A Witcher Fic- (Geralt, M)

[crazy_cat_girl]

It's been a long time since I've posted and a long time since I have written anything, fanfic or otherwise, so please excuse the rustiness!  Just wanted to share this little Wticher one-shot (?) with you all, featuring a sick Witcher and annoyingly caring bard!   Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  ;)  

❤️

 

Geralt?"

Jaskier's fingers stilled their ministration, spreading the medicinal herbs, as the chest beneath them sharply rose.  He looked up just in time to see the Geralt's head was thrown back, his nostrils posed open and quivering like two glistening caverns before--

"HHh'RRSHSHHHHHSHHHH!"

 

Jaskier jumped up, scrubbing his wet face with both sleeves.

 

"Gods, Geralt, that's disgusting! I know you aren't used to being ill, but frankly, I can't imagine not having picked up a single polite manner in your long life! I-I...you're insufferable!... You're...you're not even listening-"

 

"H'RGSHSHSHSHH!"

 

Geralt let out another deafening and entirely too wet sneeze over his poultice-covered chest. Two streams had appeared under his nose now and Jaskier felt a surge of begrudging pity.

 

"Must be the medicine is working," he said, sighing, and went to dig through his own satchel. "The apothecary did say it would 'clear you right up' and I suppose this would be that... Here!"

 

He produced a soft embroidered ladies' handkerchief, wiped his face with it once thoroughly, and then extended it to his suffering friend.

 

Breaths still quickening with yet another impending sneeze, Geralt narrowed his eyes at the offering in bewilderment.

 

"Oh, for...It's for your nose! You can't keep punishing that poor wool blanket with your...your humors! Your lovely nose is redder than my favorite doublet, the way you abuse it. You know, the one with the lace on the sleeves and the little ties-"

Geralt snatched the handkerchief from the bard's hand just in time to sneeze wretchedly all over Jasker's arm.

 

Jaskier squawked and leapt back, scrubbing the offended limb on his pants. He was shocked to look up and see Geralt's face move quiet huffs behind the handkerchief.

 

"You're...you're laughing? Ten years, a decade, I never see you once laugh and now you are nearly in full hysterics over...drowning me in your fluids! Remarkable!"

 

Geralt let out a real laugh then, just once, then set to work filling Jasker's fine handkerchief with his blowing. The bard shuddered at the sound.

 

"I have several others if you need another," he offered, though thoroughly nauseated.

 

"Hmm." Geralt considered the soft cloth. It definitely hurt less than the blanket. And he could once again breathe for the first time in nearly two days.

 

"Thank you," he said finally, voice impossibly deeper from his illness, " and... sorry. I really didn't mean to..."

 

He gestured towards Jaskier's face.

 

Jaskier sighed, hands on hips.

 

"It's alright," he said, "It's my fault for getting into striking range of your considerable...weapon. I suppose I'm not susceptible to any of your Witcher ills anyway, and even if I were, I have a constitution of iron, wrought by all of our endless adventuring and nights out on the road."

 

"Hmm."

 

Geralt watched as Jaskier pulled the kettle out of the hearth with a cloth and set about making a tea from the leaves the apothecary had sold them. Geralt was surprised to note he could actually smell it. The poultice had truly begun to "clear him out" as Jaskier had said. He felt his chest loosening as well and took a ragged but deep breath.

 

Jaskier perked up and watched him, concerned.

 

Geralt waved him off. "S'better."

 

"Better?" Jaskier beamed. "I am so glad, I was worried that it wouldn't be any help at all, you being you and everything."

 

Geralt watched him open another jar and scoop out a generous dollop of something amber and shiny with two fingers and plop it into the cup.

 

"Is that..?”

 

"Honey," Jaskier confirmed, stirring with his forefinger then putting it into his mouth and talking around it, "Good for your throat! An old singer's trick, my friend. Believe me, it works!"

 

He presented the cup to Geralt, deliberately standing a few feet away this time as he handed it over.

 

"Drink up! I am going to go and try and make us some coin. The tavern looked lively when I came through... travelers trying to get in out of the rain."

 

He picked up his lute and paused, looking the Witcher up and down once. Geralt bristled and sat up straighter, clutching the steaming cup.

 

"You'll be alright?"Jaskier asked.

 

Geralt shot him a withering look.

 

"it's just a chill," the witcher said."I've had worse." Much worse, in fact.

 

"Yes, but then you didn't have me to help you!" Jaskier replied. Throwing an infuriating chipper smile over his shoulder, he shut the door, leaving Geralt alone with his tea.

 

Geralt peered into the cup.  He sniffed it.

 

Honey was hard to come by and expensive. No wonder Jaskier was always short on coin. Short on brains, too, Geralt thought. He lifted the cup to his lips and sweetness flooded his senses. It had been a long time since he had savored something as frivolous and unnecessary as honey.

It did ease the ache in his throat a little, he had to admit. 

Not that Jaskier needed to know that.

 

❤️

[silentdreamer789]

Ooh, this is lovely!

[starpollen]

👆 same!

[ThatSneezyGirl]

This is so cute!!! 😍