Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (Completed)

Brothers

Jaskier and Geralt dressed quickly after their morning encounter with Lambert, carefully avoiding catching each other's gaze. Geralt was secretly pleased about how it had gone down, it was better than all the awkward stepping around the subject, and he could tell Vesemir had caught on immediately so he would have been waiting for Geralt to own up.
"Jas, just uh- just try to ignore them." Geralt said as he buttoned up his shirt half of the way and tied back those white locks. They were beginning to knot and hang lankly across his face, Jaskier wondered if he ever brushed it, and he would have to get the Witcher in a bath ASAP. The bard was currently to busy opening and closing his mouth in shock at the nickname to even acknowledge what had been said. "Did you hear me?" Geralt snapped.
"Yes- yeah, I will uh- I can hold my own Geralt. Words are my lifework."
"No, songs are your lifework. That and annoying me." He grumbled. Jaskier grinned playfully and smacked his shoulder as if he was annoyed. They stepped out into the corridor and Jaskier took in a breath as they began to walk side by side, close enough that their hands grazed. He had left his coat in the room but tied his shirt up higher so as to not give the Witcher's fuel to mock he or Geralt - the red territory marks were still not faded around his neck and collar. There were six of them in the hall when Jaskier and Geralt finally entered. One Jaskier recognised from the rude awakening but had no name for, ginger unruly hair and beard over pasty white skin, and then of course Vesemir. The other four who had been lounging around and talking loudly suddenly stiffened and fell silent. 
"Geralt!" Coen was the first to step up and embrace Geralt with a huge smile, as if he'd not even noticed Jaskier's presence. Then he did. "Who's the dandy?" He laughed, but Geralt's jaw clenched as he swallowed back anger and choice phrases.
"Julian Alf-" Jaskier stuck his hand out with a freindly smile but he was rudely interrupted.
"Jaskier." Geralt said. Coen didn't take the extended hand and the eyes of the other Witcher's narrowed sinisterly. "Bard." He said, as if it explained everything.
"I left my lute in the room. Wasn't sure you were the right audience for my work, I might be getting all the wrong messages but you seem like you'd rather slam your heads into brick walls that listen to- Oh hey look Geralt he has the same scary face as you." Jaskier had been rambling as he often did, the words just coming out before he thought about them, and Coen's face had grown grave in the time. He stepped behind Geralt a little, thinking the stranger might swing at him if he didn't shut up. He tended to have that effect.
"Jas this is Coen, Lambert, Everard, Gwain and Merek." He read them off left to right and Jaskier tried desperately to put the names to faces, he felt they would not necessarily appreciate being misnamed, but again he was distracted by the 'Jas'. It felt so intimate for the Witcher to have chosen a name for him. 
"Is this is the surprise then? Entertainment? If I remember rightly, this place was sort of meant to be a secret?" Everard sighed, ripping off a chuck of bread and chewing thoughtfully. Lambert laughed, Vesemir gave him a warning look.
"Oh, it's much better. Our brother here," He stepped up and threw an arm around Geralt. "has got himself quite attached to the Bard. Found them cosying up in bed this morning, naked as the day were born, which probably wasn't that long ago in the Bard's case - he's practically a boy. Geralt turned pink as a whore's thighs when I caught them." He was still laughing. Geralt rolled his eyes and grunted something Jaskier imagined to be offensive. Four faces froze in chock and Everard choked on his bread. 
"I don't remember being all that bothered actually. But the rest was right." Geralt said casually, grabbing a bowl of not very appetising soup and sitting down at on the nearest bench, facing the other Witcher's with a stare that challenged a negative reaction. "Surprise." He said it with such boredom and dry wit that Jaskier snorted a laugh.