Geraskier Oneshots

Dreaming of You

Please read the author's note at the end of this chapter!!

His eyes were closed.  When his eyes were closed, no one could see them, no one could cringe in fear.  No one was scared he would hurt them.

Jaskier had his eyes closed because he was sleeping.

Geralt envied him.  A clear conscience made for easy rest.  

Pity that he couldn't stop thinking about him.

There was an idea among women, witches especially, that if you couldn't sleep, someone was thinking about you.  Perhaps Jaskier was dreaming about him. 

He almost laughed aloud at the pure idea of that.  Why would Jaskier be thinking about him?  What could he possibly be doing, thinking about Geralt?

But Jaskier was dreaming about him.

He was dreaming in pictures at first, flashes of darkness and blood and horrible creatures that rend flesh and tear muscle and crack bones.  He felt pain for the actions, but never continuously; always coming and going quickly.  Then from out of the darkness, an image of Geralt and the dream solidified.

He was in some sort of cave, dripping stalactites coming from the ceiling like massive teeth.  The pain was there, but it felt real now, as if this were actually happening.  He was aware he was dreaming, in the way one is aware that he is alive, which is to say not much.  He braced against it, arcing, and found blood gushing from a wound in his side.

"Fuck, Geralt," he rasped.  "Fuck!  Ow, ow, oh, God, ow,"

"I know," Geralt said and picked him up with all the effort of one picking up a bundle of grapes.  "You'll be fine,"

Although he didn't sound like he was sure of that.  He sounded like his throat was in pain... which was close to terrified. 

He was fully conscious, but it was still a dream, so the ride on horseback passed impossibly fast.  They rode to a doctor, an elf Jaskier recognized from when he was Jinn-cursed.  Of course, this was a dream, so it was just a substitute for any doctor, and he leaned over Jaskier and declared him near death, though he was perfectly conscious.

Geralt roared, "Fix him!"

The elf said he was unable to, and Jaskier was going to die within the hour.  Jaskier began to panic, and sat up, but then Yennefer was suddenly there, and she healed him, then just... disappeared, because of course, 'twas a dream.

Jaskier stood and was immediately swept into Geralt's arms for a lingering kiss, and then-

He woke up.

He wanted to scream.  All of that and I don't even get to kiss him?  I almost died for that?!

Geralt was, of course, staring pensively out at the river, for that was what he always did once he woke up.  He'd slept little and woken early, unable to relax.  All seemed to convalesce at once and left him edgy and ready to lash out.  He was anxious about his eyes, his mind, his line of work, and, most acutely, Jaskier.  The bard was staring him down like he had just murdered his entire family and then his horse.  

But when Geralt looked up, Jaskier looked away.  So he ignored it and went about his day.  But yet, out of the corner of his eye, he would continuously see the bard looking at him.  Every time his head turned, he seemed to be there, staring with the intensity of a small house-fire.  

As they mounted up (in near silence; Jaskier had naught talked except for to ask for a passed spoon, or to communicate as they took down their camp), Geralt bit his tongue.  He really wanted to ask what was going on, but it wasn't his place to know; Jaskier would tell him when he was ready.