"-and we're too low on money- I need to get medicine for my brothers, we need to restock the pantry, Yen needs those stabilizers for her and Ciri, you need salve for your hands, we need food for the horses, bandages for Lambert and Coën and Eskel and Vesemir-"
"Geralt! Geralt, calm down, love," Jaskier says, stepping in front of the pathway Geralt is pacing into the floor and delicately placing his hands on Geralt's cheeks. "You're going to work yourself into a panic at this rate, and who's going to benefit from that?"
Geralt had frozen in place the moment Jaskier touched him, hyper-careful of Jaskier's hands. He sighs, letting himself slouch marginally into the hold, cheeks getting squished enough to make him sound like a petulant child when he grumbles, "No one."
Jaskier breaks into a wide grin, one of his genuine ones, and pecks Geralt on the nose. "Exactly. Now sit down before you fall over, mother-hen."
"I'm not a mother-hen," Geralt grumbles, because he thinks he deserves to grumble quite a bit after everything he's been going through. "Eskel is a mother-hen. Lambert is a mother-hen. Vesemir and Bran are retired mother-hens. I worry about people a normal amount."
"It's very cute that you actually believe that, you great nag," Jaskier says fondly, pulling them to sit at the only remaining bench still standing in the main hall. Jaskier's been calling him a nag since they stayed to recover at a middle-aged couple's cottage for a week after a contract; the husband called his wife one at least ten times a day teasingly and never anything less than absolutely adoring when he said it.
Geralt always has to fight off a blush and feels extremely warm whenever Jaskier says it, because he's always forced to confront the fact that Jaskier and the husband have the same expression on their faces when they say it, and it makes his mind make very embarrassing associations.
He slumps forward further and rests his head on Jaskier's shoulder, sighing when familiar fingers reach up and pull out his ponytail, easing the pressure on his temples. He hadn't even realized how much his head had been hurting until the tension released.
"Dear heart," Jaskier laughs fondly, which is another endearment Geralt is glad he's looking away for. He resettles them into a more comfortable position and starts massaging Geralt's temples with his palms. "You need to take a break."
"Who's going to hold up the building, then?" Geralt mumbles grumpily, biting down on the shoulder in front of him. It's relaxing and Jaskier doesn't even seem to register it as he laughs louder, so he leaves his teeth in.
"Well, I've pulled myself together enough to manage for a bit," Jaskier tells him, sounding amused. "You go get all our stuff from the village and lug it up the unnecessarily dangerous pathway to your house, and then take a nice, long nap. I can hold the fort till then, I think. Your penchant for getting yourself torn to pieces, handing me a needle and passing out has come in great practical use, I've found."
Geralt huffs a laugh, eyes closed and enjoying Jaskier's hands in his hair, chasing the headache away.
"How much do we need?" Jaskier asks, voice serious.
Geralt grunts. "Twice of what we have, at least. I could take some contracts- nobody's gone down in a few weeks, something must have popped up by now. And the next town would definitely have some, but that's a two day walk- I can't risk hurting Roach."
"I can handle three days," Jaskier says, staring thoughtfully at the wall. He looks down at Geralt and rolls his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, I can. It's not like there's much to do- we've already established your brothers are out of danger now, Vesemir can still tell me what to do even if he can't move and Lambert and Coën are strong enough to help me with anything a bit over my weightlifting range."
"They need to rest too," Geralt grumbles and gets flicked on his forehead for it.
"And he says he doesn't mother-hen. I'll only ask them if I really need help with something- I can use Ciri for the littler things. And somehow Yennefer likes me enough now to let me bully her into resting without killing me, and I have full confidence that I can satiate your daughter's bloodlust for training with some courtly entertainment or songs or something."
"Food isn't going to be an issue- I know how to make a few good soups from what's left- that'll last us a good while; there's bread and fruit that's still fresh, and if it really comes down to it, I can use the back path to the forest and manage to find a deer for everyone."
"And I can take care of the horses and the other animals when everyone is taking their afternoon naps, there's enough equipment for me to work with."
"Stop being so fucking competent," Geralt complains, voice unintentionally raspy. "I can neither strangle nor fuck you in the main hall."
Jaskier cackles at him, hitting him on the arm in mirth. "If I'd known that's all that did it for you, I'd have put in some hard work years ago."
"No, you wouldn't have, you lazy dick," Geralt replies against the fabric of the silk chemise. "You would have just made fun of me for weeks."
"That I would have," Jaskier agrees, looking at him with a soft smile. It falters after a moment, eyes darting over Geralt's face, reading the exhaustion there. His lips twist.
"And take this," He interrupts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an ornate necklace that Jaskier has carried for years and is extremely fond of. "Hock it wherever you can and get us extra supplies, we need them."
"Jaskier!" Geralt snaps, pulling back. "Absolutely not. You love that stupid necklace. You nearly got stabbed because you love that fucking thing. I'm not-"
Jaskier presses their mouths together gently, quieting his protests, and then leans back and smiles at him. "Be practical, Geralt," He teases, although his eyes hold a hint of melancholy in them. "It's just a necklace. I've been your friend for years, I know how much you witchers scarf down each meal to stay healthy. We need more food if we want to survive the coming months."
"You've given enough," Geralt pleads, pushing Jaskier's hand back towards him, fingers lingering on he burns there. "You've don't need to give us more, Jaskier, please."
"Nonsense," Jaskier huffs, waving the other hand dismissively. "You said it yourself- I have a place here, and I can choose what I want to do to help my family. Take it, Geralt."
Unwillingly, Geralt does, slipping it carefully in his pocket. He reaches for Jaskier's hand before it retreats and stoops low, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and then pressing his fingers against his face, breathing hard.
"I love you," He says desperately. "I love you so much. Thank you."
Jaskier laughs shakily, smelling slightly of salt. He tilts Geralt's chin up and rubs their noses together. "I love you too, Geralt."
"Marry me," He begs, suddenly overcome by it all- by twenty two years of unconditional devotion laid at his feet of Jaskier's own choosing. Of being chosen as someone to love, to stay with, to come home to, no matter what he does. The marriages he's seen over the decades- the true ones; steady partnerships that never lose their love no matter how badly they fight, with the playful mischief and love in their eyes as strong when they're sixty as when they're thirty, the ones built on pure, unadulterated devotion- they all pale in front of what Jaskier has given him. What Geralt wants to give him. "Marry me."
Jaskier laughs, although tears are running down his cheeks and his lips are trembling. "Geralt, love. We haven't even had sex yet."
"We don't need to," Geralt insists, pressing both of Jaskier's palms to his face again. "You know we've been together long enough to justify it twice over."
Jaskier's mask cracks, and he looks wrecked, like Geralt has shoved his hands past his ribs and is cradling his heart in his palms. He looks longingly into Geralt's eyes, wanting so badly that Geralt can practically feel it on his tongue.
He shudders and closes his eyes, swallowing back his tears. "Ask me," He whispers, voice cracking. "Ask me again when the war is over, Geralt. When there's no one to hide from. When you're no longer run so ragged and stretched so thin that you're about to faint."
Jaskier's words regain their teasing lilt by the end of his speech, and they both laugh into each other's mouths, both of them tasting of tears. They stay like that for a while, faces pressed together, eyes closed, sinking into each other's presence.
"Come on, White Wolf," Jaskier says after a while, taking a deep breath and wiping his wet face on Geralt's shirt. "Go get some food home for your family."
Geralt sighs and gets to his feet. Jaskier wraps his cloak around him more securely as Geralt pushes open the door, pulling a face at the cold outside.
Geralt walks to the gate, slinging his pack higher up on his shoulder, and then hesitates; turns around, unable to bear it.
Jaskier crashes into him immediately, kissing him, and Geralt kisses him back as intensely as he can, practically dipping him backwards with the force.
"I adore you," He promises. "I'm going to make you my husband."
"Oh, shut the fuck up, Geralt, it's too cold out here to cry," Jaskier snaps at him, crying. He links his hands behind Geralt's neck and presses their foreheads together. "I love you too. Come back quick so I can fuck you into the mattress until you scream."
Geralt barks out a laugh. "Is this how you reply to all your marriage proposals?"
Jaskier laughs, covering his face with one hand. "I haven't had time to process it. I'm going to be unbearable when you come back home."
Geralt kisses him again for that. "I love you."
"I love you. Be safe." Jaskier kisses him back fiercely as he tries to move back, like he can't help himself. The chain of his medallion catches on his jacket as Jaskier moves back and then abruptly snaps in the cold, leaving the bard scrambling to grab it before it gets lost in the snow.
Geralt smiles. "Keep it," He suggests, laughing a bit at the gobsmacked look on Jaskier's face. "You gave me yours, you can have mine."
"They are not even remotely the same thing, Geralt- GERALT!" Jaskier shouts as Geralt turns and jogs down the path, getting far away enough for Jaskier to be unable to chase him down. "Oh, for the love of- fine! Be safe, you insane buffoon of a man!"
Geralt laughs and walks away. "Don't forget to drink water!"
