Try, Please Try For Me

Closer

There's a shift in their dynamic after the drowner contract.

Both Geralt and Jaskier are more accepting of this thing between them, this companionship, agreement, romance-- whatever you want to call it, and Geralt can admit it has its perks. For one, he can finally kiss Jaskier when he wants to, and it is fan-fucking-tastic.

Admittedly, Jaskier is the one that usually initiates it-- Geralt still holds himself back, wanting to respect the imaginary boundaries that he's crafted for himself, despite the bard's best efforts to hack at them with a metaphorical axe. A metaphorical axe in the form of affection.

Jaskier, well, he's very open about his feelings, and likes to show it. He'll wake up in the mornings and go straight from bed to greeting Geralt with a chaste kiss, sometimes offering lingering a touch or caress along the witcher's back or the palm of his hand. When they're on the road and Jaskier is not playing his lute or complaining about how much his feet hurt, he lets their hands brush together, laces their fingers, squeezes lightly, and rubs his thumb in gentle circles along Geralt's knuckles.

The casual way that Jaskier approaches it is enough to make the witcher blush.

One time Geralt offers a hand to help Jaskier onto Roach, and the bard kisses the back of it, gazing at him through batting eyelashes and his stomach flips.

It's like Jaskier craves touch at all hours of the day. And though it takes Geralt a bit to become accustomed to how touchy feely his companion is, he really really likes it. He's too shy to admit it out loud, but Jaskier seems to understand without the need for words.

He calls Geralt "darling" or "dear" or "my lovely wolf" and all these other sweet things that no one has ever called him before and he doesn't know how to respond to. For instance, there's one occasion where they're sitting in a field for some respite from walking and Jaskier weaves a crown of wildflowers then places it atop Geralt's head, kisses him on the cheek, calling him "my precious witcher."

It feels somewhat ridiculous, a flower crown is not something he should be wearing and "precious" is definitely not a word that someone should be using to describe him. But the action gives Geralt a little floaty feeling in his chest and he keeps the crown on his head for the rest of the day.

Jaskier puts his first song on hold, focusing all his attention into his new repertoire, spreading the good deeds of all witchers. He lets Geralt be the first to hear each one, performing them at night by the campfire and taking any feedback from the witcher on how he can best represent his adventures. Whatever Geralt suggests is, of course, still taken with a grain of salt-- Jaskier opts for theatrics over accuracy.

Spring fades into summer, and the weather becomes sweltering hot.

They've been on-route to Vizima for two weeks now and are about a day's walk from arriving-- or at least they would be if Jaskier would actually agree to do any walking today. They managed to cover a decent amount of ground early in the morning when the air was still relatively cool, but as midday approached the heat of the sun was, as Jaskier claimed, "trying to bake them like a potato." So when they stumble across a river at the edge of the woods and Jaskier gives a squeal of excitement, Geralt can't help but agree to stop for a while so his bard can indulge in a swim.

He untacks Roach so that she can rest up a bit and nibble on some grass, and watches with mild amusement as Jaskier drops his things in a heap on the ground and immediately begins stripping down to his smalls. The bard wades into the river until he's waist deep in water, then ducks under, emerging with a contented sigh.

"Are you sure you don't want to come for a swim, Geralt?" He calls, laying back to float like a starfish. "It's really nice."

"I'm fine," he calls back, "someone needs to keep watch. Go ahead and enjoy yourself, lark."