Try, Please Try For Me

Urph

The next couple weeks are a whirlwind of everything happening at once.

When Jaskier returns from meeting with the queen, he and Geralt take a walk around the palace grounds where the bard tells him everything. He's practically bursting with emotions as he does so and the mishmash of scents is enough to make Geralt's head spin.

Later that day the queen has their things moved from the cottage and into a ridiculously large suite of rooms in the palace, with a balcony overlooking the courtyard, an indoor bath that is more comparable to the hot springs in Kaer Morhen than a tub, and a bed so massive that Geralt is sure a goose-based genocide must have been committed to stuff the mattress.

It makes him uncomfortable, as finery always does, but despite putting the Earl's manor to shame in terms of wealth, being in the palace doesn't make Geralt want to snap and start scratching at the walls on a moment's notice. At least not for now. The high ceilings and open space helps to make it not seem like a prison. And of course, Jaskier's presence at his side makes the experience already an improvement.

Things are better between them-- which Geralt is immensely grateful for, but they are still not as they used to be. While Jaskier no longer has a dark cloud following him wherever he goes, there is still an invisible divide between the two of them that Geralt catches in the moments when Jaskier will hesitate before touching him or gets a melancholy look in his eye.

They still sleep in the same bed, with Jaskier clinging to him like his usual barnacle self, and Geralt burying his nose in the bard's hair, basking in the calming scent of lime and honey. Jaskier's presence beside him is enough to make him feel more at ease in this unfamiliar environment-- and he also has trouble sleeping without Jaskier at his side since growing used to it. He still gets to wake to Jaskier's soft smiles and warm embrace and the occasional chaste kiss when Jaskier is too sleepy to get absorbed in his own thoughts. But even still, the unspoken matter of the distance between them persistently hangs in the air.

Geralt wants to make things better. He tries to give Jaskier space to think and work through his feelings, respects him when the bard quietly asks if Geralt can give him time alone. It will take time, Geralt knows this, but that still doesn't stop him from longing to pull Jaskier into his arms at any given moment and kiss the life out of him. Longing to touch him, feel him writhe and moan beneath Geralt's practiced fingers. He wants to keep Jaskier in bed for hours on end, just talking and holding each other close like those lazy winter mornings at Kaer Morhen. But most of all, Geralt just wants to see Jaskier's eyes light up the way they used to, and catch a glimpse of that sunshine coursing through his veins that the bard is generous enough to share with him.

But in order to have that Geralt needs to do the thing he's been dreading the most since returning to Faerie: talk.

It all comes to a head when Jaskier returns one sunny afternoon from having tea with the queen-- an activity they've since begun to do daily-- and upon returning to their room, gives Geralt the brightest smile the witcher has seen in weeks and Geralt knows it has to be now.

"Jask-- can we talk?"

The bright look on Jaskier's face, one that usually precedes him gushing about some song lyrics he's thought up or some new flower he's discovered in the palace gardens, falls away. His jaw snaps shut with a click, and his demeanor shifts into something more serious.

"I...of course, Geralt. We can always talk."

Even when I'm upset with you goes unsaid, but Geralt knows Jaskier has been ever so slightly avoiding him for this reason.

"Do you want to...?" Geralt gestures towards the nearby sofa, then sits down on the edge, patting the spot next to him.

For a moment, he thinks Jaskier will refuse and instead choose to stand, but after a few seconds of looking lost in thought, the bard nods and tentatively sits down in the offered space.