inspired by this post by @darkverrmin about jaskier rescuing snails- it was originally gonna be a 5 times 1 time, but to be completely honest I ran out of snail related shenanigans. 1.2k words, minor injury, non graphic.
**
He first notices it after heavy rainfall. Sure, the bard would often slow down or stop entirely when on the path, complaining about his aching feet or exclaiming that something had inspired him, and he simply had to write it down that second, but today he’s bobbing up and down like a cork in the ocean, the squelch of his boots in the mud keeping an irregular rhythm as he bends up and down, still managing to keep up his usual stream of chatter.
He’s crouched down on the ground about 50 times before Geralt finally gives in to his curiosity.
“What are you doing, bard?” He says gruffly, trying to retain a shred of his reputation as someone who does not care, despite Jaskier’s best efforts at reinvention.
Jaskier grins in response, extending his hand out to Geralt. In the middle of his palm, there’s-
“It’s a snail, Geralt!” He beams proudly, like a toddler showing a parent a scribble on parchment.
Geralt blinks slowly. “Did you hit your head during that last kikimora hunt?” He deadpans. “Because I am not taking you to a healer.”
Jaskier laughs him off, as always. “They’re all out because of the rain so I just move them off the path so they don't get crushed by Roach’s hooves. Or your big boots, for that matter.”
“Only you would waste so much time on something so pointless.”
Jaskier splutters. “Pointless?! I’m saving innocent creatures from a painful death, Geralt! I should compose a ballad about my heroic deeds!”
Geralt snorts. “Your head’s big enough as it is. Besides,” he continues over Jaskier’s gasp of outrage, “they’re just snails.”
Jaskier pauses for a moment, and Geralt starts to prepare himself for mock outrage. But instead, Jaskier responds in a level tone.
“I don’t see saving defenceless creatures as a waste of time, do you?” He says softly, and there’s something in his gaze that’s too direct for Geralt to meet his eyes.
“Hmm,” he says instead, and Jaskier laughs softly, breaking the tension as they resume their journey. And if Geralt’s taking more care to look where he puts his feet, well, that’s between him and Roach.
***
The griffin is angry. Its wings are bent at odd angles, but its fury at being grounded is only making it more ferocious. It howls viciously, before hurling itself into a thicket. Moments later, it bursts back onto the path, only this time it’s behind them.
Geralt spins round, his sword gripped in his hands. “Get back, Jaskier,” he yells, all too aware of the tempting target Jaskier is in bright red. Jaskier takes a step back before hesitating. For some inexplicable reason, he lunges forwards. In a split second, the griffin’s tail whips out from behind its body, catching Jaskier around the middle and sending him arcing through the air. Geralt can only watch as his back hits a tree, and he crumples at its roots.
The griffin doesn’t live much longer. Geralt doesn’t even wait to pull his sword from the corpse before he runs over to Jaskier, who to his relief is groaning and rubbing his head.
“What were you thinking”? Geralt yells furiously, gripping Jaskier’s shoulders as he examines him for any sign of injury. Jaskier smiles weakly, looking down at his right hand, which is cradled against his body.
“Your arm?” Geralt panics, begging Melitele that it isn’t broken, but Jaskier just opens his hand to reveal a fat snail.
“Are you fucking joking?” You could have been killed!”
“So could the snail!” And if he’s arguing back, that’s a good sign. Although not for Geralt's blood pressure. And the complete lack of self-preservation seems to be a recurring issue. “And is my life really worth more than Jeremy’s?”
Of course it is. Geralt thinks. Just the fact that you were willing to risk your life for a fucking snail means you’re a better person than most. Not that he’d ever tell Jaskier that. Instead, he asks:
“Jeremy?”
“The snail, Geralt, honestly! I know you’re bad at names but he’s just been through a traumatic event.”
For once Geralt is grateful for the Trials slowing his heartbeat, because otherwise he’d be having an aneurysm any second.
“Okay, you definitely hit your head this time. I’m taking you to a healer.”
“I’m fine! The healer will only tell you the same.”
The healer does in fact confirm that Jaskier is in possession of all of his faculties, although Geralt wants a second opinion. Especially as Jaskier downright refused to see the healer until he’d found a safe place for his new friend.
“It’s a dangerous world out there, Geralt! Jeremy deserves some peace.”
“Don’t we all,” Geralt mutters, softly enough that Jaskier doesn’t look up and see him smiling.
***
Geralt can’t stop thinking about snails. It’s getting ridiculous. When he’s travelling with Jaskier, he surreptitiously avoids stepping on them. He knows if he lets Jaskier know his snail rescuing exploits have rubbed off on him, he’ll never hear the end of it, so he only moves them off the path when he’s travelling alone, although that’s happening less and less these days. In fact, the two weeks he spends travelling while Jaskier attends a bardic competition in Oxenfurt is the longest amount of time he’s spent alone since Jaskier started traveling with him.
When Geralt meets him in Oxenfurt, he’s triumphant, having enjoyed a score far higher than his rival, Valdo Marx. Jaskier revels in explaining his win in great detail, and Geralt relaxes, unable to contain the smile on his face and having Jaskier at his side again. He spots a snail ahead of Roach and stoops down absentmindedly.
“And can you believe he cried, Geralt? I mean what a baby-”
His voice cuts off suddenly, which normally only happens when he trips on a tree root. Geralt looks over his shoulder at Jaskier, who’s surprisingly still upright, but staring at Geralt crouched on the ground. Geralt curses his forgetfulness, straightening up abruptly and avoiding Jaskier’s gleeful gaze.
“What are you doing?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can hear the smile in his voice.
“I dropped my glove.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind.
“You do realise you’re wearing them?”
Shit.
“You were rescuing a snail, weren’t you?”
Geralt doesn’t reply, which Jaskier takes as confirmation.
“I knew it!” He spins triumphantly on the path in his ridiculous boots.
“You know fuck all, Jaskier.”
“Oh, I get to have this one, my friend!” He pats Geralt on the shoulder as he steps past him, stooping to rescue the snail that Geralt had abandoned. “I knew you listened to me, even if you pretend you don’t! I can’t believe you’re such a softy-”
“Jaskier,” Geralt says weakly, begging for mercy, but Jaskier continues undeterred.
“What else do you copy off me?” He gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Can you sing? Do you secretly compose?”
“Shut up, Jaskier.”
“Sing Toss a Coin,” Jaskier begs, swinging his lute off his back and strumming those unmistakable chords as they resume the path, “I bet you can, I’m sure you’ve got a lovely baritone-”
“Jaskier.”
“Just the chorus, please!”
“I will throw your lute in the stream.”
“Can’t bluff your way out of this by trying to scare me, not now that I know how sweet and gentle you are. White Wolf? More like White Puppy- AH NOT THE LUTE, I TAKE IT BACK!”
how do you make it that liking someone or enjoying being around them doesn’t make you feel worse about urself? like I can appreciate that I’m fun to be around and all but once I think about being with people I like and admire or whatever I just think I’m too worthless to take up even a second of their time and I just don’t want to be noticed by anyone? because if I get noticed then they’ll see me and I don’t want anyone to see me because I’m disgusting
