Try, Please Try For Me

Together Again

"I swear if it gets any colder my fingers are going to fall off," Jaskier groans as they walk, rubbing his hands together.

"You refused to buy gloves in town," Geralt reminds him.

"It was a necessary sacrifice!" Jaskier insists. "Your contract got us enough for a room and dinner or extra gloves. Forgive me for not wanting to sleep out in the cold another night. Besides, I can't play my lute with gloves on anyway."

Geralt snorts. "You can't play with frozen fingers either."

"Alas, it is a horrible truth I must succumb to." Jaskier rubs his hands together again, breathing hot puffs of air in hopes of warming them. "I miss summer," he adds with a grumble.

Four months passed during their time in Faerie, and in that time the newly welcomed summer had completely passed them by, leaving Geralt and Jaskier, penniless and shivering in the late autumn weather.

First frost has already set, which means they need to get to Kaer Morhen sooner than later or else the pass will be blocked with snow. Regardless, it's doubtful they'll be able to survive a trek up the frozen mountain if Jaskier is whining this much about the cold before it's even snowed.

"Come here," Geralt says with a sigh, taking one of Jaskier's icy hands between his own.

"Wha-- oh-- that's nice." Geralt clutches Jaskier's fingers between the palms of his hands, rubbing them until they've regained feeling, then moves on to the next one while Jaskier sighs with relief.

"How the fuck are you still so warm?" the bard whines.

Geralt shrugs. "I run hot."

Jaskier gives a sly smile, blinking lazily as his eyes rake over Geralt's body. "Hmmm, you sure do."

The witcher just snorts and rolls his eyes, continuing his task of warming Jaskier's hands. "Is this what life with you is to be now? Incessant flirting?"

"Darling, I'm always flirting with you. If you haven't noticed up until this point, then I'm afraid you're not as observant a witcher as you claim to be."

"Oh I've noticed," Geralt replies. "It's just that if I respond too often it'll go to your head and you'll start spouting even more ridiculous things."

Jaskier gasps in mock offense. "Well, I suppose I'll just stop altogether if it bothers you so!"

He turns, placing a limp hand on his brow, as if Geralt has offended his honor. He holds the pose a few moments for dramatic effect then glances back at Gerat to find the witcher with a fond smile on his face. "Hmmm, what is it?"

"I missed you," Geralt says.

For him Jaskier was hardly gone a few hours, but the bard hadn't quite been the same after waking from his injury. He'd been close to normal up until recently, but some of that fire that Geralt has come to love had been absent.

It's good to see him act like his old self again.

Jaskier gently brings their intertwined hands up to his lips, and brushes a kiss along the witcher's knuckles. "And I you," he replies. Then he tugs Geralt a little closer and leans up to kiss his lips.

Geralt hums in contentment and kisses back, moving one of his warm hands to cup Jaskier's face as the bard deepens the kiss. Jaskier's lips are slightly chilled, but not unpleasant. It would take a great deal more than that to make kissing someone as skilled as Jaskier unpleasant.

He grips Geralt around the waist, nudging him so that their bodies are pressed flush against each other and Geralt takes note of the fact that Jaskier's hands are trailing beneath his cloak. It's not until ice cold fingertips slip underneath the hem of his shirt that Geralt catches on to the ploy.