Fight Me

by keys_and_bees

Summary:

Geralt is by no means a man of attachment, or so he claims. As time passes he begins to realize he may not stay as uninvolved as he would like to.

This is also on my Wattpad account.

Chapter 1: Negotiation

Geralt is covered in blood and gore as he makes his way out of the abandoned building. It was a simple fight, but a messy one. He wants nothing more than to get a room at the local inn and rest. His hopes are quickly smothered.

The second he steps foot outside, he is pounced on. Y/N has been waiting patiently above the door, perched on the thick frame with his daggers. Y/N launches himself from the door frame and kicks Geralt roughly in the back sending him sprawling face-down onto the ground. Geralt instinctively reaches for his swords, but Y/N pins both of Geralt's arms down with his knees.

Y/N's blade pressed coldly against the side of Geralt's throat as he speaks. "That was my contract, Witcher. You just fucked me out of my supplies for the next month." Geralt looks up at him, the best he can for the position, with a surprisingly calm face. Frankly, it pisses Y/N off.

"Talk to the man who gave me coin for it."

"Witcher," Y/N presses the blade a little more firmly to his throat, "You owe me that money."

Geralt is done with whatever game this ballsy stranger is playing. With ease he uses his legs to knock Y/N off of him before he presses and pins Y/N into the mud. He takes his sword from its sheath and presses it into the soft front of Y/N's throat. Geralt can smell the slight hint of fear on Y/N, but also the overwhelming stench of arousal. He tries his best to ignore it. This man should be fearing for his life.

"I owe you nothing," Geralt's face is stern, "Talk to the man who gave me the contract. Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone. I doubt you could have completed the contract. You're human."

That seems to light something on fire in Y/N's eyes. He looks nearly deranged with anger. "Fuck you." With the cleverness of the town drunk, Y/N angles his neck just right and spits in Geralt's face. This is Geralt, as in Geralt of Rivia, the man with a sword at his throat, the renowned Butcher of Blaviken, the very strong, scary man above him. Y/N still seems rather pleased with himself.

"Listen here you little shit-" Geralt begins. He is cut off by Y/N's knee meeting his crotch. The kick is vicious, a dirty move, and something Geralt could have easily avoided, but Y/N doesn't necessarily care about fighting fair. Geralt groans as he releases his sword and Y/N slips from below Geralt's knees.

With a smirk Y/N says, "You know Witcher, I was always told your kind was smart. You should have seen that coming." Then, Y/N simply saunters off into the town.

___

They don't see each other after that for a couple months. When they do, it's in a rather crowded tavern.

Geralt notices the face easily. The man who had bested him in a fight, or at least, had gotten away. Whenever Geralt realizes the opportunity this presents he takes one last gulp of his ail and makes his way to the man. As he walks over he feels anger rising within him. Y/N seems perfectly at ease on his little bar stool, laughing over an ail with another man who seems more interested in the silhouette of the tight fitting leather on Y/N's body than anything he has to say. Geralt pretends he doesn't also study the man's attractive figure before making his final few steps to him.

He is pissed to say the least.

"Hey," he says, roughly grabbing ahold of Y/N's collar, "what the hell are you doing in here?"

Y/N smirks before turning his attention away from the man at the bar, "The same thing you are. Drinking an ail and trying to find company for the night." His eyes glitter with mischief before he winks at the man at the bar. His eyes don't come back to meet Geralt's, but Geralt continues to give Y/N an impressively aggressive glare.

"Are we going to have a problem here?" the man asks. Geralt nearly laughs out loud. As if this man could help Y/N in any way.

"I think we're quite alright, Claude," Y/N smiles, laying a reassuring hand far too high on Claude's thigh, "I think this poor man here," Y/N gave a slight nod in Geralt's direction, "didn't quite understand our last little interaction."

The man from the bar glares at the Witcher for a second before realization washes over his face, leaving pure fear behind.

"Holy shit. You're a witcher." He backs up a little, bumping into the bar, before ultimately leaving the tavern. Although his eyes flickered toward Y/N for a moment, the fear far outweighs his lust.

"Oh, look what you've gone and done. Who's supposed to warm my bed now. You certainly won't."

Geralt simply gives Y/N a warning look before releasing his collar.

"I fear you've stretched my collar, Witcher." Y/N says with dismay and a pout. "I don't even know your name and you're treating me like we're enemies. It was just one little scuffle."

"Geralt. My name is Geralt."

"Geralt of Rivia, I presume. You're a quiet fellow."

Geralt simply looks at Y/N with continued annoyance.

"My name is Y/N. Thank you for asking," Y/N says with heavy tones of sarcasm.

"Hmm."

"I don't know why I bother. See you around," Y/N gives his next words sarcastic emphasis, "Geralt of Rivia."

Y/N hops out of his seat and blows Geralt a kiss before he leaves the tavern, and Geralt simply watches him with interested eyes. Few men treat Geralt like that. Geralt doesn't want to admit to himself that he enjoys the intrigue of it.

___

It's another couple months later when their paths cross again. They happen to be passing through the same town. The sheep in the area are getting slaughtered at a shockingly high rate, and the town practically begs the witcher to take the contract. The coin is good, so Geralt complies.

When he's done he takes a bath at the local inn and revels in the heat of the water. When it cools he makes his way down to the tavern and happily, that is to say, not unhappily, buys an ail and a hot meal. He hasn't had anything decent to eat in a while.

This time it's Y/N who notices Geralt first. He slides into the seat next to him and props his head on the side of the table with his arm, his whole body turned to face Geralt. Geralt looks at him a moment before getting back to his meal.

"You're not much of a talker dear Geralt of Rivia. It's a wonder anyone even knows you have a name, let alone a monster hunting business."

When Geralt doesn't respond Y/N groans.

"I think we should travel together."

That catches Geralt's attention. His answer is still simple.

"No."

"Come on! We both hunt monsters. We could work together, split the coin. More contracts means more money. You could stay at an inn, have some girls..." Y/N motions as if he is going to continue, but he doesn't. Instead he gives Geralt an unbelievably hopeful look.

"I don't travel with anyone, and I sure as hell don't work with anyone."

Y/N laughs, "It speaks!" His demeanor once again shifts serious and persuasive, "Geralt, I don't want to travel with you either, but you're taking my contracts. Either we travel together, or we fight. I don't think you want to fight me. You don't kill humans." It's manipulative, but it's all Y/N has left. He dresses with finest clothes the lands have to offer and keeps up with his outward appeance with great attnetiveness. It's hard to have a well tailored leather jerkin and a clean shaven face when you can't afford a simple meal.

"I said no."

"One month. One month, and if you don't like it I'll never bother you again."

"You won't leave me alone until I say yes, will you?"

"Nope."

"Alright."

Y/N practically beams before slipping out of the booth and making his way to the bar for a celebratory ail. Geralt looks into his glass with growing irritation. This is going to be a long month.

Chapter 2: Fight Me

Y/N expected Geralt to put up more of a fight, but he isn't complaining. He wass, however, not prepared for a yes. He has no clue where they will go, and if it would even be worth it to team up. If they end up operating at a loss, Geralt will certainly dismiss Y/N as soon as possible. If he does that, Y/N will be screwed.

Geralt had been making it difficult to find and keep contracts. Y/N is good at what he does. However, when given the choice between a nonhuman beefcake and an exceptionally skilled human, people often opt for the Witcher.

The solution is obvious to Y/N now. He will have to be the most kick-ass and cunning that he has ever been. For tonight, he is simply going to get buzzed and go to bed. He tells himself that he's earned it, but he understandably regrets drinking when he is outside his inn puking his brains out. It isn't his fault that he's drank more than he planned! He isn't the type to waste perfectly good alcohol when it is being offered by handsome strangers.

As he stands up, fresh vomit staining his leather boots, he swears he see something in the corner of his eye. It has to be just past the corner of the inn. He hopes it was just something stumbling around on the tree line. Perhaps it was just a curious doe. He can't convince himself to ignore it, though. As much as he wants to go inside and sleep this off, he knows it is unwise to ignore something like that.

Y/N fumbles to grab the dagger he keeps strapped to his thigh before starting toward the tree line. He doesn't have to go very far to realize that the effort would be futile. The second he turns the corner of the inn he sees footprints leading into the town. The impressions in the mud look deep. Whoever left these prints had to of sprinted as soon as Y/N saw them. He hoped it was just a curious stranger.

Relatively unbothered, Y/N goes back into the inn and curls up in his bed. Tomorrow would be a new day, and it would be a trial on how helpful a human can be to a witcher.

- - -

Trouble doesn't come until the morning when Y/N stumbles into the foyer of the inn both hungover and impatient. His things are already packed, but Geralt is nowhere to be seen. He assumes Geralt must be out at the stables. They never talked about where they'd meet in the morning. That much might have been a mistake.

However, when Y/N gets to the stables he sees Geralt mounting his horse.

"Hey, were you not going to wait for me?" Y/N asks, somewhat hurt.

Geralt wordlessly stares down from Roach.

Y/N's eyes are judgmental. "You were going to leave weren't you? Fucking liar." This gets Geralt's attention.

"It's easier this way. I work alone."

"Oh, boo-hoo. Poor Geralt!" He nearly hisses the words. "The Butcher of Blavikan must isolate himself if others won't do it for him!"

Geralt dismounts effortlessly and covers the small distance between them with ease.

"Shut your filthy mouth, Y/N." It's a thinly veiled threat made obvious by Geralt's clenched firsts. Y/N had been trying to provoke him, but he didn't realize how easy it would be.

"I told you that you'd have to fight me or let me join you. You wanna know why? Because I think we're pretty evenly matched. I thought you'd have enough self respect to at least choose one option you fucking coward, so I'm choosing for you. Fight. Me."

Geralt rears back to swing at Y/N's unprotected face. He easily dodges the blow, ducking down to grab Geralt's knee and pulling up enough to throw Geralt on his back. Geralt grabs his shoulder and takes him down with him.

The fight becomes a glorified wrestling match. It's hard for either to get a good grip on anything with the silty mud that is lathering them both. Y/N fights tooth and nail, but Geralt eventually has him fully tackled in the mud. Y/N stares up at Geralt for a moment as he looks back.

Y/N's words are raspy from the weight above him, but he manages to get out, "I was hard to take down, wasn't I?"

Geralt let's out a small 'hmm' before releasing Y/N.

"Come on. I'm a good fighter. Please," he rests a reassuring hand on Geralt's shoulder, "just a month."

Geralt shrugs off his hand before getting back on Roach, looking away from Y/N the whole time.

"You don't get to ride Roach, and it may not be a whole month." Y/N beams.

"I'll go get my horse!" He practically skips into the stable.

Inside, is a manicured and buff Morgan mare. It doesn't take long to tack her up, and she trots out happily with Y/N on her back.

"We ready to go, Witcher?" Y/N looks positively radiant with joy.

Geralt, who Y/N assesses as the quiet, stoic type, leads Roach into a canter, and the two of them are on their way.

- - -

About halfway through the trip, Y/N realizes he has no clue where they are going. Geralt obviously knows where he's going. Y/N eases his horse forward so he is at an even trot next to Geralt.

"So," Y/N smiles at him, "where are we going?"

"Town in the mountains."

Y/N's words drip with sarcasm and false enthusiasm as he proclaims, "Wow, thank you Geralt. I understand so well now!"

"It's a contract."

"Okay, and what are we fighting?"

"Something is eating the sheep."

"Was that so hard? Because for me it was like pulling teeth." Y/N huffs and falls back behind Geralt.

- - -

Y/N had assumed that they would make it to the aforementioned town before nightfall. His horse could have certainly gone much further than they had. Morgans are bred for endurance, and this particular horse had proven especially skilled in covering ground.

Geralt had diligently made a small camp site complete with his bed roll and a fire. It is gorgeous out so there is no need for much shelter, so the area they are in is open to the elements. Y/N is laying out his bed roll while Geralt feeds Roach some treats. Y/N notes how affectionate he is with his horse. Maybe that's just how lonely people are.

When Y/N is curled up in his bed roll and nearly asleep by the time Geralt settles down. His compulsion to speak to end the uncomfortable silence is overbearing.

"Why do you travel alone?"

Geralt doesn't reply. Y/N awkwardly curls himself to face away from Geralt as he realizes that this partnership might not be as easy to maintain as he had hoped.

Chapter 3: The Barkeep

Y/N wakes at dawn, and he is surprised to see that Geralt is still asleep. This immediately summons memories of how early Geralt had been leaving the stables yesterday. That man will really do anything to be alone. Bastard.

Deciding he would have enough time, Y/N went in search of some prey for breakfast. Hunting monsters wasn't the only type of hunting he was good at. He flawlessly killed, skinned, and cooked a rabbit before Geralt even grumbled awake.

"Finally joining the living, are we?" Y/N asked with a playful tone. He offered part of the skewered animal to Geralt. Geralt, looking grumpy, took it with as much sass as he could manage in his tired state.

Y/N laughed. "Not a morning person?"

Geralt responded in kind with a glare before biting into the glistening rump of the rabbit. His face betrayed him as his eyebrows raised.

"It's good." The remark was short, but the compliment was seemingly genuine. Maybe even a hint of gratitude was hidden in the cryptic look that Geralt made as he said it. Y/N hoped that one day he could decipher such looks. Not out of fancy, but out of interest, intrigue. Geralt was as good a puzzle as any.

They enjoyed their breakfast in relative silence before feeding their respective horses. Y/N's mare, Biscuit, was practically radiating happiness. She was a social girl, and having the proximity of another horse had her glowing. Maybe Y/N chose her because of their similarity in that aspect. He didn't think about it too in-depth.

Once they were on the road, Y/N got bored with the lack of conversation, but decided it would be best to keep quiet. He needed to prove himself. He was a skilled hunter, so he couldn't let his personality get in the way of a symbiotic partnership with the Witcher. Business is business.

Suddenly, a thought came to mind.

"Geralt," Y/N began, "what is all the information you have on the monster we're heading to?"

Geralt gave a glance at him before replying, "Not only are the sheep being killed, but one of the citizens was also attacked."

That is never a good sign. It is better to get into town before the human attacks begin. Livestock are replaceable, but human death leads to mourning and hysteria. Fishing for information and leads in a town full of scared mothers and fathers is never easy.

"Where'd you get this information?" Y/N asked.

Geralt eased Roach into a faster pace, and Y/N followed suit, irked by Geralt blowing off his question.

They arrived to the town around noon. The streets were still busy, so that was a good sign. Both hunters felt hope that this might be an easy contract.

When the townspeople caught sight of Geralt, they retreated from him. The people looked scared of him. One mother even hid her children behind her to shelter them from his gaze. Y/N hadn't realized how much people disliked Witcher's. In his mind, they were just an upgraded version of himself, and people loved that he was a hunter.

The two continued to the local bar. The barkeep always had the best information, and the two were hoping the worker would be privy to what was going on in the town.

When they entered the bar, their presence hushed the few patrons who sat hammered in their respective stools. It was going to be a difficult trip. Y/N began regretting his decision to tag along with Geralt. His presence seemed to kill the environment he usually used to his advantage.

They sat together at the bar and conversation tentatively resumed around them while patrons eyed the pair. The barkeep actively ignored their presence. To Y/N's dismay, she even ignored his polite attempts at getting her attention.

"Geralt," Y/N whispers, "you should go wait out by the horses."

"No."

Y/N deadpanned and whispered, "I can get the information we need. I've done it before. I can meet you outside after. This town doesn't particularly care for you presence, yeah?"

Geralt huffed.

"Trust me," Y/N said.

Geralt gave one last steely look to the barkeep and his companion before he left the bar entirely.

"Miss?" Y/N asked. She met his eyes. "Can I get an ail?"

The woman topped up a mug stubbornly before she served it to him.

"We don't allow animals at the bar. Keep that Witcher outside."

"Don't worry, miss. I'll keep him out of your hair. I wouldn't want you needing to deal with such a brute." Y/N was convincing, and he momentarily questioned why he didn't pursue a degree in acting instead. It would have been much safer.

"Well, aren't you just the perfect gentleman," she rested her arm on the bar in front of him as she rolled her eyes. "Why are you traveling with one of them? They're dangerous."

"I like to keep my motives to myself, but I'll let you in on a little secret." He leaned across the bar to get closer to her ear before he whispered, "I have a hard time not taking in my own little pity projects."

She smirked and said, "He's quite the project."

"I can handle myself."

She was motioned over by another patron, and Y/N finally got a chance to drink the ail. He tried not to gag on the disgusting liquid as she came back to talk to him.

"Mmmm," he said, "is this brewed local?"

"Yes! Though, the brewer isn't around anymore." She frowned and absently polished a perfectly pristine mug,

"I'm sorry to hear that. His brew is great." He lied.

She leaned over the bar toward him this time. "They say he died of old age, but I saw the body. Something killed him, and it sure wasn't anything that is usually around here."

"I am actually in town to investigate just that. How odd?"

The rest of the conversation devolved into flirtatious nothingness, and Y/N eventually got himself to pull away from the chat. He had easily just wasted an hour at the bar, and he needed to get back to Geralt.

He waved goodbye as he went out to his horse. He was buzzed and smiling, and he wasn't at all expecting to get slammed into the weathered wall of the bar.

Geralt glared down at him while holding him to the wall by his shoulders. Y/N looked as shocked as he felt.

Eventually, Geralt growled out, "what the fuck are you doing?"

Chapter 4: Show A Little Respect

"Let go of me!" Y/N exclaimed after he found his voice. The Witcher glared through the man's eyes as he pressed himself closer.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Y/N was confused. "Geralt, what are you talking about?"

"Pity project." He emphasized the plosive words.

"Oh," Y/N understood and smiled a little bit at Geralt's misunderstanding, "I was lying. She didn't like you, and she didn't like that I was around you. We needed some sort of lead from her."

Geralt's look softened minimally, but his eyes remained staring into Y/N's. He released Y/N's shoulder and backed up a couple steps before fully calming down.

"I told you to trust me," Y/N assured.

Geralt didn't seem eased at all by the statement. It's not like they had known each other for a long time. They were still practically strangers.

Y/N proceeded to share the little amount of information that he had obtained. Geralt was annoyed at how incompetent Y/N had been. He had stood outside the pub for an hour only for Y/N to collect hardly anything. Y/N was hurt by Geralt's assessment of the situation, but he also understood his view. He decided it would be best to move past the snag and get back to their work.

They decided it would be best to divide and conquer, and they would meet in the town square when they were done. Geralt went to find the person who was giving the reward for this mysterious beast, and Y/N made himself useful by investigating the town itself.

While he was wandering, he walked past a house with candles and dying bouquets on the front porch. A woman and her daughter were organizing the piles and removing the older flowers in silence. Y/N felt rude to intrude, but he could tell this was the house of the recently deceased brewer.

He decided it was best to start with giving some condolences before fishing for information.

He went to the tiny town market and purchased a nice bouquet of flowers for the family. His body was tense when he tentatively made his way back to the house. The two were still there praying at the deceased's make-shift memorial, and Y/N waited until they were done before placing the flowers down with the rest.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He gave a sympathetic smile. "I can come back later, but I'm actually in town to help find what did this to him." He softened his words as he spoke and tried his best to make the mother comfortable.

"I can talk now," she mumbled as she absently wiped at her eyes. She looked back at her daughter and lightly motioned toward the door. The daughter averted her eyes from Y/N and went inside without a word.

The mother began, "She's young; young ears, young heart. I don't want her to hear about him like this."

"I fully understand, miss," he replied. "Would you like to sit down?" She nodded and sat down on the front bench, and he followed suit.

"She found him, you know? He was already cold to the touch. She found him just- just ripped apart. I can't- I don't know what will help you."

"It's alright. We can take this slow. Can you tell me how she found him? As long as you're comfortable." She gave a small smile in response before waiting a moment.

"He was... his body was- it was unrecognizable. His neck was so shredded it was hardly there anymore. Blood was just everywhere. My daughter, Abby, she screamed so loud I could hear her all the way here."

"Where did she find him?"

"The church. He'd gone to pray. He was always so religious, and he always felt better praying on personal manners at the church."

"Is there anything else you think I should know?"

"It isn't relevant, really. I just- hm- he had a necklace on him when he died. We couldn't find it. Could you- if it isn't too much trouble- could you retrieve it for me?"

"I can try my best, miss. Thank you for talking: I know it's hard. May he rest in peace, and I give you my best wishes moving forward." He nodded to her and went to stand. She frailly grabbed his arm so he couldn't leave yet.

Y/N, slightly taken aback by such a gesture, looked down at her. Her eyes were overflowing with tears.

"Thank you, young man. I know the mayor has a reward, but thank you nonetheless. I want him to be able to rest knowing what killed him can't hurt Abby. He wouldn't want us afraid to go to church either." She smiled through her tears and pat his arm reassuringly. Y/N smiled back even though he was uncomfortable with the contact and politely made his exit.

Geralt was in the town square already, and Y/N was eager to meet up with him. They exchanged information, and Geralt seemed pleased with what he had learned.

Y/N stated, "I think we should go to the church." Geralt agreed with a minimal 'hm.'

The town was small, and the church's steeple was easy to spot. They made their way to the church, and both noted the overwhelming stature of the building. Y/N was observing the exterior when Geralt decided he was ready to venture inside.

"I'm going to go around the back first. I'll meet you inside, yeah?" Y/N asked.

Geralt nodded and went inside. Y/N was quick to go to the back of the church. The cemetery he came across was shaded with large trees, and dusk was fast approaching. He surveyed the looming church despite the darkness that enveloped it. Something was notably off, but he couldn't place it. When he did, it was already too late.

What he had presumed to be a disgustingly distasteful gargoyle was really a monster in wait. As it swooped down, Y/N grabbed his sword in a panic.

"Fuck! Geralt! Garkain!" was all he could say before the beast was upon him. It went straight for his neck, and he narrowly avoided it. He slashed at the thing, but it wasn't a good blow.

It came at him again, but this time he landed a perfect jab into it's forearm. It screeched in pain before swinging at Y/N. The force of the impact sent him sprawling and left deep scratches on his bicep. The pain made him drop his sword, and it fell out of his reach.

He groaned on the ground before something caught his eye. The necklace. As he processed that, the monster materialized above him. Gathering his strength, he grabbed the silver knife off his thigh and threw himself onto the garkain.

It took a couple tries, but he swung the beast onto the ground and stabbed his dagger into it's heart. Blood splattered onto his face and shirt as the garkain writhed underneath him.

Once the movement stopped, he slid off the corpse and onto the bloody dirt next to it. He laid there, panting, when Geralt showed up. He looked down at the out-of-breath Y/N.

"I guess you can hold your own."

"Yeah," Y/N breathed, "show a little respect." He smiled and laughed.

Geralt offered a hand to help him up, and Y/N happily took it. After he was on his feet, Y/N caught his breath and scanned the area for the necklace. The chain was broken, but the cross charm was still intact. Geralt seemed questioning, but he didn't say anything.

"This belonged to the man who got killed. His wife wants it back." Geralt nodded.

Y/N silently smeared the blood off his face, collected his shed weaponry, and assessed his wound. Geralt sat next to him collecting the thing's saliva and eventually beheading it to present for the reward.

"Wanna meet back at the pub? We can get back to our horses to take to the inn. You can get the bounty tonight to pay for our stay. Maybe it'll just be free. I don't know. I'm ready to get clean and sleep."

Geralt wordlessly left, and Y/N started the journey back to the house of the woman. He placed the necklace across the flowers he contributed earlier. After taking a moment to pay his respects, he walked back to the pub.

Geralt was still gone, and Y/N could hardly keep himself awake. He knew he needed to clean his wound, but he couldn't find it in himself to get out his medical kit. He slid down the exterior wall of the pub until he was sitting on the ground. The dark night faded before him, and before he could stop himself, he was asleep.

Chapter 5: Nothing But Financial Pursuits

When Y/N woke up, it was already morning. Adrenaline pumped through him as he rushed to sit up, but the panic quickly subsided as he realized he was no longer outside. As his heartbeat stabilized, the adrenaline faded and left him with a pounding headache.

He looked around the room to see Geralt asleep in the other bed parallel to his own. Geralt must have been the one who brought him inside. Had he carried him all the way here? And was Biscuit brought to these stables? He wanted the answers, but he thought it would be best to let Geralt wake naturally. Plus, Geralt had a horse of his own, and he seemed fond enough of Roach to take good care of her and Biscuit.

With a stretch, he realized that his arm had also been bandaged in the night. It hurt like a bitch, but he knew it would heal with some time and rest.

Time. Something he didn't have much of. That's probably something that would annoy the Witcher. Geralt healed quickly, so having a human counterpart would only slow him down on that front.

Y/N shook his head as though that would shake his self-doubt. He didn't need to start stressing himself out this early in their little agreement. It was only day three. He had enough time to prove himself. Hell, he practically did all the work on this contract.

It struck Y/N that Geralt could have done that intentionally. Maybe it was a test. If it was, he aced it.

Geralt stirred as Y/N's thoughts trailed off. Both of the men seemed tired after the busy day they had previously. Y/N's eyes darted away as Geralt rose shirtless from his bed. Y/N then noticed, to his embarrassment, that he was also shirtless. It made sense. Letting a man sleep in blood-stained clothes wasn't the most sanitary.

Geralt was clothed by the time Y/N was done processing their circumstances, and Y/N was soon up and ready for the day.

They ate breakfast in silence. The meal wasn't good if Y/N was honest with himself, but it was better than nothing. He was never one for porridge.

It was decided between the two of them that they would leave the next day. The bounty they had bagged was rather hefty, especially for the job, and the two didn't feel like camping out in the woods if they didn't have to.

Y/N ordered a bath once their coin was divvied up. He felt disgusting after the fight he had. The water in the bathhouse was hot and pleasant. Leaving his injury out of the water, he melted into the heat before scrubbing the dried blood from himself. When he removed the bandage from his arm, he found the area already cleaned. He was thankful that this wasn't the first cleaning it had received. The pain still made him grit his teeth just the same. The gashes were much deeper than he thought.

Emerging from the bathhouse a new man, he decided it would be good to hit the shops for some goods. He didn't need anything, but it was nice to pick up some interesting perfume or seasoning from time to time.

To his disappointment, nothing caught his eye, and he returned to the room he shared with Geralt empty-handed.

Geralt was lounging in his bed when Y/N returned. Y/N was hesitant to start a conversation with him. He didn't know if Geralt wanted to be left alone, or if he was even the talking type.

Going for it, he asked, "did you carry me here by yourself last night?"

Geralt gave his seemingly common "hm" and left it at that.

"Did you get my horse from the pub? And did you give her water?"

"Yes," Geralt responded. "I fed her, too."

Y/N beamed. "Thank you! That's great." His words were genuine, and Geralt's face changed to express something Y/N couldn't quite place. Not pushing Geralt to elaborate, Y/N simply curled up in his own bed. He could hear Geralt get up and leave, and realized he may have to get used to being lonely on this trip.

---

Y/N woke up to Geralt and a plate of dinner. He had slept straight through lunch, so he was thankful for the food.

Geralt seemed sheepish as he approached the door to leave again.

"Why don't you stay?" Y/N chuckled. "I don't bite you know."

Geralt hesitated before sitting down. He looked contemplative for a moment.

"I heard you," he began, "when you yelled last night. I couldn't get there in time."

Y/N tilted his head a little. "That's okay. I could handle it. I've fought beasts like that before."

"You still got hurt," Geralt grumbled.

"You have plenty of scars. I'm sure each of them has a story. I have my fair share of stories, too, and this doesn't hold a candle to most of them. I'm fine." Y/N gave a warm, reassuring smile.

Geralt nodded and sat there in silence for a moment. He stood to leave, and Y/N didn't try to stop him this time. It seemed Geralt would need coaxed out of his shell, and Y/N was okay with that. He could earn his friendship just like he earned his respect.

He couldn't tell if that objective was on behalf of his financial pursuits or his personal interests, but he opted for the former. Much like Geralt, Y/N wasn't one much for attachment. The deal they made was a transaction, and it was imperative that it remained that way. Y/N knew better than to make that mistake again.

Chapter 6: Eymier

When Y/N gets out of bed the following morning, his headache is throbbing and leaves him with a foggy mind. He eats the same slimy porridge as the day before, and he regrets it when the nausea sets in while he is tacking up Biscuit. Biscuit is an intuitive horse, but she doesn't seem too bothered by Y/N's state. She is far more fixated on the prospect of finally getting to stretch her legs.

Geralt seems less than bothered by the morning he's had. The weather is gorgeous by Witcher standards. Fall is coming to a close as the wind starts to pick up with a notable winter chill, and Geralt appreciates the shift since he always runs warm.

They are on the road within an hour. It is agreed to just focus on getting to the base of the mountain first. It isn't a terrible distance as the town is hardly elevated on the slope, so they are done by mid afternoon.

The river of Yelena is not too far off, so they decide to go to the port city where the river meets the sea. Y/N frequents the spot for the never-ending markets and the good gossip on contracts he may be able to pursue.

By the time they do reach the river, they only have a few hours of daylight left to travel. Y/N feels exhausted from the ride and repeatedly catches himself nodding off. Buttercups consistent strides are enough to soothe him, but the uneven terrain still manages to jolt him awake. He doesn't know if he is appreciative for remaining awake or not, but as they set up camp he is more than done for the day.

Geralt seems to notice the change in Y/N's character. He is not used to such a quiet and reserved demeanor from him, but they haven't known each other long enough for him to decide if that is good or bad.

Y/N falls asleep before even eating dinner.

He wakes up, soaked in sweat, before dawn. His clothes are clinging to his body and his hair is slicked down to his forehead. Whether it is nightmares or something to do with his injury, he can't tell. With a glance in Geralt's direction, Y/N eases himself back into his blankets and tries to fall back asleep.

When he wakes up again with a start, it is to Geralt shaking him. The morning is far past, and the sun is already almost to the center of the sky.

"We need to get going. If we leave now, we can make it to the city before nightfall," Geralt says, and Y/N is shocked at how he hardly seems annoyed.

"I'm sorry I overslept. I don't know why I'm so tired, but you can wake me up whenever next time." Insecurity shoots through him as he thinks about how long Geralt must have waited for him to wake up, the annoyance he must feel. "I really am sorry."

A simple "hm" is all Geralt responds, but Y/N can't seem to find any malice in the action. Geralt just seems very uncomfortable with an apology. He is thankful for that, but if Geralt is to keep wanting his company, he hopes his body can get back into its regular rhythm. He usually doesn't have to recover like this after a fight.

They do make it to the city before nightfall, and Y/N is keen to get more rest. His body is too hot, and his head is full of cotton when they are searching for an inn.

Unfortunately, nearly every inn in the city is out of rooms, or they mysteriously run out of space when they see a witcher. After an hour of heedless work, they stumble upon one inn with a vacancy.

The inn is less than optimal. The place stinks of past visitors and drunkards vomit. To put it mildly, the place is putrid. Even Y/N, in his slightly concerning state, acknowledges the disgusting setting.

"Fuck," Geralt's face scrunches at the smell, "might as well sleep in a fucking brothel."

Y/N laughs. "I think that would be better than this." To Y/N's pleasure, and surprise, Geralt lets out a hardly perceptible chuckle.

They unpack in silence and get comfortable in their respective beds. Both parties try to ignore the squalor and suspicious sounds of the night as they sleep. It doesn't take long for Y/N to drift off, but he once again wakes up in the night. He stirs more gently this time, feeling better after having a decent amount of rest.

He glances over to see Geralt sleeping soundly a few feet away from him. Geralt's beauty is more obvious when he sleeps. His face is relaxed and reveals his features more tenderly. Y/N feels bad about admiring him sleeping, and decides to try to force himself to rest once again. It doesn't take very long, but his dreams are peppered with nearly angelic images of the Witcher.

 

In the morning, he feels bad for the dreams. He tells himself it isn't his fault his subconscious conjured such things and brushes off the thoughts.

Today, they are to find a contract. The city is bustling with activity and crime before brunch is even past. Y/N feels like he remembers the city more romantically than he should. Trash lines the streets, pick pockets run rampant, and the fisherman leave fish innards wherever they damn please. The stench alone is enough to drive someone away.

They do, however, still manage to find a couple leads on contracts throughout the day. Most importantly, they discovered that there is supposedly a siren posse in the area. Geralt is hesitant to believe so. The luck of being in the right place at the right time to earn easy coin was enough to deter him, but, furthermore, people are dumbasses. He had heard of plenty of sirens in his day. More often than not, they weren't really sirens. Even more commonly, they weren't even monsters. Y/N agreed.

As they are on their way to verify this siren claim, Y/N catches a glimpse of someone in the crowd. His brain hardly processes the face, and his body hustles forward to avoid interaction.

Eymier, a man he never hoped to see again, was in town.

 

Geralt and Y/N are shocked when they realize there are actually sirens on the coast. The contract offers far more coin than their previous hunt, and the two men can't help but feel pleased when they make agreements to kill the beasts. They go back to the inn contentedly and begin plans on their attack on the siren group.

Sirens have many attributes that make them difficult to fight, so the two decide it would be best to arm themselves a bit more than their previous fight. Geralt will bring his crossbow to ground the sirens. If the pack is too large, they will have to fight tooth and nail, but the reports they received estimated a pack of only a few. All they have to do is land a couple bolts and kill the sirens off one by one. They're a nasty crew together, but, individually, they shouldn't be too hard to exterminate.

Y/N goes to bed hopeful for the coming day. His body still feels off from the previous fight. He feels better overall than he did the day prior, but his wound looks worse. He tries his best to think about the upcoming fight instead of his health when he goes to bed.

Tomorrow, he will prove himself to the witcher once again.

Chapter 7: Fever

Y/N sleeps through the night and wakes up with a fever that consumes all of his attention. He spends the morning hiding this from Geralt as they get ready to head out. Geralt seems oblivious to Y/N's pain, and Y/N is endlessly thankful for that. They quickly go over their predetermined plan as they grab the last of their weaponry before leaving the inn.

They make their journey to the bay in a silence that is unusual for the duo. Geralt casts Y/N a few worried glances here and there, but he makes no attempt to start conversation. Meanwhile, Y/N is trying to hide the sweat pouring down his face and through his shirt.

When they arrive, the bay is silent and deserted. Anyone who has a lick of sense is somewhere far away from the vicious women hidden below the docks. Signs declaring the danger of the sirens are scattered along any beam they could possibly be attached to. A few posters blow across the cobbled roads as they approach the shore.

The sounds of their footsteps aren't hidden by the ambient noise of the sea, stones, and loose papers. As soon as they approach the rickety docks, they can hear the thrashing of tails underneath. Soon enough, a beautiful siren emerges. She plays enticingly in the water for a moment, displaying beautiful features and radiant scales, before realizing that one of the figures she heard on the dock is a Witcher. The change is instantaneous.

Six more sirens appear from under the dock with teeth bared and hideous faces pulled back into menacing snarls. They thrash in the water before moving up to the rocks on the shore. Their forms are covered in seafoam as they continue up the steep incline. Y/N grabs a bolt from his side quiver, nocks the arrow, and cocks the crossbow he has in anticipation.

The sirens make quick work when they see the glint of the Witcher's crossbow in Y/N's hands. Three of them are in the sky before Geralt can even let out an annoyed "fuck."

Y/N, to his own surprise, makes quick work of one of the sirens in flight, hitting her dead in the chest with his first bolt. Geralt takes his chance to jolt forward and stab her through the heart while she's down. The rest of the clan begins to scream as they realize what he's done. Another bolt into another siren as Geralt slashes at one of the mourning sirens still on the ground.

Behind him, two more sirens take flight as the injured one falls. Geralt finishes off the one he slashed at before looking up to see a very pissed of siren coming down to slash at him. She nicks his face as he swings at her with his sword.

"Y/N," Geralt shouts somewhat annoyed.

"I know, Geralt," Y/N responds deadpan. He is too focused to try to sound pleasant. Y/N grounds two more sirens, but his hands are starting to shake and slip from the sweat accumulated on the trigger and foregrip. His blurry vision cuts his accuracy down terribly. He realizes the trouble he's in when he can't process what Geralt is doing anymore. It takes seven bolts for him to get two more sirens on the ground. Adrenaline is forcing blood through him that is deafening in his ears, and he can feel the throb of his fevered head.

The seventh siren is somewhere, and she's so loud. Absently he processes that she must be close behind him, her voice nearly upon him. Y/N falls down onto a knee, and the crossbow falls from his hands despite his best efforts. He realizes where she is only when she takes a chunk out of his shoulder with one of her talons, and he feels the cobble bash against his skull and nose as he falls face-forward onto the road.

 

Y/N's brain feels like it's pressing into his eyes. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as clearly as he can hear Geralt's labored breathing. He opens his eyes to see the world upside-down, and he lets his eyelids slip shut again. His stomach feels queasy, and he lurches forward as he prepares to vomit. Geralt is holding him firmly in a fireman's carry, and Y/N wiggles in discomfort as he tries to get away.

Y/N whimpers out a small "Geralt" to no avail. Geralt continues unaffected.

"Geralt," he tries again. "I'm going to puke. Please."

With a grumble, the Witcher lets him down. Y/N vomits on the side of the road, and he feels Geralt catch him just in time as he faintly falls forward toward the mess.

 

When Y/N stirs again, he is horizontal. He feels the pressure on his back from the stretched fabric he's laying on. He assumes he must be on some sort of cot, but he doesn't have the will to open his eyes and check. Everything aches. His head feels swollen, and his shoulder is heavily bandaged where he was wounded. His injuries from his previous fight feel much better, and he wonders how long he's been asleep.

It takes a few minutes before he has the courage to open his eyes. It's nighttime, and they aren't at the inn.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice comes out cracked and dry. He resolves himself to sit in silence a moment. He can't make out much in the dark room, but he tries to make out his surroundings. That's when he sees Geralt.

He is sitting looking down at Y/N with an unreadable expression.

Y/N fears for the worst. This is it. Geralt is going to tell him their time is up. He must have been such a hassle in this state. He feels tears prick at his eyes immediately, and his heart picks up.

"Don't do that again," Geralt says with a small sigh. His tone is just as neutral as his face.

"Geralt, I'm so," Y/N's voice wavers as his tears start falling from his eyes. He doesn't know if it is the pain he is in or what he is feeling that makes him cry, but he feels pathetic as his voice catches. "I really am sorry. I was trying to help. I'm usually better than-"

Geralt raises his hand in a gesture of silence, and Y/N stops midsentence. He lets out little choked sobs. He realizes he is probably on some sort of magical drug or other to help with his healing. He hopes that's why he feels this way.

Geralt wordlessly grabs Y/N's hand and holds it before resting his forehead on their entwined fingers.

His voice is already quiet when he speaks, and it is even more muffled since he's speaking toward the ground. Despite this, Y/N still hears a faint "just be careful" before he nods off again.

Chapter 8

Y/N wakes up the next morning feeling disoriented, his memories coming back to him like shadows materializing in the fog. Everything before the fight is fairly clear, but most everything else is lost to him despite his best efforts. The thoughts in his mind are fading in and out like the waves as his body tries to pull him back to the comfortable depths of sleep, but the smell and taste of salt is still vivid. It grounds him, keeps him present with his body. It's as though the ocean is more real to him than the beaten vessel he possesses. The image of the waves is hardly noticeable when the rest of his senses are being flooded. The sensation of gritty sand stuck to his palms and the ghost of mist gracing his skin are so real to him that he momentarily doubts his presence in the worn cot.

Unfortunately, the illusion doesn't last long. Sleep finally fades away from him completely and he is left to feel the events of the past day. His whole body has a dull ache that comes to a tempest at the pulsing throb in his temples. He can only feel relief that the memory of his injury is absent. The bruises and scratches along his body tell a story unsavory at best. At the thought, he mentally assesses his body for injury. A subtle ache in his throat and the lingering taste of bile is the only surprising sensation he comes across, and he momentarily thinks about asking for the details of that event when Geralt arrives before dismissing the thought.

Geralt appears through the door shortly after, holding Y/N's clean clothes. All questions he has about the previous day fall away in the face of processing how naked and vulnerable he feels. Y/N knows he can ask Geralt to piece the previous day together for him, but Geralt's mouth is set in a thin line, brows knit together in something more reminiscent of annoyance than worry. Y/N is thankful that the blanket acts as some sort of barrier between Geralt and himself. He still feels exposed to critique under Geralt's cool gaze despite this small comfort.

"The healer says you can leave," Geralt says with his stereotypical monotone cadence. "We need to be on our way."

Y/N nods dumbly. His head feels like it is full of gauze. How is he supposed to get home in this state? Geralt seems to sense his trepidation, and his gaze softens minimally. As Y/N staggers out of bed in nothing but his drawers, Geralt helps him get dressed without comment. This is a kindness Y/N appreciates as a light blush feigns his cheeks. He is well aware that Geralt can probably see it, but he hopes it can be chalked up to his fever.

Y/N is glad to be in clean clothes. He doesn't want to have to walk home in a set of bloody garb with his obvious injuries and confusion. He feels weak once again, especially in the eyes of the witcher. He could unpack the weight that that had on him on a later date when he could think about anything other than his maladies and the impending journey to his next resting place.

Geralt doesn't speak to him again on the slow walk back to the inn. His body language is uninterpretable as Y/N struggles to keep up with his steadfast pace. All attempts at small talk are foiled by meager grunts in response. Geralt doesn't even muster enough effort for one of his regular monosyllabic responses.

Y/N begins to wonder if he did something terribly offensive the day before. He had obviously done something that caused him to get injured, but was it so terrible of a mistake that Geralt will hardly even acknowledge him because of it? He decides not to question it any further. This is not because he is no longer curious about the source of Geralt's displeasure, but instead that he is so aware of that displeasure that he can't get himself to possibly worsen the situation.

He feels a pang in his heart that has nothing to do with his injury. He ignores the urge to ponder the meaning of that as well, another thing to think about at a later date.

As they walk through the town they see the familiar signs on inn after inn about the lack of vacancies. Y/N is quickly losing strength as his legs become shaky. Geralt may notice, but he says nothing. Although he isn't willing to admit it, Y/N wishes he would notice; he wants to be carried again. He feels like his body is moving on without him, leaving his mind far behind them in the healer's cot.

When they arrive to an inn that does have vacancies, the staff is spread thin, bustling about with armfuls of linens and other amenities. One particularly stressed worker is quickly retrieving items to prepare the bathhouse for a guest, and Y/N feels a pang of jealousy for the lucky person who has already found comfort here. He wants to skip checking in and paying. He wants to follow the worker through the halls and sit in the warm bath himself.

Y/N glances up to see faint annoyance appear in Geralt's eyes as the two continue to wait for assistance at the front desk, but he knows well the annoyance is mainly aimed at the lack of selection in rooms displayed prominently in the sparse rack of keys behind the desk. It takes a few minutes, but one of the workers finally claims his place behind the desk. Y/N studies Geralt's body to see if he also notices the worker's pitiful state. His hair is slicked to his forehead with sweat and the tiredness that radiates from him is palpable. Y/N is pleased when Geralt finds it in himself to be kind to the man despite the circumstances they had endured through the day.

"We're looking for a room with two beds," Geralt says with as much patience as he can convey.

The man behind the desk pales. "We only have one room left, and it is a one bed room."

Geralt's face is inscrutable as he glances down at Y/N. Something about Y/N must make him concerned because he responds to the man, "We'll take it."

Y/N blushed as the man glances between the two, his brow ever so slightly quirked.

"We're not-" Y/N began before the worker cut him off.

"None of my business. What you do in our rooms has nothing to do with me."

Geralt hands the man their payment with the most imperceptible smirk as the man hands him a worn key.

Y/N blushes all the way to the room. Once they place their few belongings down, he finally musters up the courage to ask why Geralt was fine with such a little room.

"You look a moment away from collapse, Y/N. I'll take the floor."

"That's not necessary. I'm fine to sleep on the floor."

"It wasn't a suggestion."

The blush on Y/N's face deepens as the dominance in that statement pulls at the bottom of his stomach. He looks away and makes himself busy by uselessly remaking the already made bed. As he looks at the scratchy sheets, he thinks about how tired he already is. They had left the healer's much later in the day than Y/N had thought, but it is still early in the evening. It isn't even dinnertime yet.

He sits down at the foot of the bed to regain a little bit of strength, but Geralt can read him easily in this state.

"You need to eat before you go to bed."

"I will," Y/N replies. "I'll get up in a bit." He pulls at the tucked in covers and removes his shoes and socks.

"You won't get back up."

Y/N gives a weak, "I will," as he tucks himself under the sheets. His eyes are already beginning to pull closed. The last thing he hears before he surrenders to sleep is a deep sigh of annoyance from Geralt.

 

Geralt lightly shakes Y/N's shoulder to wake him. Light filters in through the hazy windows and settles on the highlights of Geralt's face, casting dramatic shadows on the rest of his figure. There's a candle at his night stand, and the furnace in the room has been stoked to produce a calming heat. Y/N looks back at Geralt in confusion.

Geralt holds up a bowl of soup. "You need to eat."

Y/N is too tired to protest verbally, but his body refuses to cooperate nonetheless. His clammy hands clutch too loosely at the wooden bowl to even grasp it, let alone hold it. Geralt looks down at Y/N's shaking hands, the sweat coating his body, and the redness in his face. He sets the soup down on the night stand and looks at Y/N seriously.

"You should have asked for help today," he states. "I didn't realize you were still so unwell. I paid the healer enough that I thought you'd be fine today."

Y/N feels like shit, but his heart starts racing at the thought of burdening Geralt like this. "Fuck. I didn't even think about paying. I'll pay you back when we get our payment for the sirens. I'm so sorry." His voice sounds so weak as it wavers.

Geralt places an uncharacteristically reassuring hand on Y/N's forehead as he feels for his temperature. His mouth turns downwards into a slight frown.

"You're still running a fever. I already got the payment when I retrieved our things from the inn yesterday after I took you to the healer. They didn't want me in the way." Geralt is once again unreadable, but his willingness to divulge information without prompting catches Y/N off guard. "I'm going to help you eat. Sit up."

Y/N tries his best to sit up, but in the end, Geralt has to help him prop himself up against the wall. He spoon feeds Y/N despite Y/N's repeated, failed efforts to feed himself. When he finally gives up and allows Geralt full control, he justifies it with hopes he won't remember this tomorrow. Finishing the soup is a lengthy process, but the stew is mostly broth. Y/N doesn't have to focus on chewing too much. When the food is done, Geralt sets the bowl and spoon back down onto the nightstand.

"I'm going to get a bowl of cold water and a cloth for your head. Stay where you are."

Geralt stands and gathers the dishes before leaving the room. He does return with what he had aimed to retrieve, and he quickly prepares the cloth for Y/N.

Geralt pauses and asks, "Can you take your clothes off yourself? You shouldn't be wearing so much when you're burning up."

Y/N's blush blends in with his heat-stricken face. He nods and begins to try to take off his clothes himself. The thinner fabrics are stuck to his skin with sweat. His bruises and swollen flesh contort painfully as he tries to navigate off his shirt. He looks up at Geralt expecting impatience or annoyance. Geralt's look is instead strangely kind. The sun has set by this point, but the candlelight leaves a warm glow on Geralt that makes his sincerity all the more attractive.

"I- I need help," Y/N finally admits after fumbling with his clothes for too long.

Geralt says nothing. He helps untie any fixtures on the clothes and unbutton others. When it is necessary to make more contact with Y/N's skin, he tries to be sensitive to it. His knuckles graze over Y/N's sides as he slides his shirt off. His pants are more difficult to take off as Geralt has to take the blankets off of Y/N first, his palms run over his thighs this time. When Y/N is in nothing but his underclothes, Geralt slides only the sheet back over him.

Y/N is exhausted by the effort of simply cooperating. He mumbles when he talks, but Geralt can make out the small thanks and appreciative comments throughout the process. Geralt begins wiping the sweat away from Y/N's face before refreshing the clothe and placing it on his forehead. Y/N's eyes stay on Geralt's face as he does so, observing the calming flicker of the candle on Geralt's weary face. He must be tired, too.

Y/N smiles, and whispers, "you're beautiful." Geralt makes no reaction, frozen in place, but Y/N is so close to sleep that he hardly even notices.

"Sleep now," Geralt says. "We'll see how you're doing tomorrow morning." Y/N doesn't respond, but he takes the request as permission to finally let his body pull him back into sleep once again.

Chapter 9: Body Heat

Geralt's demeanor is more solemn this morning, leaving him in a silence so deep it's uncharacteristic even of him. Y/N can't tell if he's misreading the situation. Geralt could be angry, but he could also be contemplating something more pressing than what they're going to do with the day. Y/N hopes Geralt isn't thinking about parting ways. It would perhaps be fair after all that has happened; Y/N can't even remember how the fight ended yesterday.

They eat their breakfast in the same somber silence as they got up to, but Geralt keeps casting subtle, unusual glances toward Y/N. His face is as inquisitive as may be possible for him. His brows are subtly quirked, and his mouth is ever so slightly pressed into a line.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Geralt," Y/N says with a heavy conscious.

Geralt looks up from his food before glancing straight back down into his bowl. He is quiet. Once again, the silence is expected, but the delay before his response unsettles Y/N nonetheless.

"You're fine. At least we don't have to go back to the healer."

Y/N's head tilts. "What do you mean go back? Did you take me last night?"

Geralt stares for a moment, seeming to calculate his next words, or maybe he is just taking a while to chew his food. His eyes seem to pierce through Y/N instead of simply looking at him. "You went the night before. We came to this inn from the healer's practice yesterday. Do you not remember?"

Y/N feels heat creep up his neck and onto his face, which blossoms into a deep, blushing red. Anxiety scratches at his throat and steals his words for a moment. He doesn't remember at all. He feels relatively good this morning. He thought he had only fainted the day before, and Geralt had to carry him to this inn. The walls sway as an uneasiness seizes him, bringing a welling headache to his tender head.

"I- no, I don't remember," he says. He looks down at his body. When he was getting ready this morning, the bruises had appeared to him with an overwhelming presence, and he thought they had looked older than they should. Never did the thought cross his mind that that is because he is missing a whole day he'd had to heal.

"Are we..." Y/N loses his confidence, "are we going to stick together after this?"

That gets Geralt's attention. The statement itself seems to jolt Geralt's face upward as he looks Y/N in his eyes, Y/N's beautiful e/c eyes. It takes a moment for him to gain composure as he clears his throat and lowers his eyebrows to their rightful place.

"Yes, but you can't keep lying. You could have gotten yourself killed."

The phrasing catches both of them off guard. Get Y/N killed? It is dangerous for Geralt, too. Why are his priorities elsewhere? Why are his priorities on a human who nearly blackmailed him into traveling together? Y/N feels the odd sensation of butterflies in his stomach and smothers them with another mouthful of breakfast to distract himself.

Y/N replies, "I'll keep that in mind." Together, they finish breakfast in a more comfortable quietness. The peace allows both of them to focus on contemplation that quickly consumes them both. Geralt seems more preoccupied than Y/N has ever seen him, and Y/N is so busy trying to decipher the feelings he is having for Geralt at the moment that he can hardly even pretend to be doing anything else.

Y/N wants to say something. He can ask Geralt about his odd behavior, but he doubts he'll get anything that resembles the truth. He resolves to avoid the topic, but one thing has made itself abundantly clear throughout the course of the morning. It's obvious why he can feel the butterflies in his stomach and the urge to pull himself closer to Geralt at every turn.

Y/N L/N is in love with Geralt of Rivia, and Y/N can only think one thing. Fuck.

When they finish up and start heading back to the room, Y/N finds it in himself to rekindle their ability for discussion.

"Do you know where we want to head next?"

Geralt thinks for a moment. "When I got the coin for the sirens, I was told about some issues across the delta."

Y/N nods in agreeance and understanding that that is where they should go next. Despite his newfound strength, he doesn't want to talk much more than necessary. His mind is still so occupied by Geralt and the way his eyes crinkle when he talks.

When they get to their room, Y/N expects them to pack up to go, but Geralt doesn't seem to be under a similar impression.

"Should we, uh," Y/N begins, "shouldn't we head out today? Even the nearest town past the delta is quite a ways out."

Geralt responded, "If you're up for it, we can head out. I don't want you getting sick."

Y/N's heart starts beating a little faster. Geralt notices. "I think I'll be okay. I don't feel too bad."

Geralt gives him a dubious look. His skin seems flushed with heat, and his heart is beating faster than it should be. After the conversation they had just had, he feels comfortable enough to brush off the feeling in hopes that Y/N is telling the truth like he'd promised he would. Plus, Geralt is ready to be back on the road.

They saddle their horses with a more complacent peace over the both of them. Geralt is starting to question Y/N's assertion that he is okay. His mind seems so distant like it had when the fever was starting to take over the day before. The concern he feels seems so odd, pulling at his heartstrings in a way he is unfamiliar with. He knows what pity feels like and concern for an associate, but this feels so notably different. Maybe they are starting to be real friends. Geralt is shocked that such a thing could happen so fast. The brevity of their time together is very present in his mind and the assessment he is making of their relationship. This attachment is so bizarre for such a short period of time.

They're on the road before the sun gets too far into the sky. The warmth is appreciated and welcomed as it thaws out the dewy grass and the shivering human that rode next to Geralt.

Y/N's contemplation is largely fruitless. His mind loops through very few thoughts. The cycle starts at "Oh, my god, I think I like the witcher," to "What am I a teen girl? Why am I like this?" to "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He will not like that," before the thoughts inevitably return to their beginning.

As the day wears on, so does he. He feels exhausted by the heat at this point, as subtle as it is. He knows the night will be incredibly cold, but he knows they will be able to get a decent fire going before the temperature gets too severe. That thought alone motivates him to sit up a little straighter on his horse. He needs to stay focused. He doesn't even feel that sick anymore, but he feels like his mind is too occupied by Geralt to even ride a horse. The feeling strikes him as utterly ridiculous, but he can't seem to push the feelings far enough down to get rid of them.

The sun is setting slowly, and Geralt and Y/N are starting to scan for a good place to spend the night. Camping isn't the most fun, but finding a good spot can make it somewhat enjoyable. The land seems almost manicured, Y/N realizes. It is easy to find a decent plot of flat land to sleep on, but wood is sparse. The foliage seems all cleared away, the dew from the morning creeping back onto the grass and keeping any sort of viable tender wet enough to avoid being able to light. With the encroaching chill, that concerns Y/N. He is already so cold.

Geralt seems to sense Y/N's anxiety, so he is trying to keep an eye out for a decent place for a fire as well. His valiant efforts are to no avail. Even though they are both looking through the surrounding area with an intensity even a hawk would find impressive, night has fallen without the appearance of a single good camping site.

"Should we just stop now?" Y/N asks.

Geralt makes a small 'hmm' and pulls his horse off to the side of the trail. Where they are is certainly flat enough to be comfortable. The trees around include some young saplings that could easily be cut down, and they both figure they could manage to build a fire with that.

Y/N sets up camp while Geralt cuts down a couple of thin saplings and manages to scrounge up a minimal amount of sticks and twigs. He gathers them into a pile between their two sleep sacks and begins to form them into a little pyramid. The process of lighting the twigs goes relatively okay, but the green wood of the saplings doesn't catch fire. The warmth from the twigs doesn't even come close to heating the moisture out of them, either. This leaves Geralt with very few options for lighting the fire.

He is perfectly warm, but he can see Y/N shivering as he is setting up his bed.

"The fire," Geralt begins, "It won't catch. We don't have enough dry wood."

Y/N doesn't want to seem alarmed, but he knows what a sorry state he would be in if he would have to go a whole night without sleep and without a fire.

"Do you have anything in your pack that you can burn?" Y/N asks hopefully.

"No, I travel light. Do you have anything?"

"I don't have anything that would light long enough to dry out the wood."

"We could keep riding our way to the next town."

"We need to sleep. We wouldn't even make it to the town by the time morning rolls around."

"You're too cold to sleep without a fire." Geralt is concerned. He is also getting annoyed that they had just had this issue, Y/N not communicating his needs and making things worse. He thinks to himself that Y/N may deny it, try to tough it out. How could he expect anything else after all that has happened?

Y/N replies, "I know that." Geralt is mildly pleased with the unexpected truth.

They both look at the small whisps of smoke emitting from the now-extinguished fire.

"I'm sure we can scrounge up some more sticks," Y/N assures Geralt. Geralt only shakes his head in response. There is hardly anything around which is ridiculous for the autumnal weather at play.

"We could," Geralt pauses and weighs some wording in his mind, "sleep close together. I am warm."

Y/N looks up like a deer in headlights, a blush settling across his cheeks from embarrassment and the cold that is starting to sink into his skin.

"Are you sure about that?"

"What else is there to do?" Geralt responds. The question is rhetorical as there is no other real solution to this problem. They are too far from any town, and they need to eat and sleep. Having a fire would make dinner more enjoyable, but not having one just means they will have to eat cold rations. There is no other solution for no fire than for them to share a little body heat.

"I- do we- um," Y/N is nearly shaking, "how would you want to do that?"

Geralt tries to seem nonchalant as he replies, "We can just sleep on our bed rolls right next to each other, nothing too close."

The situation is so tense. It is just a conversation, so why should things feel this way? It is a standoff of who will make the first move. Geralt ends up being the first to do anything as he goes over to his horse and grabs some dried meats and a small portion of bread. Y/N follows suit and is thankful for Geralt's ability to move on as normal like they aren't about to sleep together. The horses are more vocal than the pair, and Buttercup tries her best to use this to her advantage to get a few treats.

As Y/N is giving her a little treat, he is thinking about how awkward tonight is going to be. It feels wrong to sleep so close to him when he has just realized he's into him. It feels... manipulative at best, but it is the only option for Y/N's health. Really, what else is he to do? Get sick again? They are too far from a healer to even chance it.

Geralt can sense the anxiety still, it roils off of Y/N's shoulders like he is about to face a beast he knows he will lose to. Maybe he just feels awkward. Geralt decides to make the first move to make him more comfortable.

He walks over to Y/N's bed roll and brings it over on his own. He presses the two of them together side-by-side. It crosses Geralt's mind that this may not even work. Being near Geralt would certainly supply some warmth, but the barrier of the blankets between the two may hinder that transfer. Absently, it crosses Geralt's mind that he can simply give Y/N his blankets and just sleep on the thinner part of his bedroll, but the thought is dismissed before it can even be fully realized.

He lays down on his bed roll and awkwardly motions for Y/N to come and lay down. Y/N sheepishly smiles and makes his way over.

He tucks himself in and slowly shimmies over to where he can feel Geralt's shoulder and bicep against his own through their blankets. Unfortunately, Geralt says nothing to ease the discomfort this puts Y/N in, but the thrill gives him a more delicious sensation than he would have preempted.

He tries his best not to press himself even the smallest bit closer to where Geralt lays, but Geralt can feel Y/N shivering from the small amount of contact they are making. Y/N appreciates the heat coming off of Geralt, but it isn't enough. Geralt isn't oblivious to that fact and takes it upon himself to get closer, but his movement is heavily restricted.

Geralt quietly asks, "Why don't you get in with me?"

Y/N resists the kneejerk reaction to say no and dumbly nods his head instead. He pulls himself out from under his covers and kneels next to Geralt before slipping in next to him. He can already feel the extra warmth and relaxes in his spot.

It is still a little cold, but Y/N doesn't want to ask to be closer. His heart is racing, and he knows that Geralt is able to tell. Y/N tries to focus on his breathing and thinking of other things to remain from getting flustered. That backfires when all of those deep breaths just bring in the cool air and the musky smell of Geralt.

However, the breathing exercise does make him more tired. He feels like he will be able to fall asleep soon. He tries to focus on the feeling of his clothes against his skin and the ambient sounds of the woods as he slowly drifts off.

He wakes up a few hours later, shivering like he is nearly frozen. He looks over and sees the shadow of Geralt's sleeping form, now rolled onto his side facing toward Y/N. He looks like he is at peace, and Y/N doesn't want to disturb him. Despite that, he still turns over and tucks himself next to Geralt, his back pressed against Geralt's chest. With the smallest of grumbles, Geralt puts his arm over Y/N in his sleep.

The pressure and warmth is so comforting that Y/N is asleep again almost instantaneously.

When he wakes again, it is nearly dawn. The woods are stirring as different creatures wake up and begin to move around in the foliage. Geralt is deeply asleep, his arm still slung over Y/N's side and holding him close to himself.

Y/N can't even find it in himself to be embarrassed in his exhausted state. He feels so cozy and at ease. Geralt is breathing steadily, occasionally pulling Y/N just a little bit closer or lightly grumbling about something or other. Y/N rests his head on Geralt's arm which it is tucked under him. It feels so nice, weirdly domestic for business partners. It is of no concern. Geralt is asleep doing these things, and they are only sleeping together for Y/N's health and well-being.

Geralt is the first one to wake up once the sun rises over the horizon. He feels the weight of Y/N on his arm and the pressure of his body against him before he even opens his eyes to see him fast asleep. His chest rises and falls steadily as he breathes in the cool morning air. Geralt looks down at where his arm has wrapped itself around the other man and tries his best to slowly move his arm away. Y/N makes small noises of protest in his sleep, but he ultimately is able to retrieve his arm. He doesn't know if he can remove his other arm so gracefully.

Y/N looks so peaceful, verging on beautiful in his ease. It feels wrong to wake him, so they stay like that for a while, laying up against each other in serenity. The morning seems to cradle the two with the trees in the sunlight, giving them their own little place in the world with each other. It is too much for Geralt. This man was nearly a complete stranger a little over a week ago before he twisted his arm into working with him, so why did he feel so indulgent staying here at this moment?

He slowly pulls his arm from under Y/N and gets up to get ready for the morning. Y/N pretends to stay asleep despite all the hustle, but Geralt can tell he is already partially awake from Geralt removing himself from the space next to him.

When Y/N does crawl out of bed, he seems out of it. It seems as though he slept well, though.

"Do you want to eat on the road?" Geralt asks as Y/N stretches and yawns.

"I think so. There's no point in eating here if we don't have a fire."

Geralt nods in acknowledgment before the two start packing away their meager belongings. As they pick up their bedrolls, they brush their knuckles against each other. Geralt tries to pretend he doesn't notice and that this definitely has no effect on him, and Y/N is busy trying not to read too much into the faraway look on Geralt's face afterward.