You (Sweet) Oaf

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" Jaskier asked. It was a simple question, thoughtless. It was instinctive to ask.

"What?" Geralt asked. That was a rather intimate action, and Geralt found it quite uncalled for.

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" Jaskier repeated with more emphasis from where he sat. Geralt continued to look bewildered from the tub.

Geralt's brows knit together as he grumbled, "Why would you want to?"

"I'm asking if you want me to. Not the other way around, Geralt."

"I wouldn't mind."

Jaskier chuckled before moving to stand and make his way to Geralt. He sighed to himself before beginning to monologue as he began to lather Geralt's hair.

"That's the best I'm going to get out of you isn't it? Geralt of Rivia, the stoic, quiet man at every noble party. You know, some of us have to get invited because we're talented or have connections, not just because royals want to soften us up, but you get invited to every event just to see if someone can wipe that scowl off your face."

Geralt made a small 'hmm' noise. He was, as he could hardly admit to himself, quite enjoying the calming care from Jaskier. Jaskier's fingers worked soothing circles into his scalp while the soap pulled the long-built-up grime from the roots of his hair. He hardly even listened to Jaskier's words. He assumed they were probably something he'd get annoyed with on a normal occasion.

"Ah, no reaction out of you huh? Are you just that comfortable you big oaf? When was the last time you had someone wash your hair?" Jaskier teased. He thought he was rather funny and took it upon himself to laugh at his own jests when Geralt did not.

"I never have."

Jaskier reeled trying to digest that information, his fingers stopped as he stared down at Geralt. "You what?" Geralt's only reply was a small grumble. He subtly pressed his head into Jaskier's palms like an impatient cat aiming for attention.

"Geralt of Rivia, you astound me."