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„Geralt?“
Jaskier’s whisper was so quiet the crackling sound of the fire almost drowned out his voice, so when the witcher didn’t reply, he wasn’t sure if it was because he was asleep or because he didn’t hear him. So he tried again, a bit louder this time.
“Geralt? Are you awake?”
Again, no response, so he probably really was asleep. Or he was ignoring him. The thought of that made Jaskier frown.
Slowly, he turned around on the thin sleeping mat that wasn’t really much of use, he could still feel every little stone and branch beneath it. But he was used to it by now, travelling with Geralt for so many months now. What he wasn’t used to was the cold that was creeping through his clothes and not even the fire managed to banish.
Geralt didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold, of course not, he was used to it. He looked warm.
So Jaskier did the only thing that seemed reasonable. Instead of laying down closer to the fire he got up and dragged his sleeping mat closer to Geralt, laid it down next to him and himself on it, his back facing Geralt. For now. As a precaution, he didn’t want to wake him up. (Okay, no be honest he just didn’t know if Geralt was up to some cuddles, he was almost certain he would not be amused and-)
“Jaskier.”
Geralts voice rumbled so low in his chest that Jaskier could feel Geralts back vibrating against his own, as they were touching (he was indeed very warm).
The poet bit his lip, trying to pretend to be asleep, a ridiculous thing to do, knowing that Geralt was fully aware that he’d just dragged almost his entire belongings half across their camp.
But Geralt didn’t say anything further, Jaskier could just feel him bringing more distance between them again so their backs were no longer touching. Immediately, Jaskier missed the warmth of Geralt’s body, the cold ait hitting him again, sending shivers down his spine.
“Geralt, I’m cold!”, the man whined dramatically, which was just answered by another monotonous hum coming from the witcher.
“You know, I for myself don’t have a … a wall of muscles protecting me from the cold”, he muttered as he tried to bring his body as close to Geralt’s as possible without them touching, but so close that he would be able to absorb at least a little bit of the warmth from him.
And I wouldn’t mind if you would provide said wall of muscles that I’m missing, he added silently.
Geralt rolled his eyes internally, trying not to pay attention to the utterly dramatic behavior of the bard. But he had noticed his shivering body even before he’d laid down right beside him. And he felt sorry for him, because thinking about it Jaskier maybe wasn’t overly dramatic this time.
“But of course, just let me freeze here in the deep and dark of a damn … direful forest, with barely any fire because oh no then monsters could notice us. Gods I would-“
“Come here.”
Jaskier stopped his monologue mid-sentence and looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had been so caught up in his rant that he hadn’t noticed that Geralt had turned around and was patting the ground next to him.
“What?”
Geralt sighed and couldn’t help but smile slightly.
“You said you’re cold. And I’d like to get some sleep, which is impossible with either you talking to yourself the entire night or shivering”, Geralt explained the obvious. “So come here. I’ll keep you warm.”
How did he know Jaskier was shi- ah, witcher senses. Of Course.
Jaskier looked at him as if Geralt had revealed himself to be a doppler.
“Are you sure?”, he asked, but slowly, almost hesitantly he laid down right next to him, looking at him as if every moment Geralt could turn into a nekker and bite his head off.
“Just shut up and go back to sleep, bard”, Geralt murmured as he wrapped an arm around Jaskiers cold body, pulling him closer.
And surprisingly, Jaskier immediately relaxed there in Geralt’s arms. Even though he was still convinced he was dreaming, but Geralt’s firm and warm body and his hot breath on the cold skin of his neck proved the opposite.
Jaskier smiled to himself as he happily nuzzled up against Geralt, who just tightened his grip around the bard and buried his nose into the crook of his neck.
Well well, who would’ve thought that? Geralt of Rivia was a cuddler.
Now this was almost worth a ballad. Almost only. Some moments were precious, too precious for mankind, some moments just had to be tucked away and cherished privately.
This was such a moment.