Meet Me In Posada

Chapter 7

Geralt can tell me the exact moment that his Jaskier returns to him. He jolts a little, then gently pulls away from the witcher's embrace to look at him and smiles. Oh, that smile. Geralt could live for a thousand years and somehow it would still take his breath away each time.

Geralt caresses his knuckles down on the contour of his love's face, and the bard only seems to shine brighter. "Jaskier," he murmurs, "You're back."

"I am. Hello, my darling witcher." He sniffles a little, since he'd been crying only moments before, and wipes the remaining tears away on the cuff of his sleeve. "How did it go?"

"Well, I think," Geralt replies. "He cried a lot."

"Mmm. As I told you he would." He lets out a sigh. "Oh, Julian, you were such a hopeless romantic. One kind word and the waterworks started. Did he muster up enough courage to read you his love sonnet?"

Geralt raises an eyebrow. "Love sonnet? He did not."

"Well, it's for the best I suppose. It was truly terrible. I did not make good use of subtlety or metaphor at all when I was his age." The bard yawns, snuggling back into the other man's side as Geralt puts an arm around him.

"Hm. You weren't particularly great with subtlety when we met either." The corner of his mouth curls up slightly at the memory. Jaskier was a shameless flirt when they first met, imbued with the confidence of a man that knew they would end up together anyway, and many of his lines were just awful; "bread in pants" being one of particular note. Still though, if it hadn't been for the bard's unashamed confidence and never-ending determination, it likely would have taken Geralt much longer to accept the strange little man into his life.

Beside him, Jaskier gives him a look. "What are you thinking about?"

The witcher hums. "I just realized something."

"Oh? What's that?"

"I forgot to warn him, about what I would be like when he found me."

Jaskier smiles softly, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind the witcher's ear. "You mean terribly brutish and grumpy?"

"Hm."

"I wouldn't worry about that, darling. He'll be so enamoured with you he won't even notice. Because he'll remember this version of you and already know about your soft gooey center."

"Still, I wish him luck. He'll need it."

"He's already lucky," Jaskier says. "He has the best soulmate a man could ask for."

Geralt smiles, pulling him in for a kiss. "Not as lucky as I am."

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His version of Geralt has returned, Jaskier can tell from the way that the witcher relaxes in his arms, exhaling a long and slow breath as all the worries slip from his mind, and he cuddles closer into the bard's chest.

Jaskier presses a kiss to his brow and reclines back against the grass, pulling his lover with him. He strokes his fingers through the witcher's silver hair and begins to hum a quiet tune. After some time, a low rumble begins to emanate from the witcher's chest.

Jaskier always marvels that a man who appears so tough and rugged can so easily be reduced to putty in his hands. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Geralt hardly received a kind word or touch before the two crossed paths. Once the witcher had finally grown comfortable around him, Jaskier discovered that Geralt was so touch starved he would melt the instant someone showed him physical affection, so much so that his brain went blank and fuzzy and he would sometimes slip into a calm meditative state. Geralt didn't even know that he could purr until a year into their relationship, it was an involuntary response that it turns out he'd never been content enough to invoke before.

It's because of this that Jaskier adores these quiet moments with his soulmate. There's something incredibly powerful about being the person that his witcher trusts most in the world, being the only person that Geralt can share this with.

"I missed you," Jaskier murmurs, kissing the top of the witcher's head.

Geralt lifts his head ever so slightly to raise an eyebrow. "I never left."

"But you did though. In all the ways that matter. I missed my version of you; my husband, my soulmate, my love."

"Was he truly that bad?"

"No," Jaskier says, "of course not. I still found glimpses of the man I love, even under all of that grunting and growling. But he was quieter, on edge. He threatened me with a candlestick."

Geralt sighs. "I did warn you he would be difficult." He shakes his head. "It's hard to even connect to the person I was back then; so many things have changed. Especially after Blaviken, I was so lonely and self-hating."

"Mmm. Yes, I remember. But I think this younger version of you was even more prickly than when we first met."

"You helped with that a lot, actually, during the Swap. That was the first time anyone said they loved me. Before that I didn't believe someone could be capable of it. It... gave me hope, I suppose."

"Awww, Geralt," Jaskier whines, "you're going to make me cry."

"It's true," the witcher insists, then, "thank you. For saying what you did to him. He needed to hear that more than you know."

"I meant every word of it."

"I know you did," Geralt replies, cupping the bard's face in his hands. "I love you so much, Jask."

"I love you too, my darling witcher."

They share a kiss and Jaskier basks in the moment. They've overcome many trials, Geralt and him, but each one was worth it if it means that he can have this time here, with the man he loves. Nothing could be more precious than that.