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Jaskier is excited. He and Geralt had been separated the past few months—Jaskier had to swing by Oxenfurt and get caught up on the recent gossip and fashions, and Geralt had gotten antsy and continued traveling without him—but he'd finally caught up to him. According to the innkeeper's lovely and buxom wife, he'd stepped out to deal with a monster attacking the village's hunters, and would have to return at some point to get his reward. So Jaskier settles in and plays a few sets for the lunch crowd, anxious for his return.
When the sun begins to set, though, Jaskier begins to worry. Geralt is surely fine, but… But what if? He flags the innkeeper's wife again. "Where did you say this monster appears again?"
By the time he makes it out to the entwined trees where the most recent murder was, it's nearly dark, and Jaskier is a little concerned about calling undue attention to himself, making so much noise. Hopefully Geralt will find him first. "Geralt? Geraaalt! Geralt where are you? It's getting dark, and it's cold, and I'd really love to find you before any wolves find me—"
Jaskier cuts himself off with a squeaky yip when a growl sounds from the bushes on his left. He peers at them dubiously. It's a noise he's very familiar with Geralt making, but on the other hand, it really could be wolves, too, it's basically the same sound, and that's a distinction that's rather important just now. Still, Jaskier has a tendency toward recklessness, so he inches past the bushes to see—
"Oh thank the gods, Geralt, what are you doing here, you're hours late, can you not get back to the village? Are you injured? Let me—oh sweet Melitele there's a hole in your thigh, how did that get there, where are your potions—" Jaskier flaps his hands all over Geralt, checking for injuries and potions and panicking only a little bit, until Geralt cuts him off with a snarl and grabs both wrists in one hand and holds them still over his shoulder.
Jaskier calms a little in his forced stillness, and Geralt continues to growl lightly, clearly a bit out of sorts. Jaskier wiggles his fingers, wishing he could help somehow, and tries a slower, more serious tone of voice. "You're injured. What potions have you taken? Can you get back to the inn, or do you need help? I'm sure you took care of the big bad here, but there are still wild animals about, and the dirt's doing no favors for that wound." Geralt stops growling, and loosens his hold on Jaskier's wrists, but isn't any more verbal. Jaskier has a bad feeling about that—or a good feeling, rather, but this is not the time or place—and tries to usher Geralt to his feet. "Come on, up you go, the village isn't all that far." Unfortunately, Geralt is a great deal heavier than Jaskier and gets only about halfway to his feet before toppling forward and pinning Jaskier to the ground. Which. Isn't the worst position to be in, but is rather inconvenient in the circumstances.
Geralt sniffs the air deeply, then snuffles around Jaskier's neck and under his armpit (Jaskier tries to keep his arm down but even just Geralt's head is stronger than him) and finally settles with a happy whuff. Jaskier feels his rib cage being compressed, and takes careful breaths while Geralt nuzzles under his chin and behind his ears.
Jaskier is used to this. The first couple times Geralt went on a major hunt, one of the ones that he prepared for, he took a full day before coming back. It was early enough in their companionship that Jaskier was still a little concerned about Geralt suddenly packing up one day and marching off without him, so he stayed in the village and distracted himself with performances and other people's wives until Geralt came back, sometimes a little worse for wear but always on the mend.
The first time he'd seen the effects of Geralt's potions was quite accidental. Geralt had insisted for a while on sticking to main roads, mostly for the sake of not getting stuck trying to protect Jaskier from some nasty creature, but he did make his money taking out nasty creatures, so after a time they returned to the back roads that Geralt usually took. And, naturally, were attacked by a nasty creature. Jaskier quickly ducked behind a tree, but Geralt took a bad hit to the shoulder shielding him, and during a quick reprieve after smashing the thing away with aard, Geralt plucked a bottle of something from his pack and threw it back like a shot.
The fight was one of the most breathtaking and nerve-wracking things Jaskier had ever seen, but the potion seemed to sway the tide and it ended quickly. The moment he stopped moving, however, Geralt dropped to his knees. When he approached, Jaskier found that the wound had stopped bleeding, and Geralt's eyes were black as pitch. He poked and prodded at the new features, and Geralt shook him off with a few particularly gruff words. But later that evening, as they were setting up the fire and the black was slowly bleeding away, Geralt casually came back from untacking Roach to sit uncomfortably close to Jaskier.
And then scooched closer. And closer.
And Jaskier started babbling out of nervousness, but Geralt didn't seem to notice as he silently shoved his face into Jaskier's neck, toppling him over. Later, Geralt would explain that the last bit of coming down off potions makes witchers feel vulnerable, and there's an instinctual need to be close to someone who smells "safe."
Now, years later, Jaskier understands this to mean "someone Geralt trusts." What's flattering, in retrospect, is how quickly Geralt's instincts accepted Jaskier. It took the man many years to get his feelings in order, and those quiet moments after a hunt when Geralt would cuddle close and fall asleep in his lap were incredibly necessary for keeping the hope in Jaskier's pining heart.
Now, they have a routine. And Jaskier has enough experience with post-potion Geralt to know what he can get away with. So he takes a careful, big breath, and shouts in Geralt's ear to get him off of him. Geralt shrinks back immediately. If he had wolf ears, they'd be down and back in alarm, but Jaskier can read it just as easily in his eyes, slowly regaining their irises. "Shh, shh, sorry puppy, it's okay, I'm okay now," he gentles, reaching out a hand. Geralt eagerly fits his face into Jaskier's palm and turns to nuzzle his wrist with his nose.
Jaskier considers trying to lure Geralt out of the forest, now that he's got his attention, but decides against it. Geralt will only be like this for a couple of hours, and bringing him through the village in this state feels like a breach of trust. Geralt wouldn't want any strangers to see him like this. So he props himself up against a tree and beckons Geralt towards him.
Geralt pounces.
He has enough consciousness not to hurt Jaskier by squeezing too hard, but he cuddles enthusiastically, and rubs his face all over Jaskier's face, neck, hands and arms, armpits and groin. The last one was particularly awkward for both of them before Geralt got his shit together. Now Jaskier is so used to it he's not even embarrassed about his semi-erection, despite knowing that there's going to be no action until this is over.
Jaskier, meanwhile, takes advantage of the cuddliness and cuddles right back. Even now that they're together, Geralt is nervous around affection. He still tenses sometimes at a clap to the shoulder that he doesn’t see coming, and always pulls away when Jaskier cups his face for more than two seconds. Only during these few hours when Geralt is coming down from a potion can Jaskier unleash his full affection for the man, and not only is it accepted, it's reciprocated in full.
He cards his hands through Geralt's hair, and rubs the back of his neck. He paws at Geralt's chest through the armor, and wraps his hands around Geralt's waist. It's only then that he remembers the injury. He glances down, but can't tell in the dark if Geralt is still bleeding. It's entirely possible that one of the potions he's coming off of is a healing potion. Either way, he can't get away from Geralt while he's being clingy, and he can't whistle like Geralt to call Roach to them for the extra potions bag, so he resolves to be careful around Geralt's thigh and get it checked out first thing in the morning.
In the meantime, Geralt has climbed fully into Jaskier's lap, and is making the rumbly sound in his chest that Jaskier has likened (only in his head) to a cat purring. He can feel the vibrations all through his body where Geralt is pressed flush to him, arms wrapped securely around him and nose pressed to his neck.
Jaskier, in return, curls his free hand in Geralt's hair again, and presses his lips to Geralt's temple in a not-quite-kiss. Enticed by the ear right by his mouth, he murmurs lowly to Geralt: "good boy, that's it, you're safe now, you're safe with me. Don't worry sweetheart, I'm here." He's in for another couple hours at least, and knows at some point he'll turn to singing, unable to sit in silence for more than five minutes. Luckily, this version of Geralt likes his singing.
Really, really likes his singing.
----
Jaskier only realizes he's nodded off when he's startled awake by Geralt shifting off him. It's still dark, but he estimates it's closer to dawn than dusk. He'd been up for most of the night, at least. The only reason he could fall asleep is because Geralt was covering him like a blanket the whole time, keeping him warm. Speaking of—
"Geralt?" He fumbles for Geralt's knee, which is still touching him, and follows the lines of his body up to cup his face. Geralt shakes off his hand. Back to normal, then.
"How'd you find me?" Geralt asks in a quiet rumble.
"How do you think? I asked around. Taciturn, white-haired witchers are, believe it or not, a rather unusual sight. One that most people tend to remember," Jaskier snips through a yawn, a little tetchy still from having been woken up with not enough sleep. He's pulled to his feet by the wrist as Geralt stands.
Then his brain fires up again and he remembers why they're out in the woods.
"Are you alright? You were injured."
"Hm," Geralt doesn't really answer. Jaskier sighs and accepts that he won't be getting any more information out of him.
"Either way, back to the inn? I had a room for the night, with a bed that we could sleep the remainder of the night in. A little more comfortable than sitting up against a tree, don't you think?" Jaskier steps away, in the direction he thinks he came the night before, but Geralt, still holding him by the wrist, doesn't move.
"This way," Geralt says, then sounds out a loud, complicated whistle. Within seconds, they hear the slow clopping of Roach picking her way through the trees to them. Very handy, that whistle. With her reins in one hand and Jaskier's wrist in the other, Geralt moves through the trees, leading them carefully back to the village. Jaskier zones out, sleep-deprived, and stumbles a few times. Geralt miraculously catches him every single time.
Without really registering how they got there, Jaskier recognizes the lights lining the town as they enter. Geralt leans Jaskier against the front of the inn as he stables Roach, and then apparently gives up and throws him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes to carry him upstairs to the room, which he must use his witchery senses to divine because he picks the right door with no hesitation.
He lays Jaskier down gently, only taking off his boots, and slides into bed behind him without even lighting a candle. Jaskier is already halfway back to sleep, but he still hears it when Geralt mumbles into his hair, "m'sorry."
If it were anything else, Jaskier would be incredibly confused, because Geralt of Rivia doesn't apologize for much. This, however, he knows is actually an embarrassed reaction. Geralt remembers everything from when he's potion-drunk, and gets second-hand embarrassment over his affectionate side. It's one of the reasons he had a rule not to travel with anyone, until Jaskier came along.
Jaskier flaps a hand behind him to find Geralt's hand, and pulls it over his stomach, linking their fingers. "Dun be sorry," he slurs into the pillow, fading quickly. "I missed you, wolf."
In his last moments of consciousness, he feels Geralt settle closer and take slow, conscious breaths, matching Jaskier's.