Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (Completed)

Half Way House

Jaskier admired his new coat with a grin and swept his hands down across the red leather. He had decided, quite out of the blue, that if he were the consort of a Witcher he had to look the part, not like a lost noble who was following Geralt like a lost puppy. When they had passed through a small town Jaskier had announced his intention for a makeover and Geralt had rolled his eyes and grumbled. He'd expected a clean cut, new shining boots and some stupid flamboyant puffy jacket, but he was pleasantly surprised.  He obviously kept his opinion entirely to himself, but he did sneak in a quick grin when Jaskier emerged; he'd retained his stubble, boots were sturdy and road-worn, trousers plain and tight fitting, clean white shirt unlaced around the neck so that dark hairs were visible from the collar, and as a finishing touch, a more Jaskier-ish red waistcoat and leather overcoat that swept to his ankles and gave him a rugged highwayman look while still being flamboyant enough to mark him out as an artist.  
"Thoughts?" Jaskier gave a twirl and grinned goofily. Geralt grunted noncommittally and tugged Roach onward. He knew of a travellers lodge nearer the mountains that would be their halfway point, and he was fairly sure they had a local medic on call. He needed one desperately. He gritted his teeth against the pain and refused to admit it to Jaskier, but it was only growing worse. Once they reached the end of town, the Bard swung himself up onto Roach's back without asking - he'd grown a little less wary of Geralt turning on him suddenly - and set his back against the Witcher again, as they had done many times over the past month travelling. He was sure they had to be getting there soon, but Geralt never really told him much.
As the sun was lowering gradually, Jaskier adjusted on the saddle so that he might bring his lute around and beginning singing, but a hiss cut him short. It had come from Geralt, and the second he'd made the noise he'd stiffened as if it was involuntary and now he was worried Jaskier would notice-
"You fucking moron!" The bard yelled, realising what was going on suddenly. "You said you were fine!" He continued on in this half angry half anxious way until they reached the inn and the Witcher grabbed him by the waist and kissed him so he would shut up.
"Don't think that fixes things you great big lug." He snapped, but it was half-hearted as Geralt had slipped his hand under the Bard's coat and surreptitiously grabbed his ass. Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just get some fucking help." 

And to be fair, he did. The moment they stepped into the lodgings, he asked for the medic or doctor on staff while Jaskier dumped their bags in a room. Once he was thoroughly bandaged and drinking some sort of elixir for the pain, he joined Jaskier in bed, wincing as he tried to adjust comfortably. 
"Stop your damn tossing and turning would you, it shakes the whole fucking bed." Jaskier played at being annoyed but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. Every time the two shared his bed he felt as though he couldn't believe it was real. This Witcher was his.
"Fine." Geralt grumbled, splaying himself across the bed, head and shoulders on Jaskier's chest, long legs taking up most of the room. He smirked to himself as the Bard huffed under his weight. "Yeah, comfy."
"Fuck you, comfy my ass. You're so difficult." Jaskier grumbled, trying to get comfortable in this new position. There was still a smile on his lips though, and as Geralt caught a glimpse of those love marks on his body that still hadn't faded - unlike his own, due to his Witcher healing - he smirked. This Bard was his.