Try, Please Try For Me

Jaskier And The Terrible, Horrible, Very Bad Trek Up The Mountain

"You are a cruel and evil man," Jaskier says, glaring at Geralt from across their camp. His head still feels cloudy with post-sleep haze and he can hardly keep his eyes open, but that still hasn't stopped Geralt from jostling him awake at some ungodly hour, handing him his sword, and directing Jaskier to practice his stances.

"Interesting you say that now," Geralt says, putting away Jaskier's bedroll-- thus crushing all hopes of returning to sleep-- and fastening it to Roach's saddle, "when you shared a vastly different sentiment last night."

Jaskier gasps in offense, placing a hand on his hip. "Yes, well-- apparently my affections for you were misplaced. Had I known you would be such an unforgiving brute this morning perhaps I would have reconsidered."

"I told you we would have an early morning."

"And yet!" Jaskier says, pointing a finger at him, "you seduced me, you-- you charlatan."

Geralt snorts. "I was sleeping."

"As was I! Until I found myself overcome by your roguish wiles!"

"Oh really," Geralt cocks an eyebrow, "is that what happened? Because from what I can recall, I was minding my own business, getting some sleep, and you were shaking me awake, because you had a quote, 'sexy dream' about me, and wanted to act on it immediately."

Jaskier sputters, then turns rather defensively, leering at Geralt over his shoulder. "Well what can you expect, I am only a man, after all, and you're right next to me all enticing and witchery and handsome and--"

"--Jaskier, you're stalling. Stances. Practice. Now."

"Ugh, fine," he grumbles, then moves himself into the first stance, muttering under his breath, "stupid, brutish witcher, no respect for my beauty sleep. After I lavished my affections upon you-- no respect."

"I heard that."

Stupid witcher senses.

Jaskier begrudgingly works through his stances, fighting the drowsiness that threatens to overtake him, watching out of the corner of his eye as Geralt packs up their campsite. His metal sword is heavy in his hands-- and is a bitch to lift like this-- so he understands why Geralt wants him to practice, it's just that building muscle for strength is an awful process.

The tiredness is his fault, really. At least, it is the fault of Nighttime Jaskier, who is an absolute self-indulging bastard, and holds no consideration for Morning Jaskier. He can hardly help it though. Jaskier's sex drive is...persistant, and having a very attractive witcher who he is very much in love with, nearby at all times, ruins his better judgement. He is,of course, naught but a man.

Honestly, he's lucky he's found someone like Geralt, who can keep up with him without tiring.

He works through the motions over and over again, until Geralt has packed away their things, and comes over to stop him with a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. "That's enough for now, lark," the witcher says, guiding Jaskier's arm into a resting position. "Go and eat something, we have a long day ahead of us."

Jaskier nods, and does as he says.

Today is the day they begin the trek to Kaer Morhen, Geralt's home, and Jaskier can feel the anticipation in his bones.

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"Tell me about Kaer Morhen."

The question comes as a result of two things: Jaskier's genuine curiosity for the place they will winter at, and his desperate need for a distraction from the burn in his calves after walking uphill for hours, hauling extra supplies behind him.