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“Geralt, when was the last time you slept?” Jaskier asked the Witcher as he ground up the contents of the bowl.
The White Wolf looked, honestly, like shit. He was a bit paler than usual, with healing cuts on his face, his hair was in disarray, and the bags under his eyes are more pronounced. Jaskier knows that Geralt has insomnia, he traveled with the bastard for 20 years, so he’s seen enough of his sleepless bouts.
The Witcher paused his grinding for just a second before getting back to it, pointedly avoiding Jaskier’s gaze.
“Geralt,” Jaskier set down the bowl he was holding, his blue eyes boring into the side of his friend's head.
“... awhile,” The Witcher answered softly, and he sounded so exhausted it felt like a punch in the gut to the bard. Geralt sighed, “Don’t know how long, just… awhile.”
The bard stared at the man that single-handedly owned his heart, the stubborn Witcher he loved so fucking much, he grabbed the mortar and set it down before gently cupping Geralt’s cheeks and turning his head so they could be face-to-face.
He smoothed his thumb over Geralt’s cheekbone, his other hand snaked around his head, and pulled it to his chest.
Geralt tensed for a moment, just a moment, before relaxing in Jaskier’s gentle embrace. His large hands reached up and held onto the bard's waist, resting his forehead on his dear friend's chest as he closed his eyes and listened to Jaskier’s humming.
After a few moments of silence, broken by the bards humming, he pulled back and looked into the Witcher’s golden eyes. “Come on,” He said softly, grabbing one of Geralt’s hands and pulling him to his feet. Jaskier took him outside to where Roach, Lazarus, and their packs were, the mare was munching on the grass, and Lazar was in cat form, curled up on Roach’s back.
“Jaskier,” Geralt cut himself off as he let the bard pull him down. He sat back against the tree and situated the Witcher to lay his head in his lap. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”
The bard cracked a smile at the White Wolf’s sleepy tone. “I am. Do you like it? I thought you would.”
“I do. I like it… a lot.” Geralt’s eyes began to shut, but he stubbornly kept them open. He didn’t wanna sleep…
“You need to sleep, dear heart,” Jaskier whispered, running his fingers through dirty white hair and pushing it out of Geralt’s face. Golden eyes fluttered closed as he breathed deeply, relaxing further under the bard's gentle touch. “You needn’t worry, I’ll be here.”
The Witcher caught one of Jaskier’s hands and oh so gently kissed his knuckles, he blearily opened his eyes and looked into the bards. “You’re always here. Always…” His eyes began to shut again as his bard's touch soothed him to sleep. “... love you.”
“I love you too, dear heart,” Jaskier smiled, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against Geralt’s forehead. He then began to sing a soothing melody, and Geralt finally slept.