#winter prompt challenge 2k20

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Locked Out

winter prompts day 10 ❄️ lost in a storm

 If Jaskier was a stupider man, he'd be confused about the sheer amount of times he and Geralt seem to be getting stuck places together. But he and Geralt had been the first to arrive and these things only started happening after both Eskel and Lambert had reached the keep. Jaskier can put two and two together and come to the conclusion that none of this is an accident.

Unfortunately for him, Jaskier also knows why it's happening. Witchers can smell all sorts of stupid, inconvenient shit, one of the more prominent (and most inconvenient) of those being the changes in human emotion. Meaning that if Jaskier wants to keep his feelings to himself, he has to try very hard to do so. And he discovered almost as soon as the other Witchers showed up that he is terrible at it. The only conclusion he can come to is that between the four of them, they've come to the (albeit correct) conclusion, that Jaskier is hopelessly in love with Geralt, and set themselves to the task of getting together.

What they don't know, is that Geralt barely tolerates Jaskier at the best of times and getting them together is a lost cause. He wants to confront them about it, but he rather likes the time he gets to spend alone with Geralt, whether they're cooking or cleaning or chopping wood. Geralt is different up at the keep than he is on the Path and Jaskier likes this friendlier, more open side of him. So, as long as no one is getting hurt (himself notwithstanding) he decides there's nothing wrong with their little game. They think they're solving a problem and Jaskier gets to spend some time with his friend in a place that's comfortable for him.

Then, one day, they're all gathered in the main hall. Vesemir has long grown tired of Geralt and Lambert's bickering and has retired to his room or the library or wherever it is he goes when he's had enough. Jaskier is once again left alone with the younger wolves and Aiden and he's enjoying the conversation, but he finds himself tuning out more and more often tonight, wondering what it was like to grow up in a place like this.

He knows it was very different then, that there were many more Witchers who called Kaer Morhen home, but he doesn't dare ask more than that. He's gleaned enough from the little bits and pieces from Geralt to know that his childhood was not a happy one and if he's happier here now, Jaskier doesn't want to stir up bad memories.

Jaskier doesn't realize he's staring at Geralt until Lambert nudges him. He shales his head and turns around to a very smug look.

"Aiden's gonna grab drinks," Lambert says, "why don't you and Geralt go get more firewood while we settle up in here." Jaskier nods obediently, casting a quick look in Geralt's direction to see if he suspects anything. Geralt just sighs as he rises to his feet. Jaskier follows suit and traipses after Geralt toward the large doors.

They've only been outside a couple of seconds when Jaskier hears the doors click shut behind them and the sound of the lock being slid across. He spins on his heel immediately and Geralt takes a few steps back, pressing on the door, to no avail.

"You can come back in when you figure your shit out!" Lambert calls through the door. Jaskier can hear them mumbling afterward, but it's too quiet to hear properly. Geralt sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Idiots," he mumbles and turns back to Jaskier. He seems surprisingly calm, but Jaskier feels immediately guilty. This is his fault. He shouldn't have let the game go on for so long and now they're stuck out in the cold until, well, until Lambert and his cohorts decide that they've figured their shit out - something Jaskier knows won't happen.

Fuck. He should have talked to Eskel when he had the chance. He knows Eskel would have listened, that he wouldn't want to force Geralt into something he's uncomfortable with. He might have even talked to Lambert and Aiden about it, gotten them to call it off as well, but Jaskier had been greedy. He had wanted too badly to spend time with Geralt that he hadn't considered things might get out of hand, and now they have.

All at once, he realizes the only way to solve this is to own up to his own feelings. Maybe it will make Geralt uncomfortable for a little while and maybe he won't want to travel with him any longer, but it's his fault for not saying something earlier. Now, it's the only thing he can do to fix this.

He turns to try to explain to Geralt, but when he does, Geralt is smirking back at him.

"Bastards," he mumbles, "what do you say we beat them at their own game?"

Jaskier, stunned, just looks at him.

"I-" if that's what Geralt wants, how could Jaskier turn him down considering this is his fault. "Alright, what do you have in mind?"

"Find somewhere to hide out until they come looking for us," Geralt smirks. Jaskier finds himself at a loss. Ever since coming to Kaer Morhen, he's been continuously surprised about how much fun Geralt really could be when he was comfortable enough to let go. He finds himself agreeing without even thinking through what a terrible idea this could actually be.

"Come on," Geralt says, "we'll head up to the old watchtower and watch them from there."

It's a great idea in theory. In practice, Jaskier will be oblivious to whatever Geralt is watching and he's already wondering why he agreed to this. They barely make it down the hill before it starts to snow and Jaskier sighs to himself. He doesn't quite understand why he's feeling so bad about all of this because Geralt seems to be having a perfectly fine time with it and regularly Jaskier would be thrilled to (team up) with him, but tonight, he's still feeling a little guilty about everything.

A part of him is even hoping Geralt will turn around when the snow starts, but he doesn't and it only starts to snow more heavily. Jaskier does his best to keep up but finds he's falling behind and eventually gives up when he loses sight of Geralt altogether.

"Geralt!" he shouts and for a moment there's no response. Great, he was stupid enough to keep playing along with this and now he's going to die for it, lost and frozen in the middle of fucking nowhere.

He drops to his knees in the snow and is almost immediately hauled back up to his feet. Geralt's arm wraps around his shoulders and suddenly Jaskier is being walked forward through the snow. He has no idea if they're going in the same direction or if they've turned around, but he trusts Geralt to keep him safe.

He doesn't know how long they walk before coming upon a partial structure, half-buried in the snow. Jaskier is pushed inside and Geralt follows shortly, brushing the snow off of himself and then Jaskier. Before he can stop to consider his options, Jaskier is being tugged down into Geralt's lap and bundled up in his arms. He squirms but Geralt holds him close.

"Just... let me warm you up. You're nearly frozen." Jaskier wants to point out that it's Geralt's fault he's nearly frozen, but he's feeling more miserable than bitter.

Reluctantly, he lets Geralt hold him and hopes that he's considered warmed up sooner rather than later. He relaxes into it after a moment, but he's hyperaware of every place they touch. Geralt's hands are warm and comforting, but when they slip under the hem of his shirt, Jaskier pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I can't let you do this."

"Do... what?" Geralt asks. The expression on his face is a combination of hurt and confusion and Jaskier hates it, but he knows this is for the best.

"Treat me like this," he mumbles. "It's my fault we're in this place."

"Jaskier, I wasn't going to force you through the snow-"

"I don't mean here in this little shack, Geralt. I mean locked outside the keep in the first place." At this point, Geralt looks at him like he's speaking a whole other language and Jaskier sighs. His shoulders slump and he braces himself, but he supposes it was bound to come out at some point. It's been twenty years, after all.

"You know what they're doing, right?" Jaskier asks and Geralt shrugs.

"Being idiots."

"No." Jaskier pauses, but he can't bring himself to look up at Geralt. He's imagined telling Geralt how he feels time and time again, but he never expected it to be an apology. "Geralt they're trying to get us alone together on purpose. Because of my- because of the way I feel about you. Witchers can smell feelings or whatever, right? And I'm not as good at hiding it as I thought I was, so they've obviously figured it out. And I know they're just trying to help, but they don't realize that you don't-" he chokes on the words He's thought they dozens of times, but knowing Geralt doesn't feel the same and saying it out loud are two different things.

"Jask?" Geralt says softly and when Jaskier looks up, he's moved closer and he's smiling softly at him. "Is that why you think they're doing this?" Jaskier nods and Geralt sighs and shuts his eyes. "Jaskier, come here."

"Are you sure?"

"Jaskier."

"Okay, okay." He shuffles closer again, letting Geralt's arms wind around him. He tries not to press into him, but the hut is cold and Geralt is so warm and he smells wonderful, like leather and smoke and home and Jaskier is so worried about being so close that he doesn't realize Geralt is talking until he rests his chin on Jaskier's head.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Uh. Yes?" Geralt sighs and does something that Jaskier can only assume is nosing at his hair.

"I didn't know about your... feelings. I thought they were just fucking with me." His arms close in a little tighter and Jaskier is too confused to fight against it. Geralt chuckles softly and Jaskier is fairly certain he's actually imagining things when he feels soft lips press against his head. "If I'd known you were amenable, I would have kissed you a long time ago and gotten them off our backs."

At that, Jaskier is certain something is wrong. Geralt doesn't just say things like that. He pulls out of his arms, turning to face him.

"Are you sick?" he asks and Geralt tips forward, swiftly closing the space between them and catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.

Jaskier's mind goes entirely blank and he forgets what he's supposed to do with someone's mouth against his own. Then, Geralt's thumb comes up to brush against his cheek and when Geralt deepens the kiss, Jaskier moans softly and his reflexes take over, leaning into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Geralt's shoulders.

Without hesitation, Geralt winds his arms around his waist, hauling Jaskier up into his lap and leaning back against the wall. The kiss seems to last an eternity and no time at all and when Jaskier pulls away it's only because he's abruptly aware that he still needs to breathe.

"Oh," he breathes and Geralt smiles at him, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair back behind Jaskier's ear.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Me too. I suppose this means we'll have to thank the other?"

Geralt chuckles as he curls a hand around the back of Jaskier's neck and draws him close for another kiss. "Not a chance."

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Tangled Up in You

winter prompts day 2  ❄️ huddling for warmth

There are certain things Jaskier is starting to believe his brain willingly forgets (for his own good) as soon as the experience is over. These include, but are not limited to: drinking too much, rough sex the night before a long day of walking, and sleeping with the butcher's husband.

Wintering at Kaer Morhen is one of those things.

It's not that he's ungrateful, because he's been thrilled every year since the first that Geralt has approached him with the offer. And Jaskier is happy to join him, happy to make the trip even through snow and rain and whatever else late autumn has to offer.

And it's not that he doesn't like spending the winters with Geralt and his family, because he does. It's just that he's always given his own room - which is fine, everyone needs their own space, especially for months on end - but it's just so big. Or, rather, the bed is so big and empty with only him in it.

Over the warmer months, he grows used to sleeping in a bedroll next to the fire or, when they find paid lodgings, quite frequently sharing a too-small bed with Geralt. It had seemed like an inconvenience at first, but they've found a way to fit together that makes it easier for Jaskier to sleep with Geralt than alone. And here he has so much room. Too much room; he and Geralt could both fit comfortably without getting in each other's way. Even his bed back in Oxenfurt is smaller than this.

Jaskier shivers as cold air slips under the covers from gods know where. He'd thought he'd tucked in all the loose edges last time, but apparently, he missed a spot. He readjusts, tucking his feet back in and wiggling just a little to ensure he's blocked all the gaps. But it doesn't help.

After another half hour of sleeplessness, he climbs out of bed with his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders and slips out of his room and down the hall. He knows he'd be more than welcome to crawl into bed with anyone, but he hasn't had much time to spend alone with Geralt since they arrived, so he heads for his room.

Outside the door, he hesitates for a moment before knocking. It's pointless because Geralt probably heard him coming, but it just feels polite. There's no response, so he pushes the door open a little bit and he's about to call out to him when there's a grumble from across the room.

"Lambert if that's you, fuck off and go sleep with Eskel I don't want your stupid cold feet on me."

"Um," Jaskier says in a very small voice, "not Lambert. Still cold, though."

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks and Jaskier can hear the rustling of the blankets as he turns over. Jaskier bites his lip to keep his teeth from chattering and curls his toes. He doesn't want to be turned away due to cold feet. He doesn't say anything else, but after a moment there's another sleepy groan and a soft, c'mere. So he does.

He slips up to Geralt's bed, but when he lifts the blankets to climb in, he freezes. Geralt is entirely naked and Jaskier has to fight against the wave of heat that rolls up his neck. On second thought, freezing to death wouldn't be the worst way to go. Or maybe he'll go see Eskel - he had offered, after all. He's already backing away when Geralt climbs out of bed and comes after him.

The noise that comes out of his mouth when Geralt catches him is something like a seabird and he would be embarrassed about it if he didn't have more important things to worry about. Like being carried to bed by a very sleepy, very naked Geralt.

He knows better than to struggle against Geralt, but then he's being plopped onto the bed and Geralt crawls over him. He's barely settled before he wraps an arm around Jaskier's waist and tugs him down with him. Reluctantly, Jaskier adjusts to make himself comfortable, but it presses him right up against Geralt's bare chest. Which is, to be fair, quite lovely and very warm.

But Jaskier is suffering because he's lying in bed with a big, naked Witcher wrapped around him and while the premise may be the subject of many a daydream, he'd pictured it rather differently. The worst part is that the warmest part of him is where his shirt is rucked up and Geralt's bare skin presses against his own.

With as much subtlety as he can manage, Jaskier shifts, pushing the shirt up further. There's a grumble from the back of his neck and then one warm hand settles on his hip, sliding under the hem of his shirt and slipping around to his chest. Jaskier's heart stops as his mind speeds through every possible reason for Geralt to touch him like this and before he can settle on any of them, Geralt is lifting his shirt and tugging it up over his head. Jaskier instinctively goes with it, like a child being changed out of dirty clothes.

Stunned and confused and more than a little aroused, Jaskier turns to ask what the fuck is going on, but when he shifts, he finds Geralt with his eyes shut, the softest little smile gracing his lips.

"Rest," he breathes and when Jaskier tries to settle, he finds it much easier than expected, the warm weight of Geralt's arm around him comforting.

He's not sure what to do with his own arms, so he squirms for a few minutes, trying to find somewhere comfortable to put them. They've shared beds before more times than he can count (more often than not, even) but they've never slept face-to-face like this. And given the opportunity, Jaskier is not about to take it for granted.

Tentatively, he slides an arm around Geralt's side, slotting it just beneath Geralt's arm and finds it rather comfortable. And more than that, Geralt presses into the touch, apparently pleased with it. Jaskier has only just closed his eyes after finally finding a good way to lie when Geralt speaks again.

"How many years have you been coming here with me?" he asks and Jaskier quickly runs through the past winters, trying to remember.

"I don't even know. Many?"

"Why do you never sleep with me?" If his nose wasn't pressed into Geralt's chest, Jaskier's jaw would probably drop. What does that even mean?

"We share at the inns all the time," Jaskier mumbles, "I thought you might want your space."

"Mm," Geralt hums, "but I like to share with you."

Oh. Oh. "Okay." Geralt tugs him a little closer, and one of his knees comes forward to press between Jaskier's thighs. "In that case," Jaskier whispers, "maybe I should move all my stuff in here? You wouldn't want me freezing to death over the winter now, would you?"

"Couldn't have that," Geralt agrees and Jaskier can feel the warmth of his breath in his hair, followed by what he would swear is the softest of kisses. "Couldn't have that."

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Alone With You

winter prompts day 5 ❄️ nighttime snow

thank you to @petrificustotaluss​ for the stunning banner 😍

It's been a long day and now that everyone has settled in to sleep, Geralt can sit and think without interruption. He's glad to have Jaskier with him, still shocked that he managed to get the words out to ask him to come, but glad that he did. But being happy about it and knowing it was the right decision are two different things and Geralt is struggling with the latter.

They had arrived late after a rough trip and Jaskier had been exhausted, yet he had still made the rounds, introducing himself and chatting to the others, telling them how pleased he was to meet them. Then he met Eskel and things were... different. He's never seen Eskel's eyes light up like that before, and the intense focus Jaskier had on him was a little overwhelming, even as a spectator. Geralt hasn't been the target of that intensity for a long time, but he remembers it well.

He had removed himself from the situation after that, not wanting to intrude on their conversation - and he wouldn't have been able to help but listen in. He couldn't be mad about it, really, if there was something there. All he's ever wanted for Eskel is happiness and with Jaskier, he's learning still that he'd rather be alone and watch Jaskier flit off with every second person he meets than to see him lonely. It doesn't stop the thought from hurting, but it does make him feel a little better about it.

Eventually, Jaskier had returned to his side, but they hadn't had time to do much but walk around a little before turning in.

Jaskier has his own room and Geralt hadn't realized how much he had come to rely on Jaskier's breathing to settle him at night. It's fine though. Even if he has to wake up early, being well-rested is optional at the keep (unless he's heading into the mines with Eskel). So tonight, when he couldn't sleep, he'd gotten up and headed out into the courtyard to think.

It's dark, but Geralt's eyes adjust quickly enough and he finds himself keeping to the upper levels, looking out over the valley. It had been a long, hard journey up, harder than usual, and Jaskier hadn't complained once. Geralt smiles to himself, remembering the bright-eyed boy he'd picked up in Posada who had immediately complained about wearing the wrong boots. A lot has changed since then.

He's leaning against the wall when he hears footsteps crunching in the snow behind him. When he looks back, he's surprised to find Jaskier smiling up at him as he climbs the stairs.

"What are you doing out here?" Geralt asks. "You'll freeze."

"Guess you'll just have to keep me warm then, hm?" Jaskier ducks under his arm and presses himself against Geralt's chest, looking over the wall. "It really is stunning, isn't it? I mean, I guess you've seen it too many times and it's just normal to you now, but it's incredible."

Geralt pauses, waiting for something more, but Jaskier falls surprisingly silent. He tips his head, resting it against Geralt's shoulder and he sighs softly.

"Thank you," he whispers, "for bringing me here. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to bring a stranger home."

"You're not a stranger," Geralt blurts and as soon as he does, he regrets the words, but Jaskier will just ask anyway, so he clarifies, "they all know about you. The songs."

"Right," Jaskier hums, "the songs."

"You and Eskel seemed to get along well." Geralt spares a glance when Jaskier doesn't respond immediately and finds him red in the face. He should have known.

"It's fine," he says at the exact same time Jaskier says, "it's not what you think."

Geralt looks down at him and Jaskier squirms, out of his spot, leaning against the wall so he can face Geralt.

"Geralt, you weren't worried about it, were you?"

"No," he says too quickly. Jaskier huffs a quiet laugh and ducks his head.

"Oh my darling, you have nothing to be jealous of-"

"I'm not," Geralt insists, but Jaskier takes a step forward and looks up at him with those big, right eyes. Geralt can't even look at him.

"Promise me you won't get mad," Jaskier says, "Eskel was just saying how glad he is that I'm here... because you're always so sad over the winter."

"He- Eskel-" Geralt stammers and he can feel his own face burns.

"I thought you were happy coming up here to see your brothers?"

"I am," Geralt says and when he meets Jaskier's eyes, he realizes that's not going to be enough. "I miss you," he admits, staring firmly at the ground, "when I'm up here and you're away in Oxenfurt."

"Oh!" Jaskier gasps and it takes a moment for Geralt to realize Jaskier's attention has been redirected. He's not sure whether he should be relieved or offended, but then he looks up.

There's snow falling lightly around them, and Jaskier is enthralled by it. He's beautiful in his fascination, soft flakes landing his hair, and Geralt wants to keep this moment forever.

"I've never seen the snow like this," Jaskier breathes, "On the coast, it's so wet and heavy- it doesn't stick like this. It's beautiful."

When he looks out again, the valley is shrouded in a veil of white, the flakes falling too quickly and densely now to see much past the edges of the keep. It truly is beautiful, he thinks. Maybe Jaskier is right and he takes the views for granted or maybe it's just his presence that makes Geralt's romantic side come out. He doesn't think too much about that.

"Do you think about me?" Jaskier asks abruptly, "when you're tucked away up here for months? I think about you in Oxenfurt. What you're doing, whether you're safe up here, who keeps you company." He doesn't look like he expects a response, but Geralt tells him anyway.

"I do. Think about you." He reaches out, flicking a particularly large snowflake from Jaskier's fringe. "Almost every day. It's too quiet up here without you."

"Oh. Why didn't you ask me to come sooner."

"I... didn't think you'd want to. Didn't want you to say no."

"I would never say no to you, my darling. Not in a million years." Geralt offers up a half-smile, but he doesn't believe him. Evidently, Jaskier realizes this and closes the remaining distance between them.

"Listen," he says, "you're a grump and a grouch and you can pretend all you like, but I know you're soft under all this Witcher nonsense. I know you're sad when Ciri winters with Yen and I know you pretend to be this lone wolf, but really, you crave affection - even if you won't let me give it to you. But I'm here now and there's only so far you can go with the valley being snowed in as we speak.

"Geralt," he whispers, "I know you don't share my feelings, but don't pretend like you're oblivious. Stupid doesn't suit you."

"Your what-?" Geralt's mind reelings, afraid that he's misunderstood, but Jaskier is standing there before him looking so soft and sincere that he doesn't know how he could have.

"Geralt, what did I just-" he doesn't get to finish his sentence because Geralt acts before he can think too much about it. He runs his thumb over Jaskier's bottom lip, effectively silencing him, and for a moment he can't do anything but stare at him.

Jaskier's fingers slip around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away, and he slips up into Geralt's space, bumping their noses together. He hesitates only for a second before pushing forward and kissing him softly. Geralt's mind shuts down for a moment as he tries to register Jaskier's mouth against his own, but then he's kissing him back, arms slipping around Jaskier's waist like they belong there.

Jaskier lets out a little moan as Geralt deepens the kiss and he slips his arms around his neck, holding him close. It does something to him that he's not expecting and Geralt moves automatically, lifting Jaskier onto the wall and pressing in between his thighs.

He's wanted this for so long that he doesn't think and it's not until Jaskier pulls away to breathe that he realizes what he's doing.

"Sorry-" he starts, tugging backward, but Jaskier hauls him back.

"Don't you dare," he breathes, wrapping his legs around him and pulling him into another kiss.

Geralt lets himself be drawn in, wondering how the hell he managed to read things so wrong for so long. But as the snow continues to fall around them and Jaskier pulls him impossibly closer, he decides that it doesn't really matter anymore.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Change of Plans

winter prompts day 9 ❄️ snowed in/winter storm thanks to @in-love-with-writing002 for the idea! I’d like to do much more with it, but this is all my brain had time for tonight.

Everything starts with a question. One Jaskier suspects has been a long time coming.

They're sitting around the fire, Geralt sharpening his swords and Jaskier fumbling through the intro to his newest ballad. His fingers are too cold to be able to play it properly, but he's determined to get it finished so he can play it at the Solstice celebration in Oxenfurt this year. Last year Valdo had had a brand new song and Jaskier won't let himself be showed up again. So he plays through the cold and the numbness and Geralt's looks that are growing in frequency.

He hasn't said anything, so he can't be too upset about it, but the fifth time Jaskier restarts the song from the beginning, Geralt sighs and turns to him.

"It's getting cold," he says and Jaskier just looks at him. If he's only just noticing this, his Witcher senses must not be all they're cracked up to be.

"Yes," Jaskier agrees, a little sharply as he lifts his fingers to breathe some semblance of motion into them.

"I mean it's getting close to... that time of the year."

"Ah." That time of the year being when they separate for the winter. Jaskier doesn't like to think about it; he doesn't mind thinking ahead to his time in Oxenfurt and the celebrations, but the idea of leaving Geralt is rather unwelcome and he tries to avoid it as long as possible. Looking up at the sky, he sighs. He didn't think it was getting that cold.

"And I thought-"

Jaskier's eyes snap back down to Geralt's immediately and he struggles to control his heartbeat because he knows Geralt can hear it and he doesn't need him thinking he's jumping to conclusions, which he is. A little. But that's beside the point.

He doesn't dare say anything as Geralt looks straight ahead at the fire and fidgets with the rag in his hands.

"What I mean," Geralt corrects and Jaskier nearly crawls out of his skin in his impatience, "is that winter seems to be coming sooner this year and I should be heading north before the valley snows over."

"Right," Jaskier says, alarmed by his own breathlessness. But Geralt doesn't seem to be finished quite yet and when he glances up at him, Jaskier holds his breath.

"Would you- I mean- I thought it might be better if-" Geralt's fingers clench around the fabric in his hands and Jaskier wants to go to him, to assure him whatever he has to say is perfectly fine, but he can barely breathe in anticipation. He tries his best not to make assumptions, but he can't imagine what else would be this difficult for Geralt to ask. "Come with me?"

Jaskier's heart soars and it takes a lot more effort than he'd care to admit to keep from crying like a fool where he sits across from Geralt.

"Are you certain?" he asks. The last thing he wants to do is intrude on Geralt's family over the winter, especially if the invitation is somehow coerced.  Geralt gives a curt nod and his lips twitch at the corner and it's a miracle Jaskier's body doesn't just drop out from under him.

He could cry, scream, laugh, but he doesn't want Geralt to regret his decision, so he just smiles across at him.

"I would be honoured."

In the morning, they make a plan to set out a week from now. It's long enough to reach town and gather supplies and find a horse for Jaskier that's capable of making the journey through the valley. The closest city is Hagge, but travelling there would mean backtracking and wasting time they don't have to spare, so instead, they start north. Geralt promises him that there's a town north of Ard Carraigh where he and his brothers stop to stock up for the trip, and as long as they make it there, they'll be fine.

But because Jaskier's never travelled in the winter and because he's excited about going to Kaer Morhen for the first time, things, inevitably, are not fine.

They're only two days out when the blizzard hits in the middle of the day.

It starts as light snow, so neither Geralt nor Jaskier thinks much of it, but as the day progresses so does the storm until they can barely see a foot in front of their faces. Well, Jaskier can't but he suspects not even Witchers can see through snow. He pushes on as well as he can - Geralt already feels guilty for making him walk through the night - but by the time he can see light again, Jaskier's boots are soaked through and he can barely feel his toes. He doesn't complain because he doesn't want Geralt thinking he can't make the trip, but he knows he's slowing them down.

That night, Geralt finds shelter in a crumbling building that might have once been a watchtower. It's dark and it's cold and without a fire, the only thing they have to eat are the preserves at the bottom of their bags. But when  Geralt pulls him into his lap and wraps a blanket around the both of them, holding him close, Jaskier can't find much to complain about.

They reach the little town late the following night and Jaskier is dead on his feet, so he's relieved to find the innkeeper is quite friendly, if not familiar, with Geralt. For once, he takes a step back and lets Geralt organize lodgings for them while he struggles to keep his eyes open.

Eventually, Geralt leads him up to a room with a single bed and lets Jaskier drop onto it while he putters around the room, organizing their things.

"What are you doing?" Jaskier mumbles, already tugging a pillow under his head. His wet feet dangle over the edge of the bed and Geralt comes over to kneel next to him, tugging Jaskier's boots from his feet.

"We'll be here for at least a couple of days," he explains, "we might as well settle in."

"Thought we were going north? Up to the keep?"

"We are," Geralt assures him, "but we won't make it through the storm. We'll wait here until it passes and see what the valley is like then."

Jaskier doesn't like the sound of that one bit, but he's too tired to argue. Even when Geralt pulls him to his feet, he doesn't complain. He wavers slightly as he strips out of his wet clothes, but he can hardly be blamed when he's barely slept in the past few days. When he's stripped down to his braies and as dry as he's going to get, he slips back into bed, shuffling toward the wall to make space for Geralt. He falls asleep before Geralt even makes it to the bed.

In the morning, there is snow up to the windowsills and it still hasn't stopped snowing. Jaskier's spirits are dampened slightly, but he slips out of bed before Geralt wakes and orders breakfast to take back to the room in an attempt to cheer them both up. It works for a little while, but the snow picks up again in the afternoon.

By the third day, Jaskier has resigned himself to staying in this little no-name village over the winter. It's not Kaer Morhen with all its history or Oxenfurt with its lively parties, but he's here with Geralt and really that's all that matters. He is a little disappointed, but Geralt made the offer to take him north, so maybe they can revisit that next year.

That evening, Geralt goes down to discuss the room with the innkeeper and Jaskier takes the chance to look around a little. For a small town, the inn is particularly well-kept and there's even a small fireplace in their room with a stack of wood next to it. They have plenty of blankets and candles and even a few sparse decorations to brighten the place up a little. Jaskier would like to go out into the forest and make a wreath of his own, but he suspects Geralt would be against going out into the storm, so the decorations in place will have to do.

Maybe one year, he'll invite Geralt to Oxenfurt and show him a real celebration, but for this year, under the circumstances, the inn is fine.

Geralt returns after a short while, plopping down next to him on the bed.

"The innkeeper says we're welcome to stay as long as we like if you'll play for the other guests in the evenings."

"You know I'm always happy to entertain." Jaskier smiles but Geralt remains silent and his expression falls. "You'll miss them, won't you? Your brothers?"

"I don't see them every year," Geralt says but Jaskier knows he's dodging the question.

"What do you think they'll do then? Over the winter?"

"Eskel might already be up at the keep. He's sometimes early to help clear out the library. Lambert, I don't know. Last I heard he was travelling with someone, so maybe they'll spend the winter together."

Before he can think better of it, Jaskier reaches out, sliding his hand over Geralt's knee. Geralt's head jerks up to look at him, but he doesn't move.

"I'm sure they'll be fine, Geralt. I'm sure they're holed up somewhere nice and warm and nowhere near the storm." Geralt gives him a look of disbelief, but Jaskier just smiles encouragingly.

As it turns out, they're both right. His brothers are holed up somewhere nice and warm for the winter. Or they were until the farmer whose barn they were sleeping in decided he'd had quite enough of the noise. Which is how, in the middle of Jaskier's set one night, he finds himself choking on his own words as three grouchy Witchers pile into the inn.

Geralt is upstairs, but Jaskier would know them anywhere. It's fairly hard to mistake a Witcher. He knows only two of them are Geralt's brothers, but he assumes the third is the one he mentioned was travelling with Lambert. As soon as he sees them, he jumps from his makeshift stage and hurries over to them.

"Gentlemen!" He cries, "we've been worried about you. Thought you might be lost in the storm somewhere." The attention of the entire inn is on them as Jaskier beams up at the men. The bigger of the three - Eskel, he thinks, judging by the scar - gives him an odd look, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't tell me you're Geralt's bard?" he asks.

"I am!" Jaskier exclaims and a knowing look settles over the witchers. "Come in," he says and ushers them into the main room and down the hall.

It's not until Jaskier has all of them in the room and is looking between Geralt and the other three that he realizes he's made a very big mistake. Yes, he was looking forward to meeting the other Witchers and spending the winter with them, but he was also looking forward to having some time alone with just Geralt which is certainly not going to happen with three other Witchers sharing their room.

If nothing else, at least it will be an interesting winter.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Inimitable

winter prompts day 3  ❄️ cuddling by the fire

 Jaskier is still sitting in the chair in front of the fire. He was there before Geralt left just after supper and he's still sitting here now, the graveir dead and the sun long set. It's almost unheard of that Jaskier sits still for so long, but when Geralt pricks his ears he can hear Jaskier's heartbeat and his slow, steady breath. It's a little too measured for Geralt's liking, but there isn't much he can do about it right now.

Right now, he's covered in graveir gore and muck from the swamp and now that he's collected payment for the job, he needs to bathe before he can check in on Jaskier.

He calls for a bath and gets himself cleaned up before heading back downstairs to the public area and he's disheartened to find Jaskier hasn't moved an inch. Geralt slips up behind as quietly as he can and he's hit by the overwhelming scent of rotting fruit and salt. The combination can only mean one thing and Geralt's stomach clenches as he moves around the side of the chair. Jaskier glances at him and just his face confirms what Geralt already knows. His eyes are red and swollen and his cheeks are damp. He's been crying. Geralt reaches out to him, but-

"Fuck, Geralt-" Jaskier chokes, fumbling to wipe at his eyes. "What are you doing here?

"It's been hours," Geralt says gently. "Is- is everything alright?"

He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. No. Of course, everything isn't alright. He's known Jaskier for years and years and the only time he's seen him cry is when he was so drunk he jumped into a pond because the ducklings were too cute. This is very different than that.

"Oh, it's- it's fine, darling. Let's get to bed."

Geralt isn't sure which is worse. The way Jaskier tries to smooth over his own pain or the fact that he seems so disinclined to talk to Geralt about it. Not that he could really blame him. He isn't good at talking about things and Jaskier's whole life is words and how to work them. He's very much out of his depth, so his shoulders slump and he curses himself for not being better at this, but he lets Jaskier lead him back up to their room.

They go about the motions getting ready for bed, but Geralt feels like there's a pit in his stomach. Once they're alone, Jaskier does his best to pretend not to be hurting, but Geralt can smell it all over him, can feel the sadness wafting off of him.

Jaskier strips mechanically and Geralt aches to reach out to him, to pull him close and soothe the pain, but he doesn't know how. Because how could his touch do anything but cause further harm? He climbs into bed after him, careful to keep his distance and after a little while, the sadness lessens a little. Geralt is relieved until he realizes Jaskier is just asleep.

He doesn't know what time it is when he wakes, but Geralt is alone in the bed and it takes a moment until he's awake enough to realize there's a fire lit. He jumps out of bed abruptly, looking around until he spots Jaskier curled on the floor in front of the fire. If it's keeping him awake, it must be bad. Geralt sighs. There's nothing for it.

He pulls the blanket from the bed, padding across the room and sits behind Jaskier. He doesn't know what to do and he knows if he says anything, he'll likely make it worse, so he curls up on the floor behind him and pulls the blanket over them both.

"You should go back to bed. We have an early morning, remember?"

Geralt waits, but Jaskier makes no attempt to move away or to push him away so he stays. He wraps one arm around his shoulders and as he tugs him closer, there's a little choked off sob. Immediately, he releases his hold and draws back, and Jaskier curls in on himself, sniffling. His breath catches and Geralt hates himself for not knowing what to do.

He thinks back to any time Jaskier has comforted a frightened villager when Geralt hauls back his trophy for payment. He's seen him wrap himself around them, gently stroke their arms or hands or hair and he knows Jaskier isn't scared, but maybe it will help.

As cautiously as he can, he slips his arm back around him, fingers brushing against his arm until he can slip his own fingers between Jaskier's. He's barely touched him when Jaskier's fingers tighten around him and he squeezes. This is good, then. Without removing his hand, Geralt slips up close again, propping himself up on his elbow.

"You can," he takes a deep settling breath and leans lower, "you can tell me what's wrong. I know I'm not the best at these things, but- maybe I could help?"

"'S nothing, just stupid," Jaskier mumbles, but his voice is still unsteady and Geralt doesn't believe him.

"If it upsets you this much, it isn't stupid. You don't have to say, but you can trust me. You know you can trust me, right?"

"Yeah," Jaskier whispers.

Jaskier falls silent again, but he presses back against Geralt's chest, fingers still wrapped around his. It's not much, but Geralt is glad to be able to do anything and Jaskier settles a little against him.

Eventually, even Geralt settles, nose pressed into Jaskier's hair, thumb rubbing gently against his hand. His eyelids are heavy when Jaskier finally breaks his silence, but he props himself up again.

"It's just... do you ever feel like the other Witchers are better than you? Like it makes them better because they can, I don't know, run faster than you or something?"

"Eskel is much better at signs than I am," Geralt says softly. "Lambert is better at making bombs. Why?"

"Listen don't- don't make fun, okay?"

"I would never. What's wrong, Jask?"

"Valdo," Jaskier grumbles. "It's this new song." He takes a deep breath and Geralt waits for an outburst that never comes. "It's really good. And I've been- everything I've written lately is shit. I know I talk a lot of shit, but he's actually a very good songwriter and I-"

"You're doubting yourself," Geralt realizes and Jaskier just groans and buries his face in his arm. "He could never hope to compare," Geralt breathes and he doesn't know where the words came from, but he means them. "You have-" he shuts his eyes, forcing the words out. It's too much, too close to all the things he forces down and stops himself from saying. But Jaskier deserves to hear it.

"You have the most beautiful voice I've heard," Geralt admits, "and I like your songs. I sing them sometimes when we're apart. Even the coin one."

Jaskier turns in his arms, only releasing his hand when it's too awkward to hold any longer. He looks up at him with something like awe in his expression and Geralt smiles down at him.

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course."

"Geralt, I- what? I thought you hated my singing?"

"No."

"Then why-?"

"It doesn't matter right now," Geralt whispers, "but don't think for a moment that Valdo Marx could hope to achieve even half of what you do every day. He may write well, but that doesn't take away your talent, Jask. And you lie constantly, but your songs are based on real events - most of which you were present for."

Jaskier smiles at him, reaching a hand up to brush Geralt's cheek and he looks like he's about to cry again. Geralt doesn't know what he did wrong, he thought he was doing well.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly, "should I not-" Jaskier shakes his head immediately.

"That's not- no, that was perfect. I didn't realize you felt like that."

He feels so much more than that, but there's no good way to tell Jaskier all of that. Instead, he tips his head down, presses a hesitant kiss to Jaskier's forehead.

"You're a better songwriter than he'll ever be."

In an instant, Jaskier's arms are around his neck and he's pulling him down to him, kissing his lips. His lips are cold and salty from his tears, but Geralt couldn't pull away from him if he tried. He winds one arm around Jaskier's back, rolling him onto his back and deepening the kiss.

When Jaskier finally draws away, he's panting, but smiling and Geralt is so relieved to see him smile that he kisses him again.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispers, still holding Geralt's face in his hands.

"For what?"

"For listening. For caring."

Geralt doesn't know what to say, so he lays himself back down and draws Jaskier close to him. "Would you like to go back to bed?" Jaskier just smiles as his fingers slip around the back of Geralt's neck.

"Do you mind if- this is quite nice, actually."

Geralt nods and Jaskier presses forward, burying his face in Geralt's chest and readjusting the blankets over them both. He must be exhausted because he falls asleep quickly and in the silence, Geralt decides that maybe they could afford to spend an extra night in the inn if this is all it takes to make Jaskier happy again.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Kiss Me In The Dark

winter prompts day 13 ❄️ rosy cheeks thank you @writinglizards for the title 😘

 Geralt is used to Jaskier staring at him. At first, it was a nuisance, something that only served to ramp up his anxiety, but he's learned to deal with it. And now that he understands Jaskier a little better, he even enjoys it. He knows Jaskier doesn't have the same concerns about his body, and that when he stares it's because he's intrigued . It took a long time to come to terms with, and he would never admit it to his brothers under pain of death, but he likes when Jaskier leers at him, even if it is a little uncomfortable to have so much attention on him all the time. It makes him feel sexy in a way he never thought was possible.

But today, Geralt is the one staring.

Jaskier has taken to the chores at Kaer Morhen as if he's been doing them his whole life and by the looks of it, this morning's task was chopping wood. He's flushed from the cold, his cheeks and nose a vibrant shade of red that Geralt struggles to describe as anything other than adorable. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware that Jaskier is talking to him and that he should be paying attention, but he can't tear his focus away from the flush across his cheeks.

He's pulled abruptly from his thoughts as Jaskier shakes him by the shoulders and he's quick to correct himself.

"You aren't even listening," Jaskier accuses.

"Yes, I am."

"Then when?" Jaskier crosses his arms and looks expectantly at him.

"When what?"

"Was the last time someone kissed you," Jaskier sighs and Geralt hesitates. It's his own fault for not paying attention. If he'd been listening, he could have waved off the question as Jaskier being ridiculous, but now he feels like he owes him an answer.

"I don't know," he shrugs, hoping it will be enough, "the brothel before we come up here." Whatever response Geralt is expecting, it isn't a heavy sigh of defeat

"Of course," Jaskier mumbles and his shoulder slump, "even you've been kissed lately." Geralt's eyes widen and he feels like he's about to be berated for something, but he's not wholly sure what he's done wrong. Then he catches a whiff of bitterness and realizes Jaskier isn't upset with him he's just upset and Geralt doesn't know what to do about it.

Immediately, he wants to fix it, but he doesn't know how. He's not used to Jaskier being sullen and it hits a little harder considering how cheery he usually is.

"What about Eskel?" he offers, knowing the other Witcher is less inclined toward brothels.

"Same as you," Jaskier sighs and Geralt winces. Trust Eskel to visit a brothel the one time he needs him not to.

"Lambert?"

Jaskier looks up at him questioningly. "Has been fucking Aiden since the second they arrived. Geralt, don't tell me you're that dense."

It's not that he's dense, it's just that he's been... preoccupied since they arrived. But he certainly can't tell Jaskier he's been too busy watching after him to notice what Lambert and Aiden are or aren't doing. So he just, regretfully, suggests,

"Vesemir?"

"I didn't ask. It didn't seem respectful. But probably, at this rate." Jaskier sighs dramatically and slumps against the wall behind him. "Since when does no one want to kiss me?"

"Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "we're up in the middle of nowhere. You can hardly think this is about you."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my friend. It is about me. Even the last time I got laid, he just pressed me against the wall and-"

"Jaskier," Geralt bites. He immediately regrets being so harsh, but he can't bear to listen to him replay old encounters. Most of the time, he can hear them when it happens, the last thing he wants is to think about it again. "I get it," he adds a little softer.

"So what's wrong with me, then? Is that all I'm good for? A quick fuck?"

Geralt hesitates. Perhaps he made a mistake bringing Jaskier all the way up here for the winter. They'd talked about it a lot and Jaskier kept bringing it up, so he had thought it was a good idea. And he'd liked the thought of having Jaskier close by all winter, of not having to share his affections for months before they took to the Path once more. But now he's wondering if he shouldn't have taken Jaskier away from his admirers, from the business of Oxenfurt and all the potential lovers therein. Jaskier is the most confident person he knows and seeing him like this twists at something uncomfortable within him.

"It's not you," he says before he can think better of it. Jaskier's face brightens just a little and Geralt drops his gaze to the ground. "There's nothing wrong with you." It feels like he's pulling the words from his throat, but when he looks up at Jaskier again, he looks a little encouraged, so maybe it's worth it.

"Really?" he asks, barely masking the shock in his voice. If Jaskier doesn't believe him, that means it isn't too late to take it back, because his face feels as red as Jaskier's, but the little part of Jaskier that sounds hopeful is overwhelming. Geralt is the one who did that and he wants to do it again.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he mumbles, "it's them."

"You think so?"

"I'll prove it." The words are out of his mouth before he realizes he's saying them, so eager to cheer Jaskier up that he's inevitably digging himself into a deeper hole.

Jaskier looks up at him expectantly and Geralt realizes he has two options here. He can either back out completely and leave Jaskier feeling worse than he did, or he can kiss him. Shit.

It's not that he doesn't want to kiss him. If anything, he's spent so much time thinking about it that he's worried it won't stand up. And Jaskier has kissed so many people. So many people who have much more experience than he does. But Jaskier is just looking at him and the scent of sadness is still entwined with hopefulness and Geralt can't just leave him like this.

He takes a few steps forward until he's close enough that he can tip forward and kiss the tip of his nose. His heart is hammering against his chest and he feels like it might break through, but he follows through. And when he looks back at Jaskier to see the look in his eyes - soft and warm and something like relieved - he doesn't think before cupping Jaskier's face with one hand and leaning in to kiss him properly.

Jaskier lets out a little gasp as their lips collide, but he doesn't pull away and Geralt is encouraged. For just a moment, he's allowed to have this, so he puts everything into it, stroking Jaskier's cheek with his thumb as he crowds him up against the wall. It only lasts a moment, but in that time, his heartbeat settles though he's breathing hard when he pulls back.

"Oh," Jaskier whispers, and Geralt is relieved to find he's similarly breathless. "You're... very good at that." Geralt just huffs, but Jaskier reaches out, curling a hand in his shirt and fiddling with the fabric. "Perhaps you could... just once more?"

Geralt can't help the smile that spreads across his face and as he kisses him again, he winds his arms around Jaskier's waist, tugging him close again. This time, Jaskier hums against his mouth and when his arms wrap around his neck, Geralt sighs and sinks into it. It's overwhelming having Jaskier press against him, wrapped around him, and he has to be careful not to give away too much, but his body doesn't get the memo.

He doesn't realize he's lifting Jaskier off his feet until he's fulling in his arms, legs wrapped firmly around his waist. But Jaskier doesn't even acknowledge the change other than to hold him closer, so Geralt doesn't worry about it.

When he does pull back, Jaskier looks a little stunned, but he's smiling so Geralt considers that a good thing.

"You know," he says playfully, twirling a lock of Geralt's hair around his finger, "if you ever wanted to do this again, I wouldn't object."

"No?"

"Mmm, definitely not." Jaskier's eyes drop to Geralt's lips and he doesn't need any more encouragement than that.

"Good," Geralt breathes and without a second thought, he pulls him back again, kissing him deeply.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

A Change in Tradition

winter prompts day 4  ❄️ travelling home

Geralt is at a loss. He's lucky Jaskier talks enough for the both of them because he can't think of a word to say and it's been hours. Jaskier was the first one up this morning, barely after dawn, already packing and readying to leave. Geralt knows he's excited about this, and he's happy to have him with him, but Geralt is anxious.

For the last five years, they've been wintering in Kaer Morhen and it's comfortable like that. Eskel and Lambert still enjoy telling him embarrassing stories and Vesemir likes having someone who wants to listen to his stories (after years and years of hearing the same ones, the wolves just don't have the patience anymore.) It's been good. Jaskier gets along well with them and Geralt is relieved not to have to separate every year anymore. The winters were becoming unbearable, even after Jaskier had promised he wasn't going to go back to Oxenfurt and fall in love with someone else.

So Geralt likes going to Kaer Morhen. He's not so sure about Oxenfurt.

But Jaskier wants him to go and so rarely asks for anything big, so Geralt could hardly say no to him. And it's only fair that after Jaskier has met his family, he meets Jaskier's friends. Although, meeting Jaskier's friends is the main source of his anxiety about the whole trip.

In all his years, no human has ever taken to him like Jaskier. Most of them cower in fear or try to get him into bed out of some sexual curiosity, but few rarely stick around when he turns them down. Or when Jaskier shows up and makes it unmistakably clear that he's the only one who will be sharing Geralt's bed.

"What if I'm bored?" he asks. To Jaskier, it must come out of nowhere because he stops abruptly and turns back to look at him.

"Oh love," Jaskier smiles, taking Geralt's face in his hands, "I know you're not used to just relaxing, but it will be fine, I promise." He tips up to kiss his lips and slips away again, going on up ahead. Jaskier isn't known for breaking promises, but this is one Geralt doesn't think he'll be able to keep.

He keeps moving forward anyway, obediently following after Jaskier. He tries to think of what to do to occupy his time, a way to distract from the biting fear that everyone is going to hate him and Jaskier will realize after all that they're wrong for each other.

He could cook for him, he's good at that. Or patch up any damage to the house. Jaskier doesn't have animals, but Roach will still need tending to. As he runs through each option, his heartbeat picks up a little, clearly unconvinced. He doesn't know what he'll do without Jaskier, but maybe this is inevitable. Maybe losing him is just another way for destiny to fuck him.

Geralt doesn't realize he's stopped moving until Jaskier comes back to him, gently straightening him upright and cupping his cheek.

"Love, what's wrong?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Darling, you know it's much too late for worries like that. It's only a matter of days until the pass will be snowed in if it's not already. I thought you wanted to come with me this year?"

"I do." Geralt sighs, and it's hard to get the words out through a throat that feels like it's constricting. "But- What if your friends hate me?"

A soft little smile creeps onto Jaskier's face and Geral doesn't understand. "Geralt, darling, they already love you. They may never have met you, but they know so much about you. Did you think I just never told them anything? What did you think I did all those years when I couldn't touch you, hm? When I couldn't kiss you? I came home and talked to my friends about it. The only person who was happier than them about us getting together was me."

Geralt can feel his cheeks redden and he looks at the ground. "Maybe not just you."

"Of course not, my love." Jaskier lifts his head, bumping their foreheads together. "Is this what's been bothering you all this time?"

Geralt shrugs but he realizes he's been caught and there will be no getting out of this one.

"Geralt," Jaskier says softly, "don't you think I felt the same way the first time we went to Kaer Morhen together? Don't you think I was terrified that they'd all hate me?"

"No," Geralt says simply. It would never have occurred to him that Jaskier would feel like that. Jaskier slips a hand down to twine their fingers together and he smiles.

"Well, I was and it was fine. Better than." Geralt doesn't have the heart to tell him that they loved him because everyone loves him. Jaskier seems so earnest and eager to soothe, so he just nods. "We should get going though if we want to make it before nightfall." Jaskier steps forward, slipping his one hand from Geralt's face to curl his arm around his neck.

He kisses him softly and Geralt melts into it, pressing his body against Jaskier's. He's still worried, still doubtful that Jaskier's friends will be so accepting of a Witcher but if Jaskier did it for him, he can at least do the same.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

A Game of Kisses

winter prompts day 1 ❄️ mistletoe 

The first time it happens, Eskel happens to be close by and he's very glad that he is.

The look on Geralt's face is priceless when Jaskier tips his chin to look at the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the archway. He's flustered, confused, maybe a touch irritated - the look makes Eskel think he blames Jaskier for this - but then Jaskier takes his face in his hands and kisses him and Eskel has never seen a Witcher blush quite so furiously. He spends the rest of the day walking around, particularly pleased with him.

The second time, he has Lambert on his side because Lambert has to suffer through their sexual frustration as much as Eskel does and having an accomplice makes things easier. It also doubles the amount of mistletoe they can hang before Geralt and Jaskier come back from tending to the horses.

This time, Geralt is the one to initiate it, much to Jaskier's delight. Or so Lambert says. Vesemir had called Eskel away only moments before the event to come and help him find a specific old book they'd been talking about the night before. Eskel doesn't mind too much, the winter is long and he has a steady supply of mistletoe.

It goes on for a week before Geralt gets suspicious. He corners Lambert first, which Eskel hears all about while they're patching up the outer walls. He doesn’t think he deserves the blame when Lambert is always causing trouble, but Lambert disagrees. Then just after supper, when Eskel is heading down to the springs, he's unceremoniously hauled into an empty corridor.

"Is it you?" Geralt asks and Eskel just shrugs. He's thankful for their many years together stirring up shit because it makes it much easier to lie to Geralt now.

"What?"

"You know what."

"Geralt," he says calmly, "what are you going on about?" Geralt looks from side to side like he's checking for someone, then leans in to speak only to be interrupted by Lambert bursting into the hall to announce he's going fishing and demand to know where his bombs got put.

Eskel sighs as Geralt and Lambert break into a fight in the middle of the corridor. He waits patiently, but after the spat is resolved, Geralt seems less inclined to say whatever it was he was going to. He gives Eskel one final suspicious look before tromping off to do whatever it is he does when he disappears for hours. Eskel has considered asking Jaskier about it, but he's not entirely sure Geralt would tell him, either.

Things progress in mostly the same way for close to a month. Geralt's suspicion never lessens, though Eskel has overheard Jaskier telling him he's just being dramatic and not to worry so much. That has never once stopped Geralt, and it doesn't now, either.

But good things can only last for so long and Eskel eventually gets caught. He's woken up early this morning to prepare - hanging multiple sprigs in the hall so they're unavoidable. He's so, so careful as he passes by Geralt's room, but he must not be quiet enough.

There's a creak from inside and he winces, shoving the final sprig under his shirt as he plasters himself against the wall. But when a head peeks out the door, it's not Geralt. A smile spreads across Jaskier's face and he immediately turns to find Eskel where he's badly hidden behind the door.

"So it's you," he hums, coming around and stepping up into Eskel's space. "You've been doing this all along? Honestly, I would have suspected Lambert, but-" His eyes flick up to the spring that's been hastily tied to a chandelier.

Eskel opens his mouth to explain - or to lie, as the case may be - but Jaskier fists both hands in the front of his shirt and hauls him into the middle of the corridor, still eyeing the mistletoe. Eskel must look less than assured because as Jaskier's eyes meet his again, the smirk on his face only grows.

"Darling, if this is what you wanted, you only had to ask."

Jaskier kisses him before he can either confirm or deny his intentions and Eskel is expecting it to be quick and then over, but Jaskier lingers. And Eskel shouldn't even think about it because he knows how Geralt feels about the bard and Geralt is right on the other side of the wall, but.

Jaskier's lips are soft and they move with experience, sending little shudders up Eskel's spine and oh, he had forgotten what it felt like to be kissed like this. A hand rests on the side of his neck and Eskel goes limp under the touch, letting himself sink into it as Jaskier's tongue teases at his lips. It's very nice and when Jaskier moans against him, he feels it all the way down to his toes.

But it doesn't make sense. He's seen Jaskier and Geralt kiss over and over in the past couple of months and it was never like this. And Eskel isn't an idiot, he knows the difference between romantic and platonic love - and there is no way Geralt and Jaskier are just very good friends.

He's about to ask (he is; he certainly wouldn't take advantage of his own game to continue kissing Jaskier) when Geralt stumbles out of his room, rumpled and bleary. Just as he does, Jaskier draws away. He's flushed a pretty shade of pink and Eskel can't keep his eyes off his lips.

"Geralt!" Jaskier beams, "it turns out you were right all along." Geralt lifts an eyebrow at him but says nothing. Eskel looks between the two of them, finally pulling his gaze from Jaskier's mouth. "Although, I think you were wrong about his intentions."

"Meaning?" Geralt mumbles through a yawn. Jaskier turns to look at Eskel again, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"I think he wanted us to kiss, dear."

Up until now, Eskel was (mostly) keeping up with the conversation, but he's lost now. If they didn't think that's what he was aiming for, what did they think?

"I don't know," Geralt smirks, "it certainly seemed like he was enjoying kissing you." His eyes flick up to meet Eskel's and Eskel realizes two things with startling clarity.

Firstly, Geralt and Jaskier didn't need anyone's help getting together.

And secondly, they've been playing him.

"And how could I resist?" Jaskier hums, turning from Geralt back to Eskel as he slides a hand up his chest. "Don't you think he's looking particularly lovely this morning?"

"He is," Geralt confirms and Eskel can feel his eyes raking over him. "You know he always is."

"How long?" Eskel chokes.

"Sorry, darling?" Jaskier's fingers slip up against his neck and Eskel pulls back.

"How long have you been together?"

"A while," Geralt shrugs. Eskel frowns at him.

"I hate you," he mumbles and Geralt grins at him as Jaskier's fingers slip between his own.

"That's all well and good, love, but it's so early. Don't you think you'd rather hate us in a nice, warm bed?" Eskel's eyes must be as wide as they feel because Jaskier chuckles softly. "Oh, don't think we played along for your benefit," he hums, slipping up close again.

"No?"

"Mm, no. I had other plans entirely."

"Like what?" Eskel asks, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Why don't you come to bed and we'll show you."

Eskel's eyes snap up to meet his, then he looks to Geralt and finds him watching expectantly. When Jaskier takes his other hand and gives a little tug, Eskel lets himself be led.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Surprise Attack

winter prompts day 8 ❄️ tracks in the snow

 He knows he heard Jaskier head off in this direction. The footprints are the right size and no one who knows the keep would head this way to hide; behind the keep, there's nothing but forest for miles. All the hills and valleys are to the east. And besides, a Witcher would hide their tracks. Not that Geralt bothers to as he follows the footprints north.

Geralt spots him long before Jaskier would see him and he crouches low, watching as Jaskier looks from side to side. Evidently, he's realizing he chose the wrong direction and Geralt takes advantage of his frustration, sneaking closer while Jaskier is occupied.

The first chance he gets, he jumps up and tackles him to the ground, thoroughly pleased with himself as Jaskier squirms and curses at him. When he finally settles, Jaskier turns onto his back, scowling up at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Found you," Geralt grins, dipping down and tipping Jaskier's chin up with his nose. He kisses the soft skin, shutting his eyes and inhaling Jaskier's scent.

"You weren't even supposed to be looking." He pauses for a moment then pushes at Geralt's shoulders to look at him. "How did you find me? I went in the opposite direction as everyone else." He's frowning and for decades Geralt would have refused to acknowledge that he's cute when he's angry. Now, he just grins at him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Followed your tracks."

Jaskier huffs, but Geralt doesn't pull away and when he reaches the tender skin at Jaskier's throat, Jaskier's breath catches and he knows he's won.

"Let me up," Jaskier mumbles, but he shudders as Geralt's teeth graze his skin and makes no attempt to move. When Geralt's lips find his again, Jaskier sinks into it with a resigned groan, hands slipping up to the back of Geralt's head.

Geralt kisses him slow and deep, making up for the time they've lost since arriving. It feels like it's been one thing after another. Introductions. Showing Ciri around. Training. Repairs. Geralt's looking forward to the first big storm when they can all just sit and wait it out.

Jaskier only breaks the kiss to breathe and he's panting when he does, smiling lazily up at him. Geralt runs a thumb over his cheek, wondering how he got so lucky.

"Are you enjoying it here?" he asks and Jaskier's grin spreads and he tugs Geralt back into another kiss.

"Mm, very much."

"I mean at the keep," Geralt frowns. Jaskier rolls his eyes fondly, cupping Geralt's face in one hand.

"Of course, I am, love."

"Good." Geralt drops onto one elbow, pressing Jaskier into the snow as he kisses him again. Beneath him, Jaskier squirms, giggling as Geralt pins him down. When he finally does, relent and he rises up again, Jaskier's looking at him slyly.

"What?"

"It's just that, as much as I'm loving this, my darling, it appears that everyone else is occupied and there's a whole big castle over there just waiting for us." He quirks an eyebrow at him and Geralt tugs him into his arms, lifting him as he rises to his feet.

"Geralt!" Jaskier laughs, "I can walk on my own."

"Who knows how long they'll be," Geralt hums, "wouldn't want you to slow us down."

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

winter prompts day 12 ❄️ snow fort

If someone had asked Jaskier what he expected to be doing at Kaer Morhen over the winter, hide and seek wouldn't have even made the list. But, as it turns out, the Witchers are all very fond of the game. In fact, Jaskier is learning that the sharp teeth and surely attitude are just a cover that slips away when they reach their winter home. Underneath, the facade are a bunch of big idiots and Jaskier loves them dearly for it.

Only now he's out in the snow trying to find somewhere to hide so he can prove that he can, in fact, beat them at hide-and-seek. It was okay until a little while ago - he and Ciri had spent the afternoon building a snow fort - but now it's snowing heavily and while it helps to cover his tracks, it also makes it hard for him to see where the others have been. He's pretty sure he doubled back on himself, which is not at all what he intended, but the shadow of the keep seems closer now than before. At least it means the others are probably further away, back toward the forest, and he has a chance to find a good spot and hide.

Just as he spots a tree he might be able to climb into, he's accosted from behind. A hand slips over his mouth and a warm body presses up against him. It should probably be more worrying than it is that his body just goes limp, instinctively sinking into the unconventional embrace.

It only takes him a second to realize the body pressed against him belongs to Geralt and he turns in his arms to scold him for cheating, but he's met with a soft grin and he just sighs.

"I've been trying to get you alone all day," Geralt hums. He lifts Jaskier's arms around his neck and dips to kiss him softly. Jaskier's heart thuds against his chest, still unused to the casual intimacy.

"You could have just asked."

Jaskier pushes his fingers into Geralt's hair and draws him close again, nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him soundly. Geralt groans against his lips and Jaskier deepens the kiss, the game long forgotten.

He's not sure how long they stand like that before Geralt's hands slip from his sides, but then they're on his hips, slipping down over his ass and Jaskier can hardly be blamed for the way he rocks into it. It's been a few weeks since this thing started with Geralt, just before he asked him to come to Kaer Morhen, and they're still adjusting. Jaskier is ready and willing for anything, but there are still times when Geralt is hesitant and sex is one of those things.

Jaskier has been patient. He's been understanding. Hell, he's even tried to stay out of the way enough for Geralt to do whatever he needs to on his own. And he doesn't mind any of it; he'd be willing to give up a hell of a lot more than just that to be able to have Geralt like this. But having gone weeks without any sort of relief makes it hard now not to just pull Geralt down into the snow and rut against him.

Before he can do that, or anything else he might wind up regretting, Jaskier pulls away and presses his palms to Geralt's chest, holding him at arm's length. He's panting and he aches to curl his fingers in Geralt's jacket and pull him back against him, but this is unprecedented and he doesn't want to push. When he looks up at Geralt though, there's nothing but want in his eyes and Jaskier nearly whimpers at the way Geralt looks at him.

"Is this- I mean, are you sure?"

In response, Geralt takes his hands and sets them on his own hips, pressing in close again to kiss Jaskier's jaw. He barely speaks, but when Geralt draws him close again, he makes certain Jaskier knows exactly how badly he wants this.

Geralt's hands slip down to his ass, guiding the roll of his hips and Jaskier moans against his mouth as Geralt's cock slides against his own. His hands slip up Geralt's back and he rocks forward again and Geralt freezes under his touch.

Jaskier moves to draw back immediately, but Geralt holds him close, only breaking their kiss to look back over his shoulder.

"Someone's coming," is all he says before they're moving and Jaskier is still trying to figure out what's happening when Geralt takes his hand and ushers him away.

Jaskier's not sure what he's running from - or toward - but Geralt is smiling softly when he looks up at him and he realizes he doesn't really care. Not, at least, until they stumble upon the snow fort from earlier in the day and Geralt immediately drops to his knees to crawl into it. Jaskier just stands and looks at him until Geralt cocks his head to one side and gestures for him to follow. Against his better judgement, he does.

The fort had seemed much larger when he was sharing it with a thirteen-year-old girl instead of a full-grown Witcher, but Geralt just tugs him into his lap like it's nothing. His hands are warm and teasing and it takes Jaskier exactly zero seconds to forget that they're hiding.

He drops his head back onto Geralt's shoulder, mouthing at his neck and the way Geralt rumbles at him only encourages him. Then Geralt's hand drops to his thigh, sliding down between them, and Jaskier gasps.

"Shh," Geralt whispers, "you'll have to be quieter than that unless you want them to hear you."

Jaskier whines but then Geralt's palm slides over him and as he bites down on his bottom lip, he decides he can stand to be silent for a little while.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

The Warmth of a Witcher

winter prompts day 6 ❄️ hypothermia

"Fuck," Eskel mutters, "where the hell are you, Geralt?"

He wraps himself a little tighter around Jaskier. He's a little better than he was, but still not fully responsive and Eskel doesn't know what to do. If Geralt doesn't get back soon, Eskel will have to carry him back to the keep and it's a long way on foot - especially in the snow. And he needs to get Jaskier out of his wet He's never the life of someone so important in his hands - not since he was young and unable to understand the full weight of something like this.

But Geralt had told him to stay put, to keep Jaskier warm and comfortable while he went back after Roach. They'd tethered the horses a few miles back when the snow got too deep for them, but it feels like much further now that time isn't on their side. After a few more moments' consideration, Eskel decides he can't wait any longer.

As well as he can with Jaskier in his arms, he tugs his cloak off, wrapping it around Jaskier's shoulders as he tugs Jaskier's doublet and shirt off over his head. With half-numb fingers, he undoes his own gambeson, pulling Jaskier's cold body against his own. It's a shock, but he's more concerned about just how fucking cold Jaskier feels.

Eskel rises to his feet, readjusting Jaskier in his arms so that the cloak covers him as much as possible and he wonders how Geralt can bear it. Nine months of the year, Geralt hunts with Jaskier at his side. Jaskier, the most curious, oblivious human Eskel's ever laid eyes on and he doesn't know how Geralt can cope with how fragile he is.

He has to be careful as he follows Geralt's tracks in the snow, not to hold him too tightly, but the adrenaline rushing through him screams to squeeze him tight, not to let him go. But humans break so easily so he has to force himself to be gentle, moving as quickly as he can.

When he catches up with Geralt, he's already reached the horses and is in the process of undoing Roach's reins when he spots them. Geralt's eyes narrow in concern and Eskel hurries over to him.

"He's okay, I just- I didn't want to wait any longer." Geralt nods. He understands.

They don't speak all the way back to the keep and Eskel doesn't know how or why Geralt doesn't insist on taking Jaskier back, but he's thankful for it. He can't imagine the terror running through Geralt right now. They've travelled together for decades; Jaskier has only been in Eskel's life for a few, short years, but the thought of anything happening to him makes his blood run cold.

The keep is quiet, but they burst in and Geralt goes ahead up to the room they've been sharing. When Eskel meets him there, there's the beginnings of a fire in the hearth and Geralt is laying furs out in front of it. He looks up when Eskel comes in and gestures for him to sit. Even by the minimal warmth of the fire, Eskel is much more comfortable letting Jaskier go and between the two of them, they peel his wet clothes off and strip down themselves. As Eskel readjusts Jaskier's body in his lap, Geralt finds the biggest blanket he can, shuffling up close to wrap it around all of them.

After a few moments, Jaskier stirs and Geralt and Eskel let out a joint sigh of relief. Eskel tips his head forward, pressing a kiss into Jaskier's still-damp hair and Jaskir shifts under him.

"'s going on?" he slurs. He pulls away and Eskel is loathe to let him go, but he loosens his hold as Jaskier straightens up a little. "Why's it so cold?"

"Idiot," Geralt mumbles softly, but the softness bleeds through and he pulls Jaskier against him. "You fell through thin ice while we were tracking."

"I... don't remember."

"It's okay," Geralt breathes, "do you want anything?" Jaskier shakes his head and settles back against Eskel's chest, tucking himself under his chin.

"Just cold."

Geralt's eyes flick up to Eskel's for a moment, still tinged with worry and Eskel wants to ease that hurt from him, but he knows the only way to do that is to ensure Jaskier is okay. He wraps him up as Geralt pulls away, running one hand up and down his back.

"I'll make tea," Geralt says and Jaskier shuffles slightly, mumbling a quiet request for his favourite.

Eskel watches as Geralt rises to his feet dressed only in his braies, and he lets his eyes wander, earning him an affectionate blow to the shoulder as he passes.

"It'll be okay," Eskel says, unsure who of the three of them he's trying to reassure. As Geralt's footsteps disappear down the hall, Jaskier pulls away a little, looking up at Eskel.

"Is he mad?" he breathes and Eskel's heart breaks. Geralt is closed off to a fault, but he'd thought Jaskier at least would know how to tell the difference between anger and worry. "He always does this when I do stupid things."

"He's not mad," Eskel soothes, slipping a hand up into Jaskier's hair, "he's worried. And this wasn't your fault. It could have been any of us, so don't feel guilty about that." Jaskier presses his face back into his chest and huffs, but Eskel knows that's an affirmation.

It doesn't take long to warm Jaskier enough that he doesn't have to be coddled, but Eskel finds it hard to let him go nonetheless. He spreads his legs, pulling Jaskier between them with the blanket laid out over his lap. Jaskier insists he doesn't need to be cared for, but it doesn't stop him from leaning into every touch and humming as Eskel presses kisses along his shoulders.

He lets his hands wander over Jaskier's body, relieved to find warmth returning to his skin, and revelling in the softness beneath his hands. Jaskier leans against him, humming against his neck and nosing under his jaw, soft little groans slipping from his lips as he squirms. He's soft and warm and Eskel doesn't think much of it until Jaskier moans softly, his legs spreading under Eskel's touch. He pulls back and Jaskier groans in frustration.

"That was nice," he breathes, "why did you stop?"

"Jask, you're-" Eskel really shouldn't have to explain that he almost died earlier. He doesn't want to even think about it, but it's still too fresh a wound to ignore so blatantly.

"Fine now, love," Jaskier finishes, rolling his head against Eskel's shoulder. "Thanks to you." He kisses Eskel's neck, nosing just under his ear and Eskel had forgotten how persuasive he can be when he wants something.

"And Geralt."

"Mm and Geralt." Jaskier shudders against him as Eskel's hand slips low down his stomach and he groans against his neck. "Where is Geralt anyway?"

"Give him a minute," Eskel breathes, running a hand up Jaskier's thigh, "we almost lost you today."

Geralt returns a few minutes later and by the time he steps into the room, Eskel's hot enough to bring anyone back from the brink of death. Jaskier has one arm slung back around his neck kissing him earnestly and it takes Geralt clearing his throat to catch his attention.

Geralt lifts an eyebrow at him as he sets three mugs down next to Eskel. "I told you to keep him warm, not turn him on."

Eskel just gives a low groan as Jaskier presses back against his cock. He's been trying so hard not to let Jaskier's squirming affect him, but they've been separated for months.

"I don't know why," Jaskier hums, lifting his gaze to meet Geralt's. "How am I supposed to just sit here when Eskel is so warm and lovely?"

"Alright, it's time to get you into bed," Geralt huffs, bending low to take Jaskier's hands and help him to his feet.

Eskel tries not to stare, but it's hard when Jaskier's fully nude, his cock jutting obscenely out in front of him. Jaskier pins Geralt against the wall, pressing his lips to his neck and Eskel knows how hard Geralt has to try to resist him, but eventually, the worry wins out and he presses Jaskier back, guiding him toward the bed. Geralt casts a look back over his shoulder and Eskel suddenly feels very exposed without Jaskier to cover his own arousal.

He picks the mugs up and sets them all on the table next to the bed. Jaskier grumbles about it, but once he's in bed with the blankets pulled up over him, he takes his tea without complaint, sipping it as Gerlt frets over him.

When Jaskier is finished, Geralt takes his mug from him and settles into the mattress, pulling Jaskier down against him and tugging him closer. He shuts his eyes and Eskel can feel the odd combination of relief and terror wafting off of him. Ignoring his own mug, he tugs the blankets up, shuffling up to curl around Jaskier's back.

Eskel has barely closed his eyes when he hears Geralt's voice, chiding, "Jaskier." There's a smug hum followed by a shuddering breath and it doesn't take a genius to realize what Jaskier's doing.

"You should rest," Geralt insists, but there's no (vindication) behind it. Jaskier shifts back, pressing against Eskel's crotch as he reaches down again. Geralt groans and Jaskier mumbles against his neck, softly encouraging him. Not that it takes much encouragement to get Geralt on board once there's a hand wrapped around his cock.

Jaskier rolls his head back, kissing the underside of Eskel's jaw and effectively pulling him forward. He rolls his hips back, grinding against his aching cock and Eskel nearly whines as his hips twitch forward to meet him.

"Please," Jaskier breathes and who is Eskel to say no to that?