Whoreson Prison Blues

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"Out of nowhere, you send word to meet you. All this time I thought you were dead." Came a jovial voice from around the corner. The meeting place seemed to be some sort of wine celler, and Geralt had instructed Jaskier to stay hidden behind the barrels while he spoke to Moussack. As usual, the Bard didn't like taking orders, but he begrudgingly did as he was told, his hand resting on the long dagger in his belt- it had been a gift from Geralt after his training with Lambert, and though he was no Witcher at least now he could defend himself.
"I told you the last time I was in Cintra I wasn't coming back" Geralt grumbled, stepping out from behind a corner to face Moussack, trying to put the thought of Jaskier's safety to the back of his mind. It was always this way, despite him proving repeatedly that he could survive anything.
"Yet here you are." The mage smiled with open arms. Geralt grunted softly and continued: "Why? You've come for you're child of surprise haven't you."
"I've come to offer protection, that is all." Geralt said, remembering Jaskier's words and what he'd seen on the way to Cintra. "Nilfgaard is coming, i saw them camping at the Amell Pass, a sea of black and gold."
Jaskier tuned out of their conversation, turning to the shadows when he thought he heard something. He shook his head when he thought he'd imagined it, but then the balde flew out of the darkness and landed with a thunk in the barrel inches from his head.
"FUCK, Geralt!" He cried, leaping out from his hiding place and to Geralt's side, taking vague notice of Moussack's surprise and confusion at his presence.
"She sent assassins?!" The Witcher growled, hand going to the blade on his back. Then he thought of Jaskier; it was one thing to put himself in danger, but not his bard.
"I swear I knew nothing of this." Geralt rushed the mage and put a dagger to his throat, feeling Jaskier's hand grip firmly onto his armour.
"Get us out of here, now, or you die with us." Moussack waited until the very last moment, perhaps thinking Geralt was bluffing, before he portalled them all away. Jaskier retched up against the wall, batting away Geralt's attention when he tried to help. He would never stop hating portal travel.
"What's the bard doing still following you around after all these years?" He heard Moussack ask in a whisper as he heaved up bile, his stomach churning. 
"We are companions." Geralt said, as if it explained everything, and in some ways it did. Jaskier had noticed that this seemed to be the word they had chosen over the years, for what they had, but even then it wasn't quite right, it felt more like a marriage.

Jaskier sat in the dark cell and debated which was worse, the portal or the cell. And to make it worse, the guard had taken his lute along with Geralt's swords. So much for offering help. 
"Fucking rude if you ask me." Jaskier mumbled, scratching at his stubble and leaning on the stone behind him. "You were only-"
"She thinks i'm here to take her daughter away. Can you really blame her?" Geralt sighed, tilting his head back against the stones and watching Jaskier with hooded eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Is that concern I hear? How sweet." The bard laughed but Geralt continued waiting for an answer. "I'm fine, it's just portals-" He shuddered as if to get his point across.
It wasn't long before Jaskier started muttering song lyrics to himself, then came the humming, then finally the singing. Geralt would be lying if he said he hated it, it passed the time at least. Once the song was complete and had been sung heartily five of six times to annoy the guard, Jaskier moved on to better distractions: Geralt.
"Jaskier what are you-" Geralt started as Jaskier crawled over, a ribbon between his teeth and an intense look of concentration on his face.
"Hold still." He said, plucking the ribbon from his teeth and kneeling behind Geralt - who had been doing a meditation of sorts in the centre of the room.
"I will not be-" Geralt tried to squirm away when he realised what the ribbon was for, though where the hell Jaskier had gotten it, he had no idea. He was a bard of many mystery's.
"I said hold still." He said, his tone holding a surprising amount of force. The Witcher knew how much he hated being bored, so he caved, sinking to floor from his knees so that Jaskier was at a better height to reach his hair.
His fingers lacing through Geralt's hair was surprisingly relaxing and he closed his eyes into the feeling, letting himself relaxing for a moment or two while the Bard plaited a section and pulled the braid back into his usual half-up ponytail. Jaskier sat back to admire his work with a grin and an eyebrow wiggle.
"Sexy."

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