Jaskier had grown on him.

Like a weed. Or a particularly stubborn flower.

(Granted, Jaskier would love something more than friendship, but truly, simply having Geralt in his life was enough. So long as they were together in some fashion, Jaskier could suffer a little pining. He could suffer through anything, so long as he had Geralt.)

Except, they reached the town of Shaerrawedd, where the two of them would usually part (though it was more logical to part while Jaskier was still in Redania, making his travel to Oxenfurt much easier, they hadn’t done that in years. Jaskier liked to think it was because Geralt missed him as much as he missed Geralt), and Geralt still hadn’t said goodbye. They travelled up the nearby Lixela river together, and Geralt still hadn’t said goodbye. They passed through one of the smaller towns to have a warm night’s stay in an inn, and Geralt still hadn’t said goodbye.

Jaskier decided he had to put a stop to this as they passed through Ard Carraigh. There were no more towns left, he couldn’t go much further and still be able to travel back safely when Geralt finally did work up the courage to say goodbye.

“I suppose this is where we part ways,” Jaskier sighed quietly, watching Geralt brush down Roach in the stables. It sounded far sadder than he had intended it to.

Geralt went stiff, the movements of the brush stuttering for a moment. He cleared his throat and continued brushing. Jaskier gave him the space and time needed to think out his words, knowing the drill by now.

“Actually,” Geralt said quietly, “I thought you could come along this year. As my guest.”

prompted by @amazingmsme

--------------

The sun had started rising earlier and earlier, but that didn’t stop Geralt from waking Jaskier up at the asscrack of dawn. His grumpiness was only somewhat soothed by the sweet kisses Geralt pressed to his lips before he moved to get ready for the day. Jaskier sighed and laid back against their pillows, watching Geralt slowly begin to pack up their things.

They were starting their travel back down the Killer that day. Geralt promised him that it wouldn’t be as terrible as the way up, thanks to the snows having melted and the temperature slowly but steadily rising. Sure, it was still fucking freezing outside, but it would be far more tolerable than their late start up the mountain had been.

It took an extraordinary amount of kisses and a few dirty promises before Geralt finally convinced Jaskier to leave their bed and the warmth that it still carried. They dressed each other slowly, leaving the memory of fond touches and hidden marks to carry them through the day. They wouldn’t often have this much privacy while on the path, so they made the most of it while they could.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, a little more somber than Jaskier would’ve liked. He and Geralt were the first ones leaving, as unfortunate as it was, because it was likely to take them much longer to travel down the mountain than the others. Jaskier wasn’t so prideful as to be unable to admit that he slowed Geralt down, but at least he could rest easy in knowing that Geralt didn’t exactly mind.

They were set to leave right after breakfast. Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir trailed wordlessly after them as they went to fetch and prepare Roach for their trek. Jaskier let Geralt say his goodbyes first as he tended to Roach, knowing that, as much as he would deny becoming emotional, he would probably need a few moments to compose himself after saying goodbye to his family for the next year. Then, Geralt took over minded Roach and Jaskier walked over to say his own goodbyes.

Vesemir stepped up to him first, surprising him by pulling him into a firm hug. Jaskier didn’t let his surprise distract him for long, quickly hugging him back.

“You keep that boy from being stupid this year, you hear me?” Vesemir said into his ear. “And yourself, too.”

Jaskier chuckled and squeezed him even tighter. “I’ll do my best.”

prompted by @amazingmsme​

-------------

Jaskier woke slowly, for once warm and not congested. He rolled onto his back and rubbed at his eyes before giving a full-body stretch. He laid there in the sleep-warm furs for an undetermined amount of time before the door quietly creaked open and Geralt stepped in.

“You’re up,” he said simply.

“I’m up,” Jaskier replied.

Jaskier didn’t know what happened while he was out, but Geralt was carrying even more tension than usual. Jaskier sat up in the bed and arched his back, popping it.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Fine.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you certainly seem so. What’s going on, Geralt?”

Geralt sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Jaskier was warm and content and still groggy, so he risked leaning forward against Geralt’s back and hooking his chin over Geralt’s shoulder, just barely holding himself back from wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist.

“Just Lambert and Eskel being assholes.”

Jaskier hummed, letting his eyes slip shut. “Yes, brothers tend to be like that.”

Geralt snorted, then shifted just enough to dislodge Jaskier and make him open his eyes with a whine.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s time for dinner, and then you are going to bed early because Vesemir will be putting you to work tomorrow.”

Jaskier whined again, flopping back against Geralt. “We just got here, we don’t get a day to relax?”

“Come on,” Geralt said. “I’m sure he’ll go easy on you. You’re… squishy.”

Jaskier gasped, swallowing the playful grin that tried to fight it’s way onto his face. “I am not squishy, Geralt, how dare you! I am perfectly fit, thank you very much! Would you like to feel my abs? My biceps?”

Geralt smirked at him and reached over to grab his bicep, only he grabbed too close to Jaskier’s armpit (likely on purpose), making him yip out an almost-laugh and jerk back.

“Ass,” Jaskier said, shoving at Geralt’s shoulder, though he was smiling.

“Dinner,” Geralt replied, getting up and moving toward the door. “Or I’ll tell Eskel and Lambert that you’re ticklish.” 

Jaskier was scrambling out of the bed before the words were even out of Geralt’s mouth. He hadn’t been home to Lettenhove in a long time, but he remembered what siblings were like in tickle fights. He didn’t want to think about what witcher siblings were like in tickle fights.

Jaskier wondered if it was possible for a person to die of laughter, and if that person would be dying in joy or in pain.

His brain kept leaping from thought to thought like that, making what Geralt would call “unconnected jumps,” but made perfect sense to Jaskier himself, talking aloud the whole time to give Geralt a running commentary on his thoughts. Geralt didn’t reply, but as they made their way down to the kitchen, Jaskier kept glancing over at him to read what he was trying to say through his facial expression and body language.

“--and that’s the story of how my brother lost his breakfast in the carriage because he was trying -- and failing -- to be a jokester,” Jaskier finished, just as they made their way to the kitchen door.

Geralt stopped before opening it. “Behave,” he said.

prompted by @amazingmsme

------------------------------------

Nothing changed.

Lambert had told Eskel that something was going to change, that something was going to happen between the two lovebirds, but it didn’t . Jaskier and Geralt were still as pathetic as ever. They stared at each other when the other wasn’t looking, expressions filled with so much affection and pain that Eskel’s heart ached at the sight of it. It was beyond ridiculous at this point, and something really needed to be done.

“But what can be done,” Lambert snarled. “I tried so hard yesterday!”

Eskel threw up his hands. “I don’t know! Get them drunk? Lock them in a storage room until they sort it out?”

Lambert snorted. “Vesemir would never let us lock them up.”

“I don’t know, he seems to be getting pretty sick of all the pining and jealousy, too.”

“That can be Plan B. The drunk thing, though, that could work.”

Eskel rolled his eyes. “I didn’t actually mean it. They’ve probably been drunk around each other a hundred times by now, and nothing’s happened yet.”

“So we’ll just have to make something happen.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

They sat in silence for a handful of moments before a voice burst out from behind them, making them both leap into fighting stances.

“For Melitele’s sake, just play one of your stupid drinking games and put us all out of our misery,” Vesemir snapped, storming into the remote hallway they were hiding in.

Eskel stammered and raised his hands in surrender, while Lambert simply stood there and crossed his arms. Vesemir rolled his eyes at them.

“Like you said, I’m as sick of these boys' antics as you are. I’m not too keen on my keep smelling like heartache for the next several months.”

“So, what, we just play ‘I’ve Never’ and hope those two figure it out?”

Vesemir shrugged. “You just have to ask the right questions.”