15?
I love that you just gave me the number and a question mark with no preamble.
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“I just want you to be safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you!”
“I am safe, Geralt! You’re always like...five feet away!”
“I don’t want you coming along on this hunt and that’s final,” the Witcher snarled. Jaskier rolled his eyes and moved around Geralt to sit on the edge of the inn’s one bed. “Don’t pout, either. It won’t work.”
“I don’t intend to pout.”
“Then don’t act like you’re going to.”
“Fuck off, Witcher.”
“Fuck off, bard.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Jaskier sighed and stood.
“I’m sorry, Geralt. I know you don’t like having me out there but it’s so much worse having to stay in this cramped little room, far away from you, and not know when or if you’ll be coming back to me that night. Or at all. It’s terrifying, dear heart, and it kills me.”
“I’m...I’m sorry.”
“Then let me come with you. I’ll hide under a big pile of moss or climb the tallest tree available and tie myself to the trunk for added safety. I’ll do whatever you need but I can’t lose you, Geralt. I really can’t bear the not knowing.”
“Alright,” Geralt apologized, pulling the bard in tightly for a hug and a quick kiss. “Alright.”