The Witcher Headcanon - Drunk: Bonus Scene - Part 2
Jaskier made it through the night, to Geralt's relief.
He woke, a bit groggy, but actually feeling pretty good for having gone on a binge last night. In fact, he barely had a hangover at all!
He spied Geralt sitting by the bed, watching him intently. He grinned cheekily and said, "Goodmorning, Sour Puss-!"
Jaskier was abruptly snatched up by the collar of his shirt.
Geralt shook him roughly, growling and snarling a reprimand that seemed to go on forever.
"So I got a wee bit tipsy last night-!"
Geralt cut him off with an inarticulate cat yowl.
"I'm beginning to get the uncomfortable feeling that something Not Good happened to me last night-!"
" 'NOT GOOD'?!" Geralt snarled. Words failing him, he gave Jaskier another violent shake and an enraged 'HMMMM!'
"I don't like your tone-!"
Jaskier quailed when Geralt yanked him up to eye level and hissed at him.
*"I won't do it again, Geralt, I promise!" Jaskier squeaked.
"You better f***ing not."
"I won't! I promise my days of debauchery are behind me! I shall henceforth drink responsibly!"
"Don't drink anymore for the next few days. You need to give your body time to recover."
Geralt: *giving Jaskier a hard shake and a threatening growl*
Jaskier: Okay, okay! I promise! No more drinking!"
It was a promise Jaskier had definitely made with his fingers crossed behind his back because that very same afternoon, he was three sheets to the wind when Geralt got back from a contract.
He left his drunk bard at the inn. There was something he needed to do.
When Jaskier stumbled into their room that evening, Geralt was waiting, and he was not alone.
Jaskier made it to the room after navigating the stairs. He felt sort of weird.
It was hard to think, and he was confused. Where was he? Where was Geralt? Maybe he should go up these stairs.
It should have been easy, but the f***ing things kept moving when he tried to step on them. His head felt so foggy, and he felt really sluggish. Was he going to black out? Ohhh, he did not feel good! Maybe Geralt had been right. Maybe he shouldn't have had anymore ale...
By pure luck, he ended up at the correct room. He fumbled the door open after taking a few minutes to remember how a door worked and practically fell into the room.
He felt hands grab him, and he said, "Good catch, Geralt! I almost busted my face on the floor, which would have been horrible! I can't perform with a bruised face!"
Geralt didn't respond, which was rather curious...
Geralt didn't even get a chance to move when Jaskier fell into the room. Yennefer, lightning quick, darted forward and caught Jaskier before he hit the floor.
"Jaskier!", she exclaimed, shocked at his state. It was worse than Geralt had described.
Jaskier slurred something unintelligible, eyes unfocused, and his lips very pale. Yennefer gasped after a second of focusing her magic. There was so much alcohol in his system. Too much. She had to do something fast.
Later, she would admit to Geralt that maybe she'd panicked just a little, but it had been the best she could come up with.
"You thrice d*mned f***ing lunatic!", she cried, then hauled Jaskier up and backhanded him across the face.
Geralt thought that was the end of it, but Yennefer was not done.
"What-- *slap!*--the-- *slap!* -- f**k-- *slap!* --were-- *slap!* --you--- *slap!* --thinking?-- *slap!*
Jaskier gave her a few slow blinks in reply. "Wake-- *slap!* --up-- *slap!*--you-- *slap!* --f***ing-- *slap!*--tw*at -- *slap!*
Jaskier began reacting after the tenth or twelfth slap.
He didn't know what was happening at first, but then his head started to clear. The fog was beginning to go away, and he was starting to feel better. Except for the pain in his face. His cheeks were stinging for some reason...
Geralt could do nothing but laugh at the scene as Yennefer continued to punctuate each word she spat with a slap.
Jaskier, by now, was becoming clear headed enough to realize what was happening, and at whose hands he was suffering at.
His coordination was still off, and he was still a little buzzed, but he was now whimpering and yelping in time with the slaps.
Jaskier felt as if his head was clearing a little more with each smack.
His Northern accent was still slurred when he was finally able to remember how to speak.
Yennefer was not satisfied with only moderate sobriety, though.
"You -- *slap!* --stupid-- *slap!* -- b**tard! *slap!* --Stop-- *slap!* --being-- *slap!* --drunk-- *slap!* --this-- *slap!* --instant! -- *slap!*"
Geralt was doubled over laughing. He didn't know how she was doing it -- if it was a spell, or sheer force of will -- but Yennefer was literally slapping Jaskier sober.
It was the most absurd thing he'd ever seen, but it was working! It was f***ing working!
Jaskier started babbling, begging her to stop, and Yennefer paused.
"You come back to your senses?", she asked, hand raised threateningly.
"Yes..." Jaskier panted meekly from where he'd fallen to his knees. He was completely sober. He was 100% raw dogging reality.
He was so sober that the idea that maybe he was turned on by this dynamic flat out refused to even cross his mind.
"Good!" Yennefer snarled, and then slapped him, hard, across the face.
Geralt choked back his laughter, wincing in sympathy. She'd put her whole arm into that slap.
"That's for almost killing yourself!" Yennefer said, then slapped him again, just as hard, "And that's for if you ever even think about doing that again! Lest ye forget, this is what awaits you!"
She gave him one more sharp smack, then released the collar of his shirt, turned to Geralt, and admonished him, "wipe that smile off your face! I'll do the same to you if you ever get that drunk!"
Geralt nodded mutely because he knew she f***ing would do it.
With one last stern warning, she summoned a portal and disappeared into its depths.
Awkward glances were exchanged, but neither Geralt nor Jaskier said a word as they turned in for what was left of the night.
The silence was finally broken several long minutes after they had gone to bed.
Jaskier said quietly from the dark next to Geralt, in a tone that was equal parts impressed and horrified, "That witch really did just slap the alcohol out of me!"
Geralt rolled over and laughed into his pillow, ignoring Jaskier's offended whining.
