Gonna do a Geraskier fic, sort of canon adjacent.
There’s a special potion, something kept only for when witchers are at safety. Complete safety. Usually only when they’re surrounded by other witchers or locked away somewhere secure and secluded.
It makes him feel… dopey. And horny. It’s just kinda a recharge type of thing, mostly to keep them from going insane.
It’s Jaskier first time seeing Geralt so wild. He can’t sleep, he doesn’t eat, he’s got this look in his eyes like he’s full of static. He’s walking, going through the motions of traveling, but there’s nothing there. No matter how much Jaskier speaks, pesters, even gives him small touches, Geralt is a zombie.
Finally Jaskier puts his foot down, they had found an old abandoned house, burnt down but the cellar was intact. He took Roach’s reins and tied her to what was left of an old shed, under the cover with plenty of grass around.
He ushered them down into the secure, quiet space. It was spacious for a cellar. Throwing down their bedrolls and their lantern, lighting it with ease. Geralt sat in a corner, eyes blank as he spaced out.
Jaskier locked the door behind them and tossed Geralt’s satchel, his potions and tinctures.
“Fix yourself. I refuse to travel another step with you all-all dead fish faced and mopey!” Jaskier commanded and Geralt looked at him. Geralt dug through the satchel and found the small, tiny bottle of something shimmery and white.
Geralt looked at Jaskier as he uncorked the bottle. Jaskier was making the bedrolls and digging through their supplies. He took a sip, a few drops feeling like gold on his tongue.
The next morning when they woke up, Jaskier woke up first for the first time ever. He looked over at Geralt and was shocked. Geralt was smiling. In his sleep, his lips were turned up in a soft smile.
Jaskier was weirded out the entire day. Geralt walked slowly, lazily, he kept petting Roach, a hand gliding across her, fingers in her mane. And he ate. He stood and ate berries from a bush, having to be pulled away. And his eyes were big and round, relaxed.
Jaskier finally found a town, Geralt being no help with navigation at all. He found an inn and shoved Geralt up the stairs with a promise of ale and a bed. It was only as Geralt sat in front of the fireplace in nothing but a towel, shoving bread into his mouth did Jaskier notice something else.
Geralt was blushing, a pink to his cheek, faint and barely there but blush nonetheless. He came up and reached out, touching Geralt’s ear, usually the Witcher would have whipped around and smacked him, bit him, something.
“Geralt? Do you feel well?” Jaskier asked when Geralt leaned into his palm. And then Geralt was turning to nuzzle in closer.
Jaskier soon found out that Geralt was not feeling well. He was feeling everything.
