#i know this sheet a bit sparse but i'm starting a new one next time

[a-s-levynn]

Tiny Token 3rd set

[justleaf]

Summary

Roche and Iorveth go on a date with Geralt as their chaperone (not the hat).

Content Background

This one is especially painful to yeet because it was already completed, together with 50% of the next chapter that was the smutty bits. It was finished right about the time I posted Chapter 5 and would have fit in as Chapter 11, but it just didn't make sense with all the additional plot points I'd shoved in.

I've redacted the parts that could potentially get my tumblr banned btw please donut laugh when you see it.

Original Fic

It Took Years

Length

2,300 words

_____________

“Geralt, remember when I released you from prison and saved you from the Nilfgaardians a year ago?”

The white wolf raised his eyebrows in surprise. Roche had never called in a favour for him, and he could tell that Geralt knew it was going to be quite significant. He had thought about it too many times and despite the embarrassment and possibly never being able to look the witcher in the eye, he simply had no other choice.

“Look, I just need you to help Iorveth and I create an alibi.”

“... Uh-huh?”

“We have a meeting with Dijkstra in Novigrad in a week's time, and I plan to…” he swallowed hard when the words became momentarily stuck in his throat. It took another second for him to gather his courage to speak, and the slight tremble in his voice was immediately noticeable.

“I plan to spend the night with Iorveth in one of the inns the night before. But we need someone to cover us.”

The white wolf seemed to grow even paler and his lips pressed together in contemplation.

“You know that I have enhanced senses.”

“I know, but I need to make sure that no one catches us. Not the Scoia'tael, Blue Stripes, Dijkstra’s spies, Redanian spies, any Nilfgaardian-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. You just need to make sure that everyone thinks that I invited you two for a drink and make sure that no one is listening in.”

“I know I’m asking a lot of you, but you’re the only one I can trust in this situation. I haven’t… Iorveth and I don’t have any other opportunities. I can’t even hold his hand without worrying that someone is watching.”

Geralt stared blankly at him and Roche’s heart began to pump harder. His worry must have shown on his face, for the witcher immediately sighed and shook his head.

“Come to the Chameleon. I’ll get you guys a suite. With a wall to separate the living area and the bedroom.”

Roche looked up at him and down a few times, wondering first if Geralt had misspoke, and then if he had misheard. When the witcher said nothing and shrugged, Roche finally accepted it with a nod.

“Thanks, Geralt. Drinks are on me,” he muttered and hung his head a little. Embarrassment was beginning to burn his cheeks.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.”

<center>_________________________</center>

“Why are we here so early when Geralt only wanted to see us after sundown,” Iorveth whispered as they passed the guards that almost ripped their papers in half. Roche had smooth-talked his way in and Iorveth was impressed, even though he didn't let it show.

They had set aside their armour and entered the city dressed as merchants: Roche in a nondescript outfit that let him blend in with the rest of the nobles, and Iorveth draped in a cloak that obscured his elven features.

The sun was nowhere near setting when they arrived in the city. Roche had intended to take him on a date around the city, but didn’t want to admit it.

“I didn’t want to disappoint Geralt by being late.”

“Gwynbleidd would have understood.”

“Well, since we’re already here, we might as well explore the city. I heard of a tavern along the docks with an elven cook. Would you like to go there?”

The mention of food changed Iorveth’s expression immediately and Roche suppressed his laughter.

They dined at the Golden Sturgeon, where Iorveth immediately received preferential treatment from a redhead with freckles (it's Bea btw). She made sure to seat them in a relatively hidden corner and Roche could see the elf progressively relax as his shoulders began to sag. He even spotted the hints of a smile dancing on his lips when she put some strange fish dish in front of him.

Just when Roche thought that Iorveth was incapable of enjoying himself even more, he became increasingly pliant when they sat down at the Chameleon for a pint while a band played in the background. Roche didn't understand the first thing about music, but his two mugs of ale were enough to get him to keep his reservations.

Besides, he had something really cute to look at.

The elf's cloak was finally down and he could see the tips of his pointed ears twitch with every beat of the drum. He thought about how nice it would have been to pin him down to the bed and toy with his ears. His eyes trailed across the elf’s neck. If they didn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow, he would have left bite marks across that smooth skin.

<em>Mine,</em> he thought, and he wanted the world to know once all this was over.

“You play the recorder don’t you,” Roche asked out of the blue. Their eyes met and Iorveth was slightly startled by the intensity of his gaze, but he didn’t back down.

“Yeah. There’s been too much going on recently and I haven’t had the chance to though.”

“You can practice with mine tonight.”

“Vernon,” Iorveth warned with a glare, and then quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone was within earshot. There wasn’t, but the tension in his body didn’t leave.

“I could polish yours all night too, you know.”

The elf flinched and could see the pink develop along the tops of Iorveth’s high cheekbones and the tips of his ear. Past his flustered expression however, there was a particular heat blossoming in his eyes. Roche didn’t let up, his curiosity driving him to see just how much he could take it.

“My carrying case is a bit small, but I’m sure yours will fit in with a bit of a shove."

This time, Iorveth couldn't resist the urge to push back. Dandelion's tavern was filled with his regulars who were deep in their own conversations, and they were just talking about music, right?

"So you admit that my instrument is bigger."

"Well the quality of the instrument doesn't matter if the musician has no idea how to handle it."

"I think we've proven that I'm the better player though."

"Our last few encounters haven't exactly been skewed in my favour and I still managed."

"There is no fairness in music and in battle. You should know this, <em>Commander</em>."

The way Iorveth said the word made his mouth go dry.

Now <em>that</em> was truly unfair, and his [banana] agreed. He was seconds away from tugging Iorveth upstairs when the doors swung open and in stepped the white wolf.

"Geralt!" he called out and waved a hand.

"Nice to see you both. I hope you didn't wait long."

The witcher took a few steps towards them, sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. He had this resigned look about him and Roche immediately knew that he could smell their arousal.

"Let's drink in my room," Geralt suggested and grabbed four mugs of ale from a passing waitress. She protested at first, but nodded and flashed him a huge smile when she saw who he was.

They headed up the stairs and Roche had to try very hard not to openly stare at Iorveth's ass. It [eggplant] and he had no choice but to stare ruefully at the ground.

As soon as he saw that the second floor was empty, he reached out and pinched the elf's behind. Iorveth jumped at the touch and almost spilled his own mug of ale, and Roche was treated to one of those embarrassed glares. They quietly ascended another flight of stairs and neared the room, and Roche could feel his heart race and his breathing grow ragged.

Finally, after two weeks of planning and trying to fit all the pieces together, it was happening. It had been a year since Dol Blathanna and months since they started seeing each other, and Roche was raring to go.

Geralt opened the door to a suite on the top floor that was exactly as he described: a small living area with a table for four and a few sparse furnishings, though it was far more comfortable than the arrangements he was used to. Partitioned off by a wall and door was a bedroom mostly occupied by a sizable bed and more pillows than he could count. A decision made by the bard, no doubt.

As soon as the door closed behind them and they set down their mugs, Roche grabbed Iorveth’s collar and shoved him towards the bedroom. The elf looked mortified and nearly lost his footing, but he recovered within the span of a few steps. He grabbed Roche’s arms and plucked them off him, then tried to shove him backwards but Roche held his ground.

“What the fuck, Roche?!”

Roche took a step back and considered Iorveth’s anger. The elf's gaze had grown sharp and alert, but he was mostly just shocked at the audacity of his actions. He just flashed him a devious smile and was returned a twitch of confusion.

“What? Didn’t you always like roughhousing me on the forest floor?”

“Not in front of Gwyn-”

Roche barely gave Iorveth a chance to answer. He charged forward, wrapped an arm around the elf’s waist, and threw him straight into bed. Iorveth went flying into the mattress with a groan and Roche climbed straight into his lap. Heavy footsteps thudded behind them and stopped by the door.

“Oil’s on the nightstand. Don’t get the sheets dirty and take your shoes off before you get in bed dammit. I can’t afford to pay for new sheets too.”

“Gwynbleidd, what is the meaning of this.”

“Just a little gift from me to the both of you. Have fun, Iorveth. Just try not to make too much noise.”

The door behind them closed and Iorveth just stared blankly at Roche, who was already taking off his top. No words came out of the elf’s gaping mouth, so Roche blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Enjoying the date so far?”

“Explain yourself Roche, I’m not-”

The elf had to pause when Roche began grinding in his lap. It worked until it didn't, and Iorveth grabbed onto his hips to still them. Roche just wanted to get to the fucking already, but the elf refused to be distracted no matter how much he tried.

“Did you plan all this? Coming to my camp to pick me up. Picking flowers for me along the path. Bringing me to the tavern for dinner. Having drinks. This fake meeting with Gwynbleidd.”

“Of course. When else was I going to get the opportunity to take you out on a date?”

Something in Iorveth cracked visibly and Roche went dead still with nervousness. The other lowered his gaze and Roche cupped his face in his hands, desperate for his elf to be okay. He stroked his cheek gently and tilted his head up to try and get a better look at that unreadable expression. This was the opposite of what he hoped would happen and worry began to pool in his stomach.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong. Talk to me,” he urged and placed a peck on the scarred cheek. There was no answer, so he continued fluttering kisses along his jawline. He felt like his world might come crashing down at any moment and resisted the urge to salvage the situation before he knew what was going on.

It felt like Iorveth was cycling through a thousand and one emotions. He cupped the elf's face in his hands and pulled back, where he was greeted by a vulnerability he had never seen before. The other had this dazed and awed look in his eyes, and if Roche wasn't so flustered by the sudden change of pace, he might he caught his surrender.

“Vernon…”

“I’m here. What is it? You can tell me.”

“It’s just...overwhelming.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

“Good way.”

Roche released the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. It was nice that the reaction was somewhat positive, but Roche’s poor heart couldn’t take the anticipation. Surprising Iorveth was turning out to be quite bad for his health.

“Well. Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“Mmn.”

“It's okay. We'll take it at your pace.”

“I just... need some time to process this. I’ve never been treated like this before. It's overwhelming.”

“Well you deserve it. Take the time you need, it’s okay,” Roche encouraged again and placed another peck on his nose as he undid the bandanna that obscured half his face.

This really wasn’t how he thought the evening would go, but he had to admit that it was nice. At the core of it, all he really wanted was to be able to kiss and hold Iorveth intimately without fear of someone catching them. Now they were in bed and there was someone trustworthy to watch their backs, he supposed he had achieved his goal. Maybe they could just hold off the fucking for a while more.

“Do you want to take a nap with me,” Roche offered after they'd sat in silence for a while.

“Yeah… I would like that very much.”

Iorveth tried to take off his cloak, but Roche shushed him and pushed his hands aside. The elf had a blank look on his face and hurt momentarily flashed across his eye.

"Let me," Roche rushed to salvage as he pulled loose the strings on his cloak.

“I can undress myself you know.”

“I know you can, but just let me pamper you a bit more.”

The tips of Iorveth's ears were bright red and Roche suppressed the urge to tease him about it. Slowly, he helped the elf strip down to his underwear and slipped him beneath the sheets. Then he took off his own garments and joined him, snuggling up to that warm and slender body that seemed to fit so perfectly with his.

Yeah, he could wait.

[lover-of-skellies]

Door 3

You swallowed back your feelings of uncertainty, carefully approaching the door that had gained your attention. You knocked, then waited for a response, only to receive none. As bad as you felt for invading the riders' privacy like this, your curiosity propelled you forward anyway, and soon enough, you found your hand grasping the knob. Giving a gentle twist and nudging the door open just enough to peek inside, you called out, announcing your presence and asking for permission to come in. Once again though, there was none.

Your shoulders sank a bit in defeat and you furrowed your brows; you'd come all this way, your curiosity and determination to get to know each of the riders driving you. Chewing on your bottom lip, you silently contemplated your options for a moment, deciding against simply walking away. You were going to enter anyway, and you were going to look around. As long as you weren't digging through the dresser or rifling through papers, you'd be forgiven... right?

[You selected: Door 3]

Now entering: Pestilence's room

~~~

Carefully pushing the door open and inviting yourself inside, you paused to flick on the overhead light before nudging the door shut behind yourself again. Glancing around the room, you arched a brow, taking in your new surroundings; the bed, as you'd been expecting, wasn't made. The sheets and blankets were pushed down toward the end of the bed and bunched up, and the small stack of pillows even laid carelessly strewn about.

Approaching the bed, your eyes settled on a small picture frame that occupied the bedside table. Delicately picking the item up, you furrowed your brows and frowned; in the photo was a set of brothers. One was tall and lanky, sporting a brilliant crimson scarf and a bright smile, while the other was short and appeared to be a bit rounder. He was clad in a pair of untied tennis shoes, basketball shorts, and a baggy hoodie, all worn beneath a long, oversized lab coat. A pair of large and thin glasses with circular frames were taped onto his skull and his grin was more lazy, almost making him appear tired.

The top drawer of his bedside table was open the smallest bit, and gripped by curiosity, you set down the picture of the brothers in favor of tugging open the drawer. Neatly folded and tucked inside was a bundle of red fabric, which was nearly identical to the shade of the taller brother's scarf that you'd seen in the photo. Reaching out, you gently traced your fingers over it, taking in how soft it felt. As you pulled your hand away, however, you became aware of the dust that now clung to your skin. Knowing the significance of dust, your eyes widened and you hurriedly pushed the drawer shut, attempting to brush the dust off of your hand.

Feeling satisfied after a moment and taking a few seconds to calm yourself, you let out a deep breath, glancing around the room again. Clothes had been scattered across his floor, and you were unsure if they were supposed to be clean or dirty. Not wanting to touch the potentially dirty clothes, you stepped around them, crossing the room to look at some books that lined a shelf.

The books were sparse and some laid on their sides, but from the looks of it, they were mostly joke books, books on a variety of science stuff, and books filled with puzzles and word games. You didn't take Pestilence as the type who liked reading, so finding a collection of books in his room was a bit of a surprise.

On the floor next to the bookshelf was a chest, and you tilted your head, squatting and leaning closer to get a better look at it. There was a series of locks lining the front, meaning you wouldn't be able to see what it contained. Damnit. The curiosity would eat you alive, and you already knew it.

Standing again, you approached the rider's desk. A small lamp occupied the corner, and a decent amount of papers, pencils, and pens laid scattered across the surface. A ruler and eraser also laid atop the desk, over top the corners of what looked like a blueprint for some sort of device. Your eyebrows became knit in confusion; just what was the device? What was it supposed to do?

On an attached shelf was a thick, heavy looking book. Humming softly, you gingerly lifted it, lying it on the desk and flipping to a random page, finding numerous pictures filling plastic sleeves. The first one to catch your attention was of a skeleton in thick, bulky sunglasses. He wore a large, goofy grin, showing off a single gold tooth while his arm was around the shoulders of a rather... irritated water elemental. On the next page was a photo of a purple clad skeleton with heart shaped eye lights, his arms around another skeleton who was covered in errors and glitches, a scowl fixed on his face. You flipped several pages ahead, stopping as a picture of a pair of humans appeared.

There was a girl with medium length, bright blue hair. Her wide grey eyes were lined with dark makeup and her rather pale face was flushed pink as a boy standing beside her pressed a kiss to her cheek. The boy had a tanned complexion, his face also flushed. A pair of large, square glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, messy dark hair curling in every direction atop his head. They were cute together, but you weren't sure you knew who they were.

A rat scurried past you and squeaked, and you jumped, your entire body jolting in surprise. Processing that it was only a rat, you let out a deep sigh, trying to calm your racing your. It was just a rat. Nothing to be worried about. It's not like Pest was back already-

From behind you, someone cleared their throat, and you mentally cursed at yourself. Slowly withdrawing your hand from the photo album, you reluctantly turned to face its owner, who stared at you with a raised brow bone and a hand on his hip. He tilted his head, his tone completely even and calm, "So. Is there any particular reason why you're in my room, going through my old pictures?"

You began attempting to explain what was going on, telling the skeleton that you'd come here because you were curious about him and only wanted to learn about him more. That you'd come such a long way and didn't think you could simply leave when you found the room empty.

His gaze was locked on you as he slowly nodded, processing what he'd been told, "So let me get this straight... You let yourself in and started rifling through my stuff, because you wanted to get to know me better?" Fully aware of how bad that sounded, you made a sound of confirmation, practically radiating guilt as you admitted that you should've just gone away and come back some other time. He hummed in agreement, "Yeah, you should've. It's awfully rude of you to go invading people's privacy like this. Makes me almost kinda wanna go to your house and go through everything in your room, just so you can see how uncool it is."

You hung your head in shame, silent for a moment before you all but hurled yourself in his direction, wrapping your arms around him. Pulling him into a tight hug, you began to apologize profusely, and working past his momentary shock, he sighed, awkwardly returning the hug and patting your back, "Hey, hey, dude, cut it out. I don't appreciate the invasion of privacy, but I'm not gonna strike you dead or anything. Just... this is a warning, I guess. All I ask is that you don't do this again."

You agreed not to let yourself into his room again without permission and he pulled away from the hug, reaching up into his other sleeve to dig into a pouch, withdrawing a vial of the antidote to his touch. He offered it to you and you eagerly accepted it, quickly uncapping the vial and gulping down the bittersweet contents. Returning the empty vial, you thanked him, and then turned to begin walking toward the door.

You briefly paused, your hand curling around the knob as you turned to glance at him, saying your goodbyes. Having already removed his sash and belt, he tugged his hoodie off, a bulky, beaded necklace around his neck. In its design, you wondered if the necklace was made by a child. Pestilence made a soft sound of acknowledgement, returning the goodbyes.

Tugging the door open and exiting the room, you gently shut the door behind yourself. You hadn't expected him to show up so suddenly, and when he had, you thought he would've infected you on the spot as punishment of some sort. The fact that he kept his distance and then even gave you an antidote was mildly surprising, and you made a mental note to thank him again later.