The Witcher (One shots)

Arent we scared?

(Geralt x Yennefer)

Ciri doesn’t take all that long to fall asleep: it’s hardly surprising, considering the rhythm that they have been travelling at, the emotional exhaustion and the fact that she hasn’t had the chance to sleep on a bed since when they left Kaer Morhen. She seemed so small and content, when she curled up on her side and let Geralt pull the blanket up to her chin as he tucked her in, and Yennefer can’t help being grateful that they decided to stop at a inn.

They had no rooms for three, so they figured they’d make do with a double, with only two twin beds. That one would go to Ciri was to be expected, but probably so was Geralt wishing her a goodnight and setting up his bedroll on the floor between the two beds.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share with her, not when the space is so small and things are still so tense between them—it feels like he’s trying to always keep a modicum of maddening distance between them, avoiding her touch, even the accidental ones that are bound to happen when living so closely together, being so civil and yet not as warm as he’s always been around her—he hardly ever calls her ‘Yen’ anymore. When it happens, she thinks it’s because he slips.

Still, maybe there was a part of her that hoped the comfort of a bed would be too alluring to resist.

She wishes he had at least tried to bargain for it, trying to cast her away on the floor as a form of punishment, because at least that way she could have argued with him, she could have insisted that he invited her to travel with them, so it’s time that he stops treating her like she should be thankful for every scrap he throws her way—but no, he isn’t even giving her an excuse to defend herself. He simply took his love for her out of the equation, and he’s treating her like he would anybody else.

She hates it with burning passion, though it probably isn’t undeserved.

It’s clear enough that he isn’t asleep, with the way he keeps shifting, looking for a comfortable position that he definitely isn’t going to find. She doesn’t think he’s still sporting bruises or injuries from the fight in Kaer Morhen, but he has been hunting food, training Ciri, taking the longest turns of night watch because he said he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, and travelling itself gets you tired and sore. So, really, he’s just as in need of a comfortable bed as they are, if not more.

She sighs, turning on her side to lean in his direction, even though she still can’t make out his face. “Geralt,” she calls, careful to keep the volume down as to not wake Ciri. He stills and he doesn’t answer, which prompts her to roll her eyes. “I know you are awake.”

“What is it?” he asks then, after only a few moments. He doesn’t sound annoyed, but he does sound fairly tired.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor,” she states, though once it’s out it seems like a stupid thing to say.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

He’s frustrating enough that she might just fucking do that. It would serve him right: if he wants to be all noble, then what business is it of hers? They are clearly only within spitting distance of each other because of Ciri, so it doesn’t matter if Yennefer lets him suffer the night on the floor or not. She should take advantage of his hero complex and get a good night’s sleep.

“I could share with Ciri,” she offers instead, reflexively glancing at her. She’s probably tired enough that she wouldn’t even notice. “We are smaller, we can fit more easily.”

“No,” he says, because of course he does. He still sounds like he really needs to sleep. “She should be comfortable for once.”

That’s true, but there’s a little egotistical part of her that can’t help wondering if the reason why he’s refusing that offer is simply that he doesn’t trust her to be so close to his child when she’s in such a vulnerable state. She wonders then if perhaps the reason why he didn’t want her to take the floor is that he’s now placed himself between the two of them.