FIC: Petals and Pining, (3/12)

[roughentumble]

Title: Petals and Pining
Pairing: Geraskier
Total word count: 49,992
Entry word count: 3,716
Summary: Hanahaki!Geralt AU
Title suggested by @/yappingjaskier on Tumblr
Bonus tags: Hanahaki, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn
AO3 Link: archiveofourown.org/works/22904086/
[1] . [2] . =3= .  [4] .  [5] .  [6] .  [7] .  [8] .  [9] .  [10] .  [11] .  [12]

The next morning, Jaskier wants to leave immediately, still in a huff over the town's treatment of Geralt, but the witcher makes sure to stop by the notice board and scan over it, looking for any contracts he could pick up.

"It'd serve them right, I say!" Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the board as if it had a hand in cutting short his meal, instead of simply being a slightly rotted pile of wood, sorely in need of repairs.

"It's my job." Geralt replies without looking at him, eyeing one notice that warns of creatures in a southern field, but doesn't make mention of a reward. "Need to get paid."

"As if we'd be able to recoup our loses in this shithole. They're going to underpay you, you know."

"And they deserve to die for that?" He rips the notice off anyway, folding it and tucking it away, mind made up to at least talk to someone about the problem.

"Well, no," Jaskier admits, "but you've turned down plenty of jobs from assholes. What makes this one so different, hm?"

He pauses, eyes roaming the board for any other notices that could promise coin. After a moment, he murmurs, "There are kids in the village."

There's a beat of silence, and then Jaskier bumps their shoulders together, smiling up at Geralt affectionately. "You big softie." Geralt makes a noncommittal hum and Jaskier laughs, bumps into his shoulder again. "There are children in every village, you know that, right?"

Geralt makes another noncommittal sound, shrugging. "Not all villages. But yes, most do have at least one or two running around." He turns and begins to walk in the direction of the village ealdorman, hoping he could provide clarification, and possibly some coin for his services.

It's still early, the sun just barely over the horizon. Dew drips from damp grass onto cold soil, the last vestiges of night chill clinging to the air. Not enough for the morning to be classified as cold, but enough that it has Jaskier leaning in just a touch closer, savoring the easy body heat rolling off his travel companion as they walk in comfortable silence. Geralt lets him without comment.

Poorly hidden behind the corner of a house up ahead is the crouched figure of a child. Couldn't be older than ten-- although Geralt isn't the best at judging human ages, finds it easier with griffins and the like. Her little skirts are rucked up in her hands, most likely a poor attempt at keeping them clean as she huddles in the dirt, trying to stay out of sight. Her face bears a portrait of fear and intrigue with the openness only a child can achieve. She creeps closer, one chubby hand dropping her skirt to clutch at the wall in front of her, craning her neck to watch the two of them a little longer as they pass by.

Geralt ducks his head, trying to avoid scaring her any further, but he can see from the corner of his eye that she just studies them closer, curiosity piqued.

"Well, hello there!" Jaskier must've noticed the child as well. He stops walking and bends at the waist, hands on his knees, to get closer down to the girl's level. "Lovely morning, isn't it?" The girl squeaks and scurries behind the house, now that she's been caught, and Jaskier laughs lightly. "It's alright, you can come out and talk, if you'd like. We don't bite, I promise."

He is suddenly, intensely aware of how this looks. Two men-- one of them a witcher-- talking to a child, alone, in the wee hours of the morning. Trying to coax her into conversation. A deep sense of foreboding zips up and down Geralt's spine. He grabs Jaskier by the elbow and tugs gently. "C'mon, we should get going." He says quietly.

Jaskier shrugs him off, apparently unaware of how bad this could be if literally anyone caught them. "Come on now, darling," he calls, and her head appears again, edging around the side of the house. It seems her curiosity is winning out. Geralt's on high-alert, eyes scanning the streets for anyone who might see and misunderstand. "That's it," he says, "come say hello."

Geralt says his name sharply and tugs one last time on his arm before the little girl makes up her mind and runs up to the two of them, skirt twisted in her hands again. Maybe a nervous habit as well, then. "Now then," Jaskier is all smiles, still bent over to talk to her somewhat eye-to-eye, "how's your morning been?"

She takes a deep breath and summons her courage to say, rather loudly, "M'name's Janey. Why're your eyes that way?" She bypasses Jaskier entirely, gaze locked on Geralt. Despite the bluntness of her question, and the way it makes Jaskier sputter, there isn't any cruelty behind it. Just simple curiosity.

With one final glance around to make sure there was no one else on the street-- and confirming it was, indeed, as empty as it had been a moment ago-- Geralt crouches down. He moves slowly, so as not to frighten the girl, and she watches him go, seemingly transfixed. Once he's on her level, he speaks quietly, further efforts to avoid startling. "I'm a witcher." He explains. "You might've also heard your parents call me a hexer."

She chews on her lip. "They called you that, yeah. They says, they says hexers steal kids an' eat 'em. You ever done that?"

Jaskier inhales sharply beside him, but Geralt maintains her gaze. "No," he says, "I don't do that."

That seems to satisfy her, which it shouldn't, since no one would admit to such a thing, even if they were eating children, but before he can say as such, she's back on the subject of his eyes again. "They're like kitty eyes."

Jaskier snorts, but Geralt just nods patiently. "Yes, they are."

"Can they, um," she makes a reverse pinching motion with her fingers, "do the, the kitty eye thing?" He cocks his head at her in confusion, and she elaborates. "Where they get all big at night. Can you make your eyes all big?"

"It's not night, and it's not a party trick." He says bluntly, and her face falls a little. "But,"

Before he can finish, her face lights back up, and excitedly she starts pleading, "Please, oh please, please show me!" She bounces on her toes eagerly.

A smile flickers across his face and he nods. "Just... give me a moment." Slowly, Geralt brings his hands up, poised in front of his face. "I have to make it dark." He gives one more glance-- still empty, still just them-- before placing his palms over his eyes.

In actuality, he could simply force his pupils to open wider, but that sort of thing tends to put people on edge. Behind the relative darkness of his hands, he can feel his pupils begin to expand, and he focuses on keeping them that way as he slides his hands back down.

It's too bright with his eyes like that, letting in so much light, but Janey gasps in delight when she sees them. "They're so big!" She exclaims, marveling. He nods in acknowledgement, and she grins wide, showing off a gap in her teeth. "Thanks, hexer!" With that, it seems her curiosity is sated, and she turns and runs off with glee. Apparently his eyes were all that had captured her interest.

Jaskier laughs, straightening up and waving at her retreating back. "Lovely meeting you, Janey!" He calls, and she turns around long enough to wave rather enthusiastically, with her entire shoulder, before scurrying off. "Certainly one way to start your day." He comments, smiling down at Geralt.

"Hm."

He rolls his eyes fondly at the lack of response. Geralt's eyes are still fixed on the place where Janey had disappeared around a corner, seemingly lost in thought. "That was nice, what you did for her." He says quietly.

Geralt shrugs. "She was a child." He says it as if that explains everything. Maybe it does.

"Yeah, but you still didn't have to." His tone turns teasing as he nudges Geralt's side. "You're a nice guy, and a big ole' softie." He sing-songs, and Geralt shakes his head, standing back up.

"C'mon. I want to check out this notice before the day's over."


------


The ealdorman is, unsurprisingly, not very cooperative. It takes the better part of an afternoon to get him to agree to a price that isn't insultingly, astronomically low, and that's after some convincing that he should pay to get rid of the monsters at all. Jaskier is, by turns, irate and bored and then back to irate again over the prolonged encounter, but Geralt simply ignores him and continues to haggle, and eventually Jaskier settles back to tune his lute in the corner. Not that his efforts aren't appreciated, as he did try to step in on Geralt's behalf a few times, but keeping the contract open and the other party from throwing you out of town tended to be a delicate business, and one Geralt was well versed in.

He gets an answer as to what sort of monster to look out for, too. Not that the ealdorman knows their name, but the description leaves practically no room for other interpretations-- small, live in groups, burrowing, about the size and shape of a child. Nekkers.

The field, when they arrive, is idyllic and green, with little holes and mounds as further evidence of a Nekker infestation. It's right on the edge of the woods, as well. Lovely little spot, if not for the way you could easily get killed in it, currently.

It's a small infestation, anyway. Barely takes him any time at all. Even Jaskier looks bored from the sidelines. He flushes out some of the tunnel systems, but they're devoid of movement. Jaskier wanders over, places his hands on his hips. "Well, that was rather anticlimactic. I don't think even I could make that into a song worth listening to."

Geralt thinks of little Janey, able to play in this field now. The monsters vanquished, the sky cloudless and blue. Something about clearing the way for the laughter of children, maybe. "Hm."

Then he thinks of how she'd have to pick her way past corpses to do it. He wonders, briefly, if she'd still look at him with such fascination if she could see him now, Nekker blood dripping from his gloves. Maybe you couldn't spin the story positively after all.


------


The ealdorman pays them, and they leave town. They don't see Janey again.

Geralt thinks that's probably for the best.


------


"So, Mister Kitty Eyes," Jaskier says, grinning up at Geralt, "where are we off to next?"

Geralt grunts at the nickname, looking annoyed. "Watch yourself, bard."

Jaskier laughs. "Oh hush, I'm only teasing. Now, c'mon, don't leave me in suspense."

"East."

"Oh, well," Jaskier rolls his eyes as he strolls next to Roach, "that's so very descriptive. Thank you again for your continued eloquence."

"Anytime." Geralt says mildly, just to hear Jaskier scoff. "Shouldn't take more than a week or so to get there." A teasing smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he gives a sidelong glance to his on-foot companion. "...Maybe a little longer."

Jaskier squawks indignantly. "Hey!"


------


After about four days of travel, Jaskier becomes desperate for a good bath. He complains about it nearly incessantly; his feet are sore, his clothes are damp with sweat, he feels grimy, he feels sticky. So, after setting up camp, when Geralt sets out to find fresh water to refill their waterskins, he decides to take Jaskier with him. He assumes that, if nothing else, they'd find enough water for Jaskier to splash on his face.

Instead they find a miniature waterfall.

The water is crystal clear, falling down in perfect little cascades, enough force behind it to kick up a light misting around the edges, but not so powerful as to knock you over. Not quite tall enough to stand under, unless you only wanted the water on your shoulders, but one could sit under it with ease.

The stones underneath the waterfall were all large, but worn smooth by the current, with shallow divots perfect for sitting in.

The moss on the side of the river was lush, nearly velvety from the damp, misty air.

The trees above provided ample cover, so any sunlight streaming down was dappled and soft.

A gentle breeze rolled past every so often, bringing with it the sounds of the forest and birdsong.

All in all, Geralt didn't trust it one bit.

Too damn picturesque, he'd said when they found it, but Jaskier was insistent. "Running water, so there won't be drowners, yes?" Geralt grunted. "Too small for sirens, too shallow for selkies." Geralt grunted again, unwilling to truly concede yet.

While he'd never say as much, internally he had to grudgingly admit that he was impressed by Jaskier's knowledge. It was all rather basic, but it showed he'd been paying attention, listening when Geralt spoke. He felt a little warm, some small part of him pleased that Jaskier had bothered, touched that he'd held the bard's attention.

Dammit. Stupid feelings.

"And besides!" he continues, grabbing Geralt's wrist to pull him forward. Geralt doesn't move. "We both know that I'm going to complain all night if I don't get a bath. And this is, quite literally, the perfect spot!"

"Exactly. Too perfect."

"Too--?" Jaskier looks incredulous. "You're a piece of work, Geralt, honestly." He tugs again, more firmly this time. "We're not going to get a better opportunity than this. You're really going to look a gift horse in the mouth? And also, what's the point of wandering in nature if you can't appreciate its natural splendor!" He throws his arms out when he says this, indicating the clearing.

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. They both know what's coming. Jaskier's eyes glint mischievously, in that way they always do when he knows he's won, and Geralt tilts his head back to study the underside of the canopy instead. "...Fine." He grits out. "Quickly."

Jaskier cheers and claps excitedly. "Oh, I just knew you'd see it my way." He starts peeling himself out of his clothes right away, laying his nice doublet on a nearby stone. "C'mon, shuck the armor already. I'll even wash your hair for you, since I'm so kind."

Geralt shakes his head, averts his gaze. "You first."

"First?" He pauses, chemise rucked up to his armpits. "What do you mean, first?"

"We'll bathe in shifts. Safer." He doesn't include that his thought process is that if something attacks Jaskier while he's exposed, he can defend the bard. Then, once he's bathing, if anything attacks, Jaskier could use the opportunity to run away. Somehow, Geralt thinks that plan wouldn't go over so well.

"Aren't we here longer, though? If you'd just bathe now, we could leave sooner."

"There are pros and cons to both methods." He also, secretly, doesn't know how he'd handle both of them naked at once, considering his current... emotion-y state. No, safer to just take turns.

"And you've decided there are more pros to shifts, then, hmm?" He sounds unimpressed. Geralt 'hm's right back. Jaskier laughs a little, shakes his head, sounding fond and exasperated all at once. "Whatever makes you comfortable."


------


When Jaskier first steps into the water, he yelps, jumping back slightly, and Geralt's gaze snaps to him in concern. "Well, I finally realized what's keeping it from being perfect. It's bloody freezing!"

Geralt rolls his eyes and turns away as his heartbeat settles back into a normal rate. "Just get in the damn water, Jaskier."

He scoffs. "Bossy."


------


It takes a few minutes, but Jaskier finally adjusts to the water temperature, it seems. He sighs blissfully, scooting under the waterfall and tilting his head back so it can run through his hair. "Oh, Geralt," he says, each word a little breathy, "this is divine. Have you ever sat under a waterfall before?"

He wishes Jaskier would stop talking to him and just get on with it already. His eyes flick over when he hears talking, and he has to drag his gaze away. "Yes."

"You have?" He looks intrigued, leaning out of the flow a bit so he can hear Geralt better. "Was it anything like this one?"

"Bigger." His bare chest is right there. Geralt has to force himself to stare straight ahead. "I was diving for something. For a contract."

Jaskier makes an understanding sound. "Ah, so you didn't really sit under it, then."

"I was under it, what's the difference?" Geralt scans the trees for movement, determined not to look at Jaskier.

"There's a world of difference! One is simply your body getting battered by the elements while you fight to survive, whereas this would be relaxing and luxurious--"

"I don't need luxury. Now would you hurry up and get clean? It's all you've talked about these past days." He speaks through gritted teeth, fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms.

"Fine, fine. So snippy." Jaskier relents, begins bathing in earnest, but of course he continues talking. "You really are on edge, aren't you? What're you worried will pop out of the water, hm?"

Oh. Oh no. This is so much worse. Jaskier, wet and slick and literally rubbing himself down. What was his question? He thinks, mind gone slightly hazy. Right, "Anything. Everything." Does his voice sound strained, or is his mind playing tricks on him?

That starts Jaskier on a tangent about Geralt's hyper-vigilance, which thankfully he can tune out as he continues to act as the stalwart protector. Gives him a moment to center himself. He keeps his eyes open, keeps scanning the woods. But then he feels his eyes straying, and-- just to make sure he's still there, still safe he tells himself-- his gaze lands on Jaskier. Guilt gnaws at Geralt, but he finds that he can't look away.

Jaskier is lounging back as he lets the gentle but insistent water spill over his neck and shoulders, running in rivulets down his chest. His hair is soaked, mussed up and plastered to his forehead, his neck, the sides of his face. A pleased sigh slips from between his lips as he reaches up, letting the water's course divert to wrap around his arms instead. His hands grasp at the rocks above his head that the water tumbles over, rubbing over it just to feel the texture. Exploring simply for the sake of it, lazily indulging in his tactile whims. He lets out a little groan, tips his head further to one side so the water hits a particularly sore spot on his shoulder.

He paints quite the pretty picture, spread out under the water like that, eyes closed in bliss, little damp curls sticking to his cheeks.

Geralt can't look away.

It's wrong, he knows it's wrong, he knows that if Jaskier was aware of his desire, the bard would be curling up and covering himself, but... he's just so beautiful. So open and inviting and lovely, and suddenly he wants so intensely his heartbeat is like a drum pounding in his ears, and his thoughts are a blur of Jaskier, Jaskier, Jaskier. His body takes a single step forward without his permission, desperation running through his veins like a wild animal. Jaskier cracks open one eye at the sound, and suddenly Geralt's lungs are so full. It's too much, too much, and he doubles over, petals and buds and half-opened blossoms tumbling over his lips.

Jaskier's eyes are fully open now, and he starts to move, concern painted across his face. "Are you alright? We can--"

"Just a coughing fit," he manages, sounding only mostly strained. "Happens. Keep bathing." Jaskier looks unconvinced, but after a moment he relents and slides back under the waterfall.

As he wheezes into his hand, kneeling on the supple moss, he finds himself rather grateful for the flowers, for once. They may be the reason he's in this mess at all, but they acted as an important reminder, and at the exact moment he needed one. Trust the universe to always know when he needs to be put in his place.

He scoops up the flowers and shoves them into his pocket without thinking. If Jaskier sees him do it, he doesn't comment on it.

He doesn't look back at Jaskier for the rest of the excursion, and once it's his turn in the water, he scrubs down with a harsh, single-minded efficiency.

Needless to say, Jaskier doesn't wash his hair this time.


------


"You know, sometimes things are just nice." He says it so gently, looking at Geralt with such sadness in his eyes. "I know why you're so cautious. And I do appreciate how hard you work to look out for the both of us, try to keep us safe. But... you can just have a nice time, sometimes. Let your guard down a little. You don't need to live in panic mode."

"Yes. I do." He sets his jaw and meets Jaskier's gaze.

Jaskier is unrelenting, though. He waves his hand almost dismissively, steps in a little closer. "Yes, yes, dangerous life of a witcher and all that. I know. But... maybe just... not on high alert, then? Still keep an eye out, still watch for danger, but... not everything is an emergency."

Geralt looks away. Doesn't know how to say if anything ever happened to you, and I'd been "relaxing", I'd never forgive myself. Doesn't know how to show him how important he is. Doesn't know how to make him understand how easy it would be to lose him in an instant, at any moment, without bringing even more sadness into those bright, blue eyes. So instead he grunts in assent, and Jaskier lights up, brushes some imaginary dust off Geralt's shoulder.

"There, see? Not so hard, is it? Admitting your dearest friend Jaskier is right sometimes." His eyes are dancing with mirth and affection, and Geralt looks away again. It's too much. He's too close. It's too much.

He grunts again, and Jaskier's responding laugh is everything.